Mara's POV
The office smells like leather and expensive cologne, the kind of scent that makes me want to burn the whole building down.
I move quickly to Declan Cross's private office, my gloved fingers sliding open drawer after drawer. Nothing. Just contracts, investment portfolios, more paperwork about deals that probably ruined someone's life. My heart beats heavily against my ribs, but I keep my breathing steady. Five years of planning comes down to the next ten minutes.
The files have to be here somewhere. The ones proving he knew exactly what his company was doing when they foreclosed on our land. When they scattered my pack like we were nothing.
I open the bottom drawer of his wooden desk and finally I find a locked metal box.
My lockpick is halfway into the mechanism when I hear it, the elevator ding down the hall.
No no no. Not yet. He is supposed to be at that investor dinner for another hour.
The lock clicks open. I grab the box and flip it open. I see documents, bank transfers, dates that match exactly when my father lost everything. My hands shake as I pull out my phone to photograph them.
The office door slams open.
"Put it down."
I freeze. His voice is deep, cold, and coming from directly behind me.
I turn around, shoving the documents into my jacket. Declan Cross stands in the doorway, all six-foot-three of him, wearing a black suit that probably costs more than my rent. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass, dark hair styled perfectly, and those ice-blue eyes are fixed on me like a predator who just found his prey.
"I said put it down." He steps inside and closes the door behind him. The lock clicks.
My wolf stirs inside me, uneasy. I should run. I calculate the distance to the window. Fifteen feet. Twenty stories up. I could shift and survive the fall if I had to.
He moves faster than any human should. One second he is by the door, the next his hand is around my wrist, grabbing and shaking me away from the desk. The documents scatter across the floor.
"Who sent you?" His grip is strong, I can't pull myself away. His face is only inches from mine now, and that is when it finally hits me.
The scent. Pine and smoke and something wild that makes every nerve in my body light up like a live wire.
No.
His eyes widen. His nostrils flare. I watch the realization sank into him the same way it is tearing through me.
Mate.
"You," he breathes, and his grip tightens. Not painful, but possessive. His other hand comes up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding me in place. "What the hell are you?"
I slam my knee up into his stomach, putting all my strength into the hit.
He grunts and his grip loosens just enough. I rip my arm free and bolt for the door. My fingers close around the handle.
His body slams into mine from behind, pinning me against the solid wood. His chest is pressed to my back, his breath hot against my ear.
"You are not leaving." His voice is rough now, barely human. I can feel his wolf rising, responding to mine. The mate bond is a living thing between us, pulling and demanding and completely wrong.
"Get off me, let go of me." I thrash, but he is too strong. He grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand.
"Who are you?" He turns me around so I'm facing him, my back against the door. His eyes have shifted, wolf eyes, glowing faintly in the dim office light. "Tell me your name."
"Go to hell." I spit on the floor.
His free hand comes up to my face, tilting my chin so I have to look at him. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and the touch sends heat racing through my body. The bond demands I lean into it. I want to bite him.
"I know you," he says slowly, scanning my face. "You are from…"
I spit in his face.
He goes completely still. Then slowly, deliberately, he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. When he looks at me again, something dangerous has entered his expression.
"Bad choice."
He kisses me. Hard and claiming and furious. I bite his lip and taste blood. He groans and presses closer, his hips pinning mine to the door. My wolf is screaming at me to submit, to take what's ours, and I hate it. I hate him.
I kiss him back like I'm trying to destroy him.
His hand releases my wrists and tangles in my hair. My hands drop to his chest, shoving, then gripping his jacket.
The documents do not matter. My plan does not matter. There is just his mouth on mine and the bond burning through every coherent thought.
He pulls back suddenly, breathing hard. His eyes are still wolf.
"You are staying," he says. Not a question but a command.
"I am leaving." I reach for the door handle behind me.
His hand slams against the door beside my head. "I can smell your pack on you. Thorne pack. The ones who lost everything five years ago." His smile is sharp. "You came here for revenge."
My blood runs cold.
"Here is what is going to happen," he continues, leaning in close. "You are going to tell me everything. And then you are going to stay right where I can see you."
"Make me."
His smile widens. "Gladly."