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It isn’t just my wolf making the demand, not that it’s always clear where my thoughts originate. No, I’m sure I would rather die than have Madi trotting around here as a mind-controlled zombie just so I don’t go mad.
No one answers at first. They all like the idea. I probably would, too, if it came down to losing one of them to human treachery.
“I said no!” I thunder.
My team remains silent.
“Perhaps you should consider marking her and then discarding her. That would alleviate the greatest risk of madness,” Nickel suggests.
“No.” This time it’s crystal clear who’s talking. Me–the proud, stubborn man who would rather hold a grudge and die than make any kind of peace with the woman who betrayed me. My wolf is totally on board with marking her. Now. Yesterday, in fact.
“I don’t wish to discuss Madi. I will draw blood on the next person who brings her up. I want to talk about the pack and the company.”
“We’re looking at complete and utter devastation,” Billy says. “There will be no Blackthroat pack. None of us are strong enough to hold it. No one will trust me over you. The only reason they trusted you at age eighteen is because your father made it clear that you were his successor and all the wolves who fell in behind him backed you. Only one or two families defected. This time they will all defect. The Adalwulfs will pick off the weaker factions.”
Concerned looks ping-pong around the table.
“Contingency plans for the company, then. Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Madi
I stay in bed for two days without eating or sleeping. On the afternoon of the third day after being fired, I finally start following the loops and turns my mind has been hashing through while I’ve been wallowing in bitterness and despair.
The thing my brain kept returning to was that meeting with Aiden. When I realize why, I sit up abruptly from bed. Shower. I need a shower.
I swing my legs over the side, stand up, and nearly pass out because I haven’t eaten in two days. I'm sure I look like a holy terror. I'm in an old worn T-shirt and panties, and my hair is a tangled mess from lying in the bed with the covers over my head.
“Hey, you’re up.” Aubrey comes into my room. Her voice is soaked with sympathy, which makes me want to dive back under the covers for another cry.
But no. I figured something out.
“I need food,” I manage to say.
“I’ve been telling you that.” Aubrey snatches up the store-bought smoothie she brought in for me earlier this morning from the bedside table and gives it a shake. “Here, drink this.”
I uncap it and suck down half the contents. “Thanks. Listen–” I pace into the living room of the apartment. “We have to do something.”
“Yeah. Let’s plot revenge on those entitled assholes.”
“No!” I wave an impatient hand. “Listen–I was framed.”
Aubrey looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean, I think I know how they did it.”
“How?”
“The janitor.” I punctuate the word with a jab to the sky with my index finger.
“Let’s get you some more food,” Aubrey says, like I’ve lost my mind.
Okay, maybe it does sound too hokey. Too Agatha Christie tidy. But I just remembered the thing that was bothering me.
“He was the only one who could’ve known when I was leaving the building the night Aiden tried to get me into his limo. He’s also one of the few people who has access to my computer. And he’s a wolf.”
“A what?”
