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But he wasn’t powerless now.
He was a monster in his own right. Exactly what his deadbeat dad had made him.
And this time, he intended to bite back.
Frankie knewChet was bad news from the moment he stepped into the interrogation room. Sure, not bad news in the way Jace McCannon was bad news, or the brief, albeit lasting, impression she’d gotten of Jace’s division lead, a notoriously lethal and stone-faced vampire hunter by the name of Damon Brock. Nor was Chet even as much bad news as she considered herself to be. She was a packmaster in her own right, after all. Highly trained. She had to be.
But Chet wasn’t a threat in theI have the ability to deliver a beat downsense. No, the Execution Underground region lead was bad news in the way all bureaucrats and powerful men were bad news. In the fact that she was a woman, and a woman of a marginalized species to boot. Which meant he had institutional power she didn’t.
And he intended to wield it against her.
“Chet,” she said cheerily as Jace stalled in making his way toward to the door. “Your reputation as a Grade-A prick proceeds you.”
She wasn’t here to make friends, especially not with this asshole.
Chet stared down his patrician nose at her as if she were so far beneath him, she was barely worth addressing. He shot a glare toward Jace. “Is there a way to muzzle her?”
Frankie snarled.
To Jace’s credit, he looked as disgusted by the inhumane suggestion as she did. He glanced between them then and for a moment, something in his eyes flickered.
But she didn’t know him well enough to be able to read the emotion.
“No,” he answered tersely. “No, it’s against protocol.” Chet opened his mouth to respond, but Jace cut him off with a shake of his head, abruptly closing the door. “Which is also why I’m staying.” He met Chet’s gaze head-on, refusing to break eye-contact. As if he dared the region lead to challenge him. “Damon observes and I stay. We follow the rules, or I’ll remove you from this interview room myself.”
It was a direct challenge to his superior.
On her behalf. Or so it seemed.
Frankie wasn’t exactly certain what to make of that, or why she felt...surprised. Even...grateful? But she did.
It was the right thing to do. The decent thing, and yet...
How often did other men like Jace look away to protect their own asses?
Jace nodded toward the two-way mirror, as if reminding Chet that his division lead was also observing, doing his duty to keep them both accountable. Or so she hoped.
The tension between the two men thickened.
“Fine,” Chet relented, before he sat down, claiming Jace’s chair, though the look in his eyes promised Jace would pay for the defiance later.
Frankie almost felt sorry for it.
Once Chet was in Jace’s seat, the look of hatred which settled on the region lead’s face as he watched her sent a chill down her spine. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Chet said, as if he were a man used to being obeyed. “You’re going to tell us everything about your little pack, or Jace here is going to charge you with aiding and abetting an interspecies murder.”
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that. I didn’t do anything.”
Chet grinned. “Watch me.”
In the background, Jace was shaking his head, jaw clenched. “She’s right. You can’t do that. There’s no evidence to implicate her.”
Chet glanced toward him. “Then make evidence.”
The beat of silence that followed pressed into Frankie’s ears.
Her heart raced, filling her with panic until with a resounding growl until Jace said, “No.”
Chet’s gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”
