Chapter 14

Cora

“I haven’t touched that report,” I said, my voice sharp, slicing through the heavy tension in Kingston’s office. “That’s not my work.”

Amy’s arms were folded across her ample chest, mouth twisted into a smirk that made my blood boil. “You handed it off to me the day before you left the department. I remember it very clearly.”

“You’re lying,” I snapped, heat rising up my neck. “You’re just making this up because you want someone to blame.”

Kingston stood near the window, the city skyline behind him casting harsh shadows across his face. He hadn’t said anything as Amy and I sparred—just listened, his frown deepening as Amy and I traded accusations.

When he finally turned, his tone was difficult to interpret. “Cora. Unless you can provide evidence that contradicts the access records, you’ll be suspended without pay. It’s standard company policy.”

I froze.

No. I couldn’t be suspended. I couldn’t risk losing this job.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, stunned.

“I am,” he said, gaze flat. “This project is too important to risk further mistakes.”

Amy looked positively gleeful. “I guess you didn’t realize how serious this was,” she said sweetly, voice dripping poison. She hugged her tablet against her, barely able to control her excitement at my demise.

“But don’t worry,” she added. “The company will survive without you. Though I’d suggest you start packing.”

She leaned in a little closer, just enough that Kingston wouldn’t hear the next part. “This new drug project is everything to Kingston. You think some ignorant little human like you could possibly matter in a situation involving werewolves that are way more powerful than you?”

My jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. I clenched my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to swing at her before I stormed out of the office and the building.

That night, I stayed up late trying to pull records from the Sales Department database. But when I accessed the document management system, my permissions were disabled.

Of course.

Only one person would want to lock me out like this. Amy had already thought of everything to keep me from getting to the truth.

The next morning, I still showed up to work on time as though nothing at all was amiss. There would be no paycheck, no tasks assigned—just me at my desk, determined not to give her the satisfaction of watching me unravel.

I would also have all the time I needed to fix this mess.

Amy strutted past me midmorning, tablet in hand, with a posse of junior employees trailing her like ducklings.

“You know, you don’t have to be here,” she called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Unless you’re just performing for sympathy points. Is this what your desperation looks like?”

I kept my head down. Snapping at her wouldn’t change anything. Only solving this would.

A voice echoed in my head then, strong and powerful and just.

Solving the problem matters more than assigning blame.

Kingston’s words from the lab swam back through my thoughts like a thread I could hold onto.

I needed to fix this. Not even for Kingston’s approval. For me.

I pulled out my phone and texted Rock.

“Hey, are you still stuck in Sales?” I texted him.

“LOL yes,” he responded a few seconds later. “Six nights in a row. Amy’s got us cleaning up the report mess. Why?”

“I think she framed me. I want to fix the issue myself. Can you help?” I asked.

“That bitch,” Rock responded. “She’s the reason we’re all dying in here. Yeah, of course I’ll help. If you solve this, maybe we can go home at a reasonable hour again.”

He wasn’t joking. When I stopped by later that night, I found Rock in the break room downing instant coffee and cursing his spreadsheets like they had personally insulted him.

Together, we started picking through the damage. The medical equipment report had impacted supplier negotiations. Rock began working on projections to try and salvage a new deal. It wasn’t perfect—but it was something.

And I still had connections.

“Let me reach out to the medical equipment supplier representatives I worked with,” I said. “They might still trust me.”

Rock glanced at me. “You think they’ll take your call?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I have to try.”

To my surprise, they remembered me. They also remembered the way I had always been prepared, always double-checked every number, always followed up. At least someone did.

Once I sent Rock’s revised projections, three of the major clients responded with tentative interest.

“We might be back in business,” I whispered, hardly believing it.

Over the next week, Rock and I worked like machines. We came up with three tailored proposals, each crafted to the supplier’s specific needs. Every detail was reviewed three times over. We were able to conclude that every number was accurate and triple-checked them to be completely certain.

We weren’t just fixing a mistake. We were building a bridge.

By the end of Friday night, we had everything ready. I printed the final proposal and slipped it into a folder with Kingston’s name on the front.

I left it on his desk just after midnight.

And then I let Rock drag me to a bar to celebrate our hard work.

The place was called Howl, and it was a favorite haunt for local werewolves. I immediately felt out of place when I entered, seeing all of the beautiful werewolves laughing and talking among themselves.

Rock showed up with his hair slicked back and a white sweater vest. He was grinning widely when I arrived, standing by the bar already with a drink in each hand.

In contrast, he insisted I wear something “so offensively hot it makes people uncomfortable” to juxtapose his new “innocent” look.

So… I wore the short red dress I’d been saving for no real reason, and immediately regretted how tight it was against my hips and ass. As I wove through the crowd, I was acutely aware of all of the stares I was getting as I passed through. People’s attention raked me up and down, and I tried my best not to wilt under their gazes.

“You took my assignment seriously,” Rock said approvingly as his gaze traveled from my heeled feet to my styled hair. He handed me one of the drinks and grinned.

“Of course,” I said. “Despite what Amy might be telling everyone, I take my assigned tasks very seriously.”

“To new beginnings,” Rock toasted, raising his glass of something neon.

“To sleep,” I added, clinking mine against his.

We downed the drinks before we ordered shots. Then another round. And another.

I was dizzy with relief and alcohol, my chest warm with something like pride. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I’d taken control of my own story.

I was pleasantly light-headed, my inhibitions floating away on a cloud. Laughter came easier the faster the drinks flowed.

“Thank you,” I told Rock later in the evening, tipping forward to rest my head on his shoulder. “For not letting me give up.”

He bumped his glass against mine again, gentler this time. “You pulled it off, babe. You earned this hangover.”

It was only then that I started to feel the room tilt, and I realized I needed the restroom urgently.

“Be right back,” I promised.

I stumbled off the barstool, muttering something about needing to pee, and pushed through the crowd. The lights were too bright. The music pounded through my chest like a second heartbeat.

I wasn’t looking where I was going.

And then—I slammed right into someone.

A hard chest. A familiar, masculine scent.

I looked up, disoriented.

When I looked up, I was staring right into the eyes of my werewolf boss, Kingston.