Err, wolf.
I knew every one of the twenty-five other vampires in the city. None of them worked near my building, and we all fought like hell to stay hidden from both the humans and the wolves. Draining one of the top investment bankers in a werewolf-owned company would be suicide.
It would ruin the reputation we’d been trying unsuccessfully to repair for nearly a century since the Supernatural War had ended, too. The war had been werewolves vs vampires, and the wolves had obviously won.
The people in front of me moved enough to hide the body from my sight, but I’d seen plenty.
Other than me, what vampire in the city had a reason to want Steven dead?
Who would be willing to risk not just their own head, but our families’ necks too?
Werewolves weren’t kind. The pack who ran the city particularly wasn’t. They would hunt every single family member of whoever did this. They would probably enjoy it, too, the vicious assholes.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I spun around fast.
Inhumanly fast.
Thankfully, the crowd’s attention was focused elsewhere.
My muddy brown eyes met a pair of panicked ones I knew better than my own. Harper’s were about the same shade as my colored contacts.
“You need to get out of here,” she whispered.
My stomach clenched.
With how much money Steven had made for the Alpha Pack, the wolves would absolutely send someone to look at the crime scene. Possibly to interview everyone who worked on the floor.
This was bad.
Very, very bad.
It wasn’t easy to pick out a vampire in a group of humans, but there were ways to do it.
Someone bumped my shoulder before I could reply, and I turned again quickly.
The crowd around us was getting louder.
Someone must’ve called the Alpha by then, and since he owned our company, I was sure he would send someone out quickly.
He’d be insane not to, if there was really a vampire behind it. We could move too fast.
The pack’s headquarters was the building right beside the investment company’s office. Most of the city called it The Tower. If I was going to leave, I needed to do it fast.
If only I wasn’t running on fumes and a tiny bit of coffee after staying up all night to finish paperwork.
A bullhorn suddenly blared, silencing everyone.
My head jerked toward the noise, and I fought hard not to cover my sensitive ears. My eyes widened immediately when I saw who was holding the megaphone.
Silently, I urged my contacts not to fall out again.
That was the only way this situation could get any worse.
Because the man holding the megaphone was none other than our company’s owner.
The Alpha of the Alpha Pack.
He was over six and a half feet of pure, sun-tanned muscle, outfitted in ripped jeans and a t-shirt that clung to said muscle far too well. Both of his arms were covered in ink, and he wasn’t sporting the cocky grin he usually wore in pictures.
