Page 2 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Fixer (My Grumpy Werewolf Boss #5)

LEVI

I hadn't stopped pacing since last night. With each breath, my wolf clawed at my insides, a relentless reminder of the woman currently occupying my study. Her honey citrus scent clung stubbornly to the air, mingling with the leather and whiskey of my home. It shouldn't have been this distracting, but it was. She was marking my den as hers.

Mate, the beast insisted, like a hammer to my skull.

I ignored it. I'd spent decades locking my instincts in a cage, and this was no different. A Hollywood empire didn't get built by giving in to each primal urge. Krista Fortune was a crisis manager, not a miracle worker. The sooner she realized she couldn't fix this mess, the sooner she'd leave.

Garrett's boots thudded against the hardwood as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Detectives are here. They're not leaving without you this time."

After ten years of being the head of my security, this was the first time I had seen Garrett this close to snapping at human law enforcement. I exhaled through my teeth, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. The movement did nothing to loosen the knot between them. Nothing ever did. My legal team had been stalling for days, but cops with a warrant weren't a suggestion.

"Fine."

The interrogation room reeked of stale coffee and bad intentions. Detective Moreno, a wiry man with a permanent sneer, slapped a folder on the table between us hard enough to make my lawyer flinch. "Let's try this again, Mr. Storm. You and Selene Reyes had a fight the day she died. Multiple witnesses place you arguing on set."

I leaned back, letting the chair creak under my weight like a warning "We disagreed on a scene. That's called acting."

Moreno's pen tapped against his notepad. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Funny. Because according to her text messages, you were a controlling bastard who couldn't take no for an answer."

Alan, my lawyer, stiffened. "Those texts were taken out of context."

"And this?" Moreno flicked a photo toward me. It was a grainy still from security footage of my Range Rover outside Selene's apartment. The timestamp read 2:37 AM, three hours after I'd been alone in my own home, nursing a whiskey and staring at a script I couldn't focus on.

Ice ran down my spine. I'd never been there. That wasn't my car. The plates were one digit off.

"Explain this, then."

"That's clearly doctored," Alan retorted.

"Or maybe, your client's tired of pretending he's not a monster," Moreno snarled.

I smirked. "If I wanted someone dead, Detective, you'd need dental records to ID the body."

Moreno's grin flattened. Good. Let him wonder if it was a joke.

When I arrived home, I found Krista in the living room, pacing like a caged tiger in those ridiculous heels. Zane slumped on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his knees, typing with the frantic energy of a man who knew caffeine alone wouldn't save him.

"Plant it on TMZ first, then bulldoze them with the shelter footage. Make them choke on his goddamn goodwill," Krista said with the decisiveness of a battle-tested General giving commands to her troops before marching into battle.

Something primal in my chest tightened. No one spoke for me like that. Not my agents, not my lawyers, no one. I wasn't a brand to salvage, but a person she was defending.

The realization sucked the air from my lungs.

She whirled at the sound of my footsteps, her assessing gaze scraping over me like a physical touch. Not pitying. Not afraid, but calculating. Like I was a puzzle she was determined to solve.

My wolf purred, desperate for her approval. Mine.

Krista tossed her hair over one shoulder, unimpressed. "Nice of you to join us, Storm. Sit down. We're salvaging what's left of your career."

Zane snorted, fingers still flying over his keyboard. "Also known as we're doing your homework while you brooded."

I crossed my arms, the weight of the day pressing down on me. "I was being interrogated, not sulking."

Krista's lips twitched. "Same difference."

I was torn between irritation and fascination. No one talked to me like that. And yet, the way she stood there, all five-foot-nothing of her, with her arms crossed and chin tilted up in challenge. It ignited my veins with heat.

Zane's phone buzzed. He frowned at the screen. "Uh-oh. Troy Mercer's lurking outside the gate again. That guy's persistent for a bottom-feeder. Like a cockroach."

I growled at the name. Mercer had been circling like a vulture since Selene's death. He was slimy even by paparazzi standards.

Krista grabbed her bag with a sigh. "I'll handle him. Distraction's the best defense."

"Like hell," I muttered.

With Garrett right behind her, I followed, making sure no one saw me shadowing her towards the gates.

"You're kidding, right?" Troy's greasy voice carried across the driveway as Krista stepped outside. "Fortune PR slumming it with criminals now? Guess business must be slow."

Krista smiled, saccharine sweet. "Aww, Troy. You brought your big-boy camera today. Does that mean you're finally taking your career seriously?"

Troy's smirk faltered. Then his hand shot out, closing around her wrist like a shackle. "Listen here, you mouthy little—"

I exploded. My vision turned red with rage as fury surged through me. My claws dug into my palms. Blood roared in my ears as the need to destroy this little rat surged through my muscles. A growl ripped from my throat.

Troy froze, his grip slackening as fear flashed across his face.

Krista didn't even flinch. She just arched a brow and flipped her hair, snapping a picture of Troy with her phone. "Oh, this is gold. I'm going to make you internet famous, Troy. Desperate paparazzo harasses innocent bystander. What do you think, should I tweet it now, or wait until your editor sees it?"

Troy's smirk faltered.

The anger in my gut eased. She wasn't afraid. She was handling it with the ruthless efficiency of a skilled hunter.

Zane jogged up beside me, grinning. "Damn. She's terrifying."

I grunted, watching as Troy slunk back to his car. The wolf settled, but the possessive urge lingered. Just the idea of that greasy bastard even looking at Krista made my skin itch with the need to mark her, to claim her, and to destroy anyone who dared harm her.

Krista turned back toward the house, freezing when she spotted me. Her eyes narrowed. "Were you watching me?"

I shrugged, forcing nonchalance into my voice. "You're on my payroll. I was assessing the investment."

"Uh-huh." She folded her arms, tapping her foot. "Well? How'd I do?"

The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. "Not terrible."

She rolled her eyes. "High praise, your majesty."

Zane piped up, waving his phone. "Speaking of investments, Krista, please tell me you're not actually taking Ubers everywhere. Because that's a security nightmare."

Krista scoffed. "I don't need a chauffeur, Zane. It's just until my car is fixed."

I bristled. "You do now."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

I stepped closer, looming over her until my shadow swallowed hers. "If you're going to dig into this mess, you're doing it from an armored car with my people. No exceptions."

Krista opened her mouth to argue, no doubt, but Garrett cut in. "He's right. Dante isn't playing around. Neither should we."

She glanced between the three of us, her stubbornness warring with logic. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. But no fancy snacks or drivers calling me ma'am. If I see one monogrammed pillow with my initials in there, I'm setting it on fire."

Zane choked on a laugh. Even Garrett's mouth twitched.

I should've been annoyed. Instead, my lips lifted into a smile against my will.

Then my phone buzzed with an incoming text. The name on my screen made me pause. Dean Nightfang, my oldest and arguably only real friend. He and I had known each other since boarding school, when his reclusive nature and my rebellious streak had made us social pariahs. Now, he lived behind layers of encryption and killer security, hacking into places no one else could reach. Dean was antisocial to the max and didn't do favors for anyone. If he was texting me, it meant he'd found something.

Dean: FOOTAGE LEAKED. DANTE'S MOVING.

And if Dante Grimshaw was involved, it wasn't a coincidence. He was my father's half-brother, a bitter and power-hungry bastard who despised me not only because I refused to merge my production company with his dying studio, but because I was a shifter and he wasn't. Dante never wanted family, only control. It would be just like him to leak doctored footage to the press.

Krista's pulled out her own phone, her sharp gasp cutting through the night air. "Oh, hell. TMZ's running raw footage of you screaming at Selene the day she died." She sucked in a breath. "It looks bad, Levi."

Zane groaned. "That's not just leaked, it's edited. Look at the time stamps, they cut all her lines out to make it seem like you're monologuing like a psycho."

Rage burned through me, righteous and molten. Of course Dante had his claws in this. He had been waiting for this moment since I refused to bow to him and built an empire without his name, his money, or his tainted legacy.

Krista was already typing furiously, firing off messages. "Give me twenty minutes. I can bury this under the animal shelter campaign if we get in front of it now."

Zane was pulling up analytics. "Better make it ten. It's gaining traction in the conspiracy and gossip forums.

I watched her. The way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her teeth worried her lower lip, the way her fingers moved with lethal precision. Most people crumbled under pressure. Lawyers panicked. Agents groveled. Even Garrett defaulted to brute force. She barked orders at Zane while somehow managing to shoot me a look that said, Don't just stand there, help.

That's when it hit me.

She wasn't just good at this.

She was brilliant.

The realization hit like a sucker punch.

This woman would set the world on fire before she'd let it bury me. And I'd never wanted anything more. Against all reason, for the first time in years, I trusted someone.