The 40th floor was different the following morning. It was usually choked with corporate productivity; abusy hive of werewolves working and walking around, somehow it had been replaced by a jaggedtension that Nadia could smell the moment she stepped out of the elevator.. 

As she walked toward her office, the Senior Analysts huddled near the coffee station stopped talking. Their eyes followed her with a cold, defensive glare. 

"Look at her," Marcus muttered, loud enough for the sound to carry on the pack’s heightened frequency. "Thinking she’s some kind of savior because she stayed late to dig through trash we’dalready written off." 

"It’s an insult," Sarah whispered back, her scent...