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“I said, no,” Jace repeated. “I’ll lose my job if that’s what it comes to, but not even a piss poor excuse for a region lead like you could make me do that.”
Chet laughed. “And how do you think you’re going to stop me, McCannon?”
Frankie watched in horror as something dark in Jace’s eyes flickered again. Something remarkably wolf-like, but it was there and gone so quickly she couldn’t make sense of it.
A second later, the door to the interview room swung open once more and Damon Brock stepped in. “That’s enough, Chet. Time to go.”
Chet rounded on the division lead. “Shut your mouth, Brock, or I’ll have your job, too.”
The return look in the division lead’s eyes was iced fury. “I don’t care who the fuck you are. You’re done here.”
Frankie blinked. It didn’t take a genius to gather there was more background to this moment than she was seeing. An unspoken corporate history.
“Fuck you both.” Chet didn’t appear to care that he both was out of line and outnumbered. “I’ll havebothyour jobs for this.”
Neither hunter seemed fazed by the threat.
Jace’s eyes narrowed then, and he gave Chet a look as if he was seeing something new and even more disgusting that he hadn’t seen before. “What’s this case mean to you? Who at Headquarters has their hand so far up your ass they’ve made you their puppet?”
Chet snarled and stepped toward Jace. “Watch your mouth, McCannon.”
Damon shook his head. “Not now,” he warned Jace. For a moment, his blue eyes darted toward her.
Whatever silent communication passed between them, clearly this was internal business. Not for her ears.
Damon turned toward Chet then. “Threaten one of my team again and I’ll end you.” From the stern delivery and the chill which shot down her spine, it wasn’t a passing threat. It was a promise. “Now get out,” Damon growled.
With a look of petulant fury, Chet snatched the folder off the table, pausing only momentarily, before his eyes fell to her. “You would’ve looked like less of a bitch in the muzzle,” he sneered.
Frankie stiffened. Fury coursed through her as Chet turned to leave. She’d heard more hateful words a thousand times before. Even more hurtful, perhaps. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to let it go. Not this time.
“The only beast who needs a muzzle here is you,” she said after him.
Chet stilled and the muscles in his shoulders writhed. Slowly, he glanced toward her.
Frankie knew it wasn’t wise to bait him, but she’d had enough men in her life, human or otherwise, who thought they could talk down to her, treat her as less than, only for them to walk away unscathed. Never again. She was done playing nice.
Leaning forward, she met Chet’s gaze from across the table as her eyes flashed to her wolf. She wasn’t just defiant. She was pure lupine, proud of who and what she was, and she let him see it then as her voice dropped to a ruthless, animal growl. “Take your species hate and shove it up your ass, Chet.”
For a moment, Chet didn’t so much as breathe.
Instead, the color drained from his face, making him deathly pale for a beat as he held her gaze. She couldn’t just see his fear. She could smell it. Taste it. The man’s nostrils flared, his face twisting to one of embarrassed rage, causing Frankie to grin, though she quickly realized her mistake. Men like Chet lashed out when they were afraid.
The region lead dove across the table so suddenly, Frankie didn’t anticipate it.
Without warning, he knocked her from her chair, sending her sprawling to the floor. Upon impact, Frankie growled, struggling to right herself, but before she could gain her footing, Chet grabbed her by her hair, using the leverage to hurl her toward the wall like she weighed nothing. She hit the cinderblock—hard—the wind flying from her lungs as she struggled to breathe. But he was on her again in an instant. His large hand gripping her by the throat. The whole thing happened so fast she hadn’t been able to think.
Damn the E.U’s freaking injections. Had this been a normal human, she’d have seen it coming, and fought him off with ease.
Apparently, Chet packed more power than it appeared.
Gasping for air, her eyes shifted to her wolf. He wouldn’t last two seconds if she were in wolf form. But Chet moved too quickly. Drawing his gun, he pressed the barrel to her chin, before he hauled her into his arms, and positioned himself behind her.
The coward had turned her into his shield. Damn it.
Slowly, Frankie released her shift as she tried to remain calm. Steady.
He’d never have bested her if he hadn’t caught her off guard. But even then, she couldn’t have killed him. For her pack’s sake.
