Page 55 of Pistols & Peonies

CHAPTER 19

Kane

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do.

It’s not even nine a.m., and I’ve already gotten in a solid workout, doled out next week’s enforcer assignments, and signed off on half a dozen disciplinary reports. At this rate, I should be finished up with the boring shit by noon, leaving me plenty of time for field check-ins and patrol audits.

I’ve been slacking on those lately– which means the lower-level enforcers have almost certainly been slacking, too. They’re overdue for a reminder that their positions aren’t guaranteed. Complacency spreads fast in a pack this size, and it’s my job to burn it out before it turns to rot.

I scroll through my inbox, already deciding which rookies could use a fresh dose of intimidating, when my desk phone rings.

I ignore it. I’m not in the mood to derail my renewed productivity with menial bullshit. If it’s important, whoever it is will call my cell.

The phone rings again almost immediately.

I glare at it, then cave, jabbing the speaker button with more force than necessary. “Kane,” I bark, not bothering with a greeting.

“Um, yes, Commander Kane, this is Nina from pack admin down on level three.” Her voice wobbles just enough to grate on my nerves. “We got word that your mate would be starting with us today, but she hasn’t reported in yet. Her start time was half an hour ago, and–”

“I’ll take care of it,” I cut in, my hands curling into fists on top of my desk.

There’s a pause. Then, hesitantly, “So… should we still expect her today, or–”

“Yes, I’ll handle it,” I growl, already reaching for the button to end the call.

The line goes dead. I exhale sharply through my nose, rolling the tension out of my neck.

So, she’s testing me. Of course she is. Violet would never miss an opportunity to push, poke, or see exactly how far she can take things before I snap.

I could send some grunt down to fetch her, have them drag her into admin kicking and screaming, let her embarrass herself by making a scene in front of people who don’t matter. Or I could go myself, remind her what happens when brats defy direct orders. Brand my handprint on her ass until she remembers who’s in charge here.

The second option is far more tempting.

I swipe up my keys and phone and leave my office, heading down the hall to the elevator. It takes forever, as always, my patience fraying with every second that crawls by. By the time I ride it down and the doors open on the twenty-ninth, I’m wound tight, my inner beast clawing at my chest.

I move down the corridor in long strides, keys in hand. Less than a minute later, I’m crossing the threshold of the apartment, greeted by that addictive lemon and peony scent that my wolf can’t seem to ever get enough of.

My boots echo as I stride down the long entry hall, doing a quick scan at the end.

Living room– empty.

Kitchen– also empty.

There’s a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter– more sugary crap that she insists on poisoning her body with– but no leggy brunette bent over it with her ass in the air, daring me to teach her a lesson.

“Violet?” I call, voice carrying through the apartment.

Nothing.

Frustration mounts as I go to check her bedroom next. The door is ajar, the bed a tangle of blankets and sheets. She never bothers to make it. The panties and t-shirt she stripped off last night are still strewn across the floor, even though the hamper sits two feet away. I’m starting to think she keeps her space this messy just to spite me.

She’s not in the bedroom. Not in the en-suite bathroom, either. Not fucking anywhere.

I pull out my phone, thumb through to her contact, and hit call. It rings twice before I’m forwarded to voicemail, so I hang up and fire off a text instead.

Kane

Admin called. You’re late. I expect a reply in the next five minutes or I hunt you down, mate.