Chapter Thirty-One

He couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore, and the weight of her anger had subsided. Still, he pulled the door open, hopeful.

And disappointment greeted him.

“Hey! I was just on my way to your office.”

*Tsk.*

The blond still had the nerve to smile at him. The scent of alcohol carried from his breath.

Rowan’s eyes flashed as he pulled Finn close.

“Where is she?” His voice came rougher than intended, but he could care less right now.

Why did Finn smell of his mate?

“You’ll have to be specific there–*woah*.” Finn looked a bit surprised, but didn’t fight Rowan’s hold as he clenched harder.

“My. Mate.” He licked his gums, fangs beginning to pierce.

He hadn’t yet told Finn the fact that there actually was a female there somewhere with his mark.

“Mate? *Mate?*” Finn’s eyes grew wider.

“You don’t mean that female who falsely carried your mark, I’d imagine,” his features shifted, “but I do have quite the update on that interesting situa–.”

“*Finn*.” Rowan growled, uninterested in the droning of his cousin as the scent of his female continued to fade.

“Right, right. So… I’ve been around a lot of females today? Annnd I can’t fancy which one could possibly be your mate.”

Rowan released him to pinch his nose bridge.

“Try the last ten minutes.” They were wasting time.

“Ah, let me think… There was Francesca, the cute little Beta assistant. Then Reyna, one of your dear candidates..and–*oh!* Laura, that small wolfless female..and I may be missing a couple,” he trailed to a mutter.

“Watch your words.” Rowan pivoted, stalking back in the direction of his office. Hearing others refer to a shifter as wolfless–especially Laura–irritated him.

“What’d I say?!” Finn shouted after him.

He detoured to the nearest door, stripping the clothes from his body as his wolf burst forth on a run. He needed to clear his head of her scent if he was going to function in any normal capacity.

All of the candidates and majority of the staff would be in attendance for dinner this week, with the families of the candidates present. He would find her then.

He hit the treeline.

*No more running, mate.*

***

Siren wailed, muting the sounds of everything else as chaos reigned around them.

Lights were flashing, successively penetrating the darkness with both the alarms and the now damaged light fixtures that ran the length of the room on *its* side of the glass.

*Oh.*

She sat up.

The glass was broken too.

Everything was a bit blurry, and she didn’t know where her glasses had gone, but as she came to, she couldn’t mistake the ungodly sounds of flesh ripping from bone.

There weren’t any screams to accompany.

She shifted–attempted to stand only to discover her ankle was definitely broken. She carefully moved to a kneeling position as she lifted a hand to her head, coming away covered in blood.

A snarl ripped the air and a stray keyboard clattered to the floor beside her. She covered her mouth with her other hand to muffle her shriek. She was shaking, too scared to peek over the counter.

“Oh, Erin, you’re alive.” The nonchalant voice came from beside her.

Simon sat in his chair, twirling a pen. His countenance was different from the slow idiot she was used to.

“I couldn’t tell–I mean given all the blood you’ve lost…” Another snarl penetrated the air.

“It’s a shame you’ll be awake to feel it.” His gaze turned to look at the creature she couldn’t see in the other room, clearly feasting on something.

His eyes were sharp as he turned back to her.

“What did you do?” Erin spoke just above a whisper.

He had to have given the subject a stimulant, because there was no way the creature would just wake up with a continuous intravenous infusion loaded with depressants strong enough to nearly kill it.

“That’s right,” he said, responding to her widening eyes, “a little prick of epinephrine, and *wow!* I didn’t think the response would be this great.” He grinned around the pen now occupying his mouth.

He twirled a small black device in his hand–the device just yesterday he claimed was far from ready. She’d put Simon in charge of finishing the device meant to control the creature in front of them.

“I mean, poor Amelia.” He looked back into the viewing area. “Just couldn’t get out fast enough.”

She felt sick. That thing was *eating* their assistant.

The alarm suddenly stopped.

“Ah.” He stood.

“As much as I’d love to watch your fat-ass get gnawed to death, I’ve a contact to meet with.”

There was the distant sound of footsteps. Erin held hope their superiors would arrive in time, and take both this maniac and creature out. She needed to stall for time.

“And it seems we're out of time.”

*Shit.*

Erin twisted, crawling across broken glass to reach the door.

Oxford loafers effortlessly matched pace, allowing her to embed a meter's worth of glass in her exposed skin before standing in her way.

He crouched.

Everything about him was clean, from his shoes to his clothes–not a piece out of order. There wasn’t even a speck of blood on his lab coat.

Erin spit, the wad landing square on his cheek–but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he pulled a syringe from his inner lab coat.

“Cyanide.” He spoke without passion, but his eyes held fiery contempt.

“If only you’d died with Ida.”

Erin moved as far away as she could, slamming into the hard console she’d just crawled from, panting from the effort.

He was slower to move, watching her from his crouched position before standing to approach her.

She tried to move away, but her body decided to convulse instead.

Funny. She didn’t remember being stabbed.

A glance at his hand showed an empty syringe.

She was breathing in full labor and still couldn’t feel oxygen coming fast enough as her entire body burned. Her vision started to fuzz around the edges too.

The last thing she saw before darkness was Simon’s satisfied expression.