Page 34 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

W ilton stared out the window of his cramped study, chewing the inside of his cheek. How long before she realized Anikka had vanished? He’d had two orders: sow discord in the pack and keep Anikka away from their Alpha.

He’d failed both—and he knew it.

But why had he failed? He’d wrecked the shipping office. Scattered records all over the floor. No one should’ve known which cargo was coming or going by morning. He’d even cut power to half the shipyard! That should’ve halted the cranes, at least slowed the off-loading.

But no. The pack had powered through like nothing had happened.

Wilton turned away from the window, half-considering shifting into his wolf and running. Maybe he could disappear into another pack. Start over.

But that would mean losing his rank. No more Alpha. No more control. He still had three wolves—well, three left . And those three still obeyed his every word. That was worth something.

A soft knock broke his thoughts.

“Sir,” a guard said, stepping into the study without waiting for permission.

Wilton snapped his head up, ready to unleash a verbal beating. He was an Alpha , damn it! You didn’t walk in on an Alpha like that.

But the guard’s expression gave him pause. There was irritation in those eyes. Defiance. Wilton recognized the look—it was the same one the last two wolves wore right before they left his pack.

Why did they keep leaving? He kept them fed. He kept a roof over their heads. What more did they want?

He scowled. “Who is it?”

The guard barely managed not to roll his eyes. “I don’t know. She didn’t give a name.”

Wilton stiffened. She ?

There were only two women who could be at that door. Anikka… or her .

If it was Anikka, maybe she was coming home. Maybe she’d been alone too long. Wolves couldn’t stay solitary for long. Maybe she’d realized she needed him after all—

But what if it wasn’t Anikka?

Wilton’s stomach dropped. If it was her , the one who’d given him the job… then he was in trouble.

“Tell her to go away,” he muttered. “Tell her I’m not here.”

“I don’t think so,” purred a smooth, amused voice.

Wilton whirled toward the door.

The woman stepped inside, calm and composed, pulling off her crimson leather gloves. She dropped them on his desk like she owned the place. The guard— his guard—was gone.

No growl of warning. No protection. Just... gone.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, Wilton,” she said, her tone almost playful.

Wilton couldn’t move. She looked like something out of a nightmare—a real-life Cruella in sleek black leather pants, stiletto boots, and a fire-red wool coat. Her silver-streaked hair curled over her shoulders like a threat.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. He took a step back, then stopped himself and squared his shoulders in a flimsy show of confidence.

She arched a brow, clearly amused. “What do I want? Darling, I want results.”

She leaned her hip against the desk, surveying him like he was a disappointing appetizer.

“You failed both tasks I gave you. You didn’t destabilize the pack, and you let little Anikka slip right into the Alpha’s lap.” She flicked a bit of lint from her sleeve. “And now, instead of fixing your mess, you’re standing here like a deer in headlights.”