11. Sophie
Sophie
The moment I leave Max’s office, the strongest urge hits me.
Run.
It comes out of nowhere. My pulse is pounding in my ears and my palms are slick against the tablet I’m clutching to my chest like a shield. Every instinct in my body is screaming to put as much distance as possible between myself and the three alphas I just left behind.
What the actual fuck?
I immediately catch myself, slowing my breathing, counting each inhale and exhale. I can feel my pulse return to normal, a skill I’ve perfected over years of high-stakes missions.
There’s no fucking way I’m letting a bunch of alphas get in my head.
Focus, Sophie. Find the mole, then get out.
“Sophie?”
Lucy’s voice cuts through the fog. I blink, and suddenly she’s right there beside me, her brow slightly furrowed. She’s been talking for at least thirty seconds, I realize, pointing at something on the wall, and I haven’t heard a single word.
“Sorry, Lucy.” The tremor in my voice is real this time, at least there’s that. “First day jitters.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” She gives me a warm, understanding smile. “Everyone’s nervous on their first day. You’ll settle in before you know it.”
I return her smile, and I can feel my skin stretching over my face unnaturally.
My first day in this job and it’s already a complete shitshow.
I’m going to be working with Pack Cavill, every single day, for God knows how long.
Max with his cold green eyes that seem to look straight into my soul. Ethan with his quiet curiosity that makes me feel like a specimen under glass. And Finn—
Finn, who wouldn’t even look at me.
Something twists in my chest before I can stop it.
Why did he have to be so weird about it? So we kissed, big fucking deal. Griffin told me they were playboys. Which is totally fine and none of my business, but his reaction still doesn’t add up. A man like that shouldn’t care that I walked out on him.
Unless this is about his ego. Jesus, it must be about his ego. I bet he can’t handle the rejection. And he’s probably not used to it, since it’s got to be really fucking hard for any omega to reject him.
Because I know what it’s like to feel that pull. Just like when I met him in that hotel. I know part of the reason I went to his room was Cindy, wanting to get justice for her... but part of me knows there was another reason, one I couldn’t even dare admit to myself.
But then I remember Finn’s coldness again—
Why does that bother you? It shouldn’t bother you.
He’s a stranger. That’s all he is. That night at the gala was a mistake, a case of wrong identity, a kiss that meant nothing.
Nothing at all.
Lucy leads me back through the Atrium and out onto a glass bridge, suspended in midair like something out of a science fiction movie. Through the transparent walls, I can see the grounds below, and nestled near a small river, a house.
I look at it curiously. Stone and timber from what I can tell, with a steeply pitched roof and a wraparound porch. Smoke curls lazily from the chimney. A house you’d expect to find tucked into the mountains somewhere, not sitting on a billionaire’s corporate estate.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward it.
Lucy follows my gaze. “Oh, that’s the pack residence. Where Mr. Cavill, Mr. Brooks, and Mr. Preston live.”
I stare at her. “That’s their house?”
She laughs. “I know, right? Everyone expects some massive mansion when they first get here.” She shrugs. “I’ve never been inside, but I hear it’s nice. Although not what you’d expect from three billionaires.”
Yeah, it definitely isn’t what I expected, that’s for sure.
“This bridge connects to the Residential Wing,” Lucy continues as we walk. “That’s where the staff quarters are, along with the canteen and some of the common spaces.”
I nod along, hurrying to keep up with her.
“We’ll start on the first floor,” Lucy says as we reach the elevator. “I’ll give you the full tour so you know where everything is.”
The elevator doors slide open, and we descend.
The Residential Wing feels different from the rest of the building, warm wood accents against clean white walls, pendant lights casting pools of amber glow.
Lucy leads me through a spacious canteen. A handful of staff are scattered across the tables, heads bent over laptops and lunch trays. I take my time, watching the people more than the room.
Through a service window I can see into the kitchen, where a woman in a chef’s coat barks instructions at two younger assistants with the rapid-fire authority of a drill sergeant.
“That’s Elena,” Lucy says, lowering her voice. “Head chef. She’s incredible, but she can be intense.”
Elena glances up as we pass. Her eyes sweep over me, flick to Lucy, then back to the station where one of her assistants is plating something too slowly. She snaps a correction in Spanish and doesn’t look our way again.
We take the elevator to the second floor.
“Wellness facilities,” Lucy says as the doors open. A gym with a boxing corner. A yoga studio.
My eyes track to the boxing corner before I can stop them. I look away.
Lucy presses the button for the fourth floor as we step back into the elevator. “Staff quarters are split by gender, third floor for the men, fourth for the women. Old-fashioned, maybe, but some of the omegas who work here appreciate it.”
“How many people live here?”
“Twenty or so? It changes.” Lucy shrugs. “People come and go.”
Twenty people inside this building every night, long after everyone else has gone home.
The doors slide open on the fourth floor.
“It’s quieter up here,” Lucy says. “Mostly researchers and a few of the administrative staff.”
We walk down the corridor, past doors with the occasional welcome mat or potted plant, small touches that mark the people who’ve been here long enough to settle in.
People making their temporary housing feel like home.
People with something to lose. Or something to hide.
“There’s another girl from marketing on this floor,” Lucy says.
“Phoebe. You’ll like her. She’s really sweet.
She stays here during the week but goes home on weekends.
A lot of the staff do that. A couple of Chef Elena’s assistants live here too.
They mostly keep to themselves, but they’re both lovely. ”
We reach the end of the hall, and Lucy stops in front of the last door on the right.
“This is you.” She pulls out a keycard and hands it to me. “Your suitcase should already be inside. One of the security guys brought it up earlier.”
I swipe the card and step inside.
I stop short.
Lucy slips in behind me, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Nice, right?”
Nice is an understatement. A queen-sized bed dominates one wall, dressed in crisp white linens with a charcoal throw blanket folded at the foot. The furniture is modern and warm, a desk with a comfortable chair, a dresser, a small wardrobe.
But the real selling point is the sitting area by the window.
A plush armchair positioned beside floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the grounds, the fading afternoon light painting everything in shades of gold.
“I know, right?” Lucy grins at my expression. “Pack Cavill takes really good care of their people. It’s one of the reasons everyone loves working here.”
“It’s beautiful,” I manage.
And it is. It’s also a very effective way to ensure loyalty.
“I’ll let you get settled in.” Lucy hovers by the door, fingers playing with the lanyard around her neck.
“If you need anything, anything at all, just ask. My extension is 221.” She pauses, and her face softens.
“And don’t worry about tomorrow. First days are always the hardest. You’re going to do great. ”
And I know she means it. I can tell by the way she holds my gaze, steady and open, none of the fake corporate warmth I’ve learned to spot a mile away.
“Thank you, Lucy. Really.”
She gives me a little wave and slips out.
I take a deep breath and move to the window. The grounds stretch out below me, gardeners, security personnel, a car being washed. Somewhere in the building, Elena is running her kitchen. Any one of them could be the mole.
I press my forehead against the cool glass and close my eyes.
Focus. One step at a time.
I pull out the folder Ethan gave me, sink onto the edge of the bed, and flip it open. Rows of faces stare back at me.
I have a mole to catch. Everything else, even the three alphas who happen to be stupidly hot, is just noise.
I start reading.