A Wolfe in the Woods

CHAPTER 1

BLANCHETTE

Iran through a forest shrouded in fog, the frigid air wet against my skin. Darkness pressed in on me from all sides as howls in the distance sliced through the night. They grew louder with every ragged breath I took.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears, louder than my footsteps, more painful than the branches that whipped at my arms and face as I stumbled forward through the blackness. The howls increased and then multiplied. Then came footfalls—several. A pack.

My legs dragged as if stuck in mud. In dreams, you could never run fast. Speed was an illusion. They were gaining on me. I could feel them right behind me. Smoky breaths at my heels, claws scraping the forest floor.

And then, miraculously—light!

I broke through the tree line, gasping desperately, narrowly escaping the claws of the dense forest, stumbling into a clearing. For a moment I was relieved. Thank the gods, I was safe. Until I realized I wasn’t free.

In front of me stood a mountainous tower of granite rising from the earth that extended to the dark skies above. There was no way out…no escape this time.

I turned to meet my fate.

They had arrived.

Eyes glowing. Muzzles low. Steam curling from their mouths into the frozen air. Their monstrous jaws salivating, dripping as they closed in around me.

I curled into a ball, crouching low, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping to disappear. My arms wrapped around my head, a fragile shield against what was to come.

But I couldn’t block out the largest of them. His majestic gray, silver, and white fur, his gold flecked eyes locked onto mine. Those penetrating orbs pierced right through me, finding what they hungered for. Fear.

He came closer.

His muzzle brushed my neck, breath hot against my skin, jaws forming a wicked grin.

His sudden snarl tore through my ears—

BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT!

I bolted upright, heart pounding, breath ragged.

My phone’s alarm screamed on, its shrill blare still echoing with the sound of the beast’s growl. My skin was damp, my sheets twisted around me like a death grip. I looked at the alarm.

“Shit!”

I was going to be late.

Ahead of me, the monolithic gleaming glass tower of Skoll Corp loomed, just as imposing and intimidating as it had been the day I’d arrived for my interview. Back then, I’d been hopeful, driven, and determined. Now, eight years later, it only stirred dread in me.

As I approached, a wave of dizziness tilted the world.

For a moment, the tower seemed to sway. I blinked hard and fixed my gaze on the glass doors, using them as a tether.

My body and soul were wobbly, weak, the effects of too many sleepless nights obsessing over this damn presentation—the one that could make or break everything—and what I feared was a pretty nasty stomach bug.

I’d barely slept two hours, which was still more than the night before. No sleep coupled with a fever…I wasn’t even certain caffeine would’ve helped. It might’ve given me a much-needed jolt, but I was running on fumes already. Even those were evaporating.

In the plaza, people milled by with familiar vacant expressions or always in a rush.

Above them, holo-screens flickered to life across the glass towers—ads shifting midair, faces bright and too perfect, tracking movement as they recalibrated for passing eyes.

One person was suited and emotionless, the next wore hungry eyes, fixed on their next transaction or destination.

There was a kind of lifeless grace to the flow of bodies, a desperate efficiency that pulsed through the city.

That was the thing about Graymore: It didn’t do moderation. You were either ravenous or numb. There was no in-between.

And when it came to the inhabitants of this city, I often felt that I couldn’t see their faces even though I was staring directly at them. It was as if the city had hollowed people out—left only the shell, still moving but barely functioning.

On the worst days, I’d catch my own reflection and wonder when the hollowing had started in me too. Not all at once. Just…little pieces, quietly falling away.

It was a muggy and humid day, the peak of summer having hit.

The heat sunk low, crawling like vines between the towers and concrete pavement of the Vault, the financial district of Graymore.

When I reached the automatic doors of Skoll Corp, they whooshed open.

The icy air of the lobby would’ve felt nice if not for the way it made my sinuses immediately seize up.

The line for the security gates crawled forward, bodies shifting impatiently.

As I fumbled for the key card in my tote, I felt a dull throb in my temples, a migraine that had been forming since I’d left my apartment.

With the retina scanners down this week, the lobby felt even more chaotic.

Security lenses tracked every movement, the silent sweep of biometric sensors seeming to hum beneath it all, like the building itself was watching.

My fingers brushed receipts, lip balm, an old mint—then a small vial of medicine.

I hated the taste. Bitter and earthy, like dead roots. I paused, regarding the lilac crystal vial, trying to remember how much Megan had told me to take. Unscrewing the cap, I took a big swig. More was probably better, especially with a fever and a migraine.

I clenched my jaw and kept digging.

Finally, my fingers found hard, cool plastic, and I stepped forward, swiping my badge across the scanner.

Beep.

The gate opened with a green blinking light, my name and face appearing on the screen. Blanchette Redfield, it read…right below an unflattering picture of me.

Offering the gate guard an apologetic smile, I stepped through. He barely noticed. Just another face in the flood.

When I reached the elevators, I halted.

“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath, another curl of nerves tightening in my belly.

The longest line I’d ever seen snaked toward the few cars arriving randomly, each one overstuffed before the doors fully opened.

Above the entrances, translucent panels pulsed with shifting data—floor traffic, priority access, routing delays—constantly updating faster than anyone could follow.

When bells chimed and doors opened, the crowd surged, cramming in where they could, like sardines.

The few times I tried to edge forward, the space in front of me closed, a sea of bodies filling the gap, cutting me off. I was always a breath too slow. A step too late.

One by one, the elevators came and went.

And one by one, the crowd disappeared—until no one was left.

Except me.

I felt dejected. The more I hurried, the more I was delayed.

By the time I get there, will there even be a presentation left to give? I lamented silently.

And then—

Ding.

Suddenly, a lone elevator arrived. Its doors slid open with a mechanical sigh, warm light spilling out like a quiet invitation.

I raced forward, half expecting it to vanish.

The moment I slipped inside the empty car, I jammed the button for my floor. As the doors closed, I let my head fall back, the adrenaline making me dizzy. The metallic wall against the back of my head was a cool relief.

No sooner had I exhaled when a massive hand slid between the closing gap in the doors, forcing them back open.

A minotaur. One I didn’t recognize.

He squeezed himself in, filling the space, woolly brown-and-black fur framing a broad face partially obscured by wire-rimmed glasses.

His glossy black hooves clacked softly against the mirrored floor, his thin tail flicked behind him, poking neatly through a tailored hole in the back of his slate-gray slacks.

He was surprisingly graceful for his size. He pressed a button, then offered me a curt apologetic nod.

The elevator groaned under the added weight as it began its slow, perilous ascent. The minotaur bowed his head slightly to keep his horns from grazing the ceiling and clutched a tiny leather briefcase in front of him with both hands, like a schoolboy guarding his lunchbox.

My gaze went to the lighted floor markers as the elevator churned, willing the car to move more swiftly.

The numbers crawled by: 5…6…7. Under my breath, I began to recite my presentation, “The future does not appear; it is carved. Roads are not found; they are made by those with vision and the will to press forward. This is not a collaboration but an alignment of dual forces: Skoll Corporation and Vulcan MNE—rooted in power, united in purpose.”

Damn. Had Erik said he wanted united in purpose? Or united in vision?

“Big presentation?” the minotaur asked. For someone so large, his voice was soft, almost meek. I realized he’d been watching me with curiosity as I tried to fix myself.

“Pretty obvious, huh? Sorry,” I answered with a small, distracted smile, which felt more like a grimace. My voice sounded nasally from the air-conditioning, and I cleared my throat, feeling like something was perpetually stuck there.

We stopped eight floors early.

The doors opened to a hallway neither of us needed.

“This isn’t your floor?” I asked, politely but urgently.

He squinted at the floor buttons, then back at his slip of paper. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “I think I pressed the wrong one. Sorry—it’s my first day.”

Before I could respond, he reached out and—ding—pressed another.

“Oh wait. I…might’ve done it again,” he admitted, adjusting his glasses.

I took in a slow, deep breath. United in purpose, I decided. Erik had definitely said purpose during the briefing.

We arrived to the next wrong floor. Just as the doors slid open and before he could press another button, I forced a polite smile, turned, and stepped out.

“Have a good first day,” I murmured, already heading for the stairwell.

I’d be faster on foot…or crawling.

Only four more to go.

I took the stairs in a full sprint, arriving on my floor flushed, breathless, and drenched in sweat. I looked like I’d fought gravity and lost.