Page 5 of The Wolf Prince's Fated Heart

"We'll get to the bottom of it," Grayden assures me as he gets ready to leave.

I nod. I sure hope so.

If we don't, I'm afraid that even my wolf strength won't be enough to carry the weight of all those deaths.

Let me out, my wolf threatens. I'll tear them apart limb by limb.

I growl, forcing myself to calm down, but there's a beast inside of me, and he doesn't like to let go so easily.

And I sure as hell am determined not to let the guilty parties get away.

CHAPTER 2

Cassidy

"What should we do?" Tim asks, his voice laced with panic.

I want to tell him that I don't know, but that wouldn't be good leadership. As the F-Rec's department manager, I have to know everything that has to do with the software. Or at least, I should.

"Should we call someone?" Tim asks again. He points at the screen in the far corner. "They're going to kill them!"

Despite everyone's intense training during the onboarding process, the fear in the control room is real. The truth is, we are all programmers with different skills. Tim, for example, works on constantly updating the code so F-Rec can bypass the firewalls with ease and gain access to the vast collection of videos. He also spends a lot of time making sure that F-Rec correctly unblurs the pictures without adding unnecessary facial features that would impede the software's goal of locating criminals.

We might not have directly written all the code, but we have watched it long enough that we can perform most of its functions manually. In some instances, such as this one, it's beneficial. In others, not so much. Like right now when my mind can't separate the screams from the facts or even the faces of the people who are in grave danger of dying.

"This is live!" Tim exclaims, pushing out of his chair. "Fuck, Cassie. We have to call someone!"

"Sit down, Timothy," I tell him with forced calmness. I can't let my team see my fear. I'm in control here, and I have to act like it. "Do I need to remind you that you're under contract?"

Tim's face pales, and he shrinks back in the white, padded computer chair.

"People are going to die," Tim hisses. "We should at least try to do something."

"There is no 'we' in this scenario," I reply. "I will take care of this. I'll bring this matter up the ladder."

Tim rolls his chair closer to his screen. "That guy is begging them to release his wife and kids, and they don't care. We can't look the other way just because—"

I smash my fist into his keyboard. I know the consequences, and I accept them as the keys crack into metal and plastic fragments. I don't often express my emotions, but right now, I'm out of options.

When my heart rate finally slows, I lift my gaze to meet Tim's. He's afraid of me. Or at least, he appears to be.

What would I know? My track record with trusting men is spotty.

My anger, though, is unavoidable.

He knows that he pushed me too far. Before I broke up with him, we'd been dating for nearly two years. He was my longest relationship. If he doesn't know how to read my tells, then no one does.

I'm still trying to find the words, but before I can say anything, he spins around. I grab his elbow. The sudden contact makes him lift his gaze. I look into his eyes, wanting him to see my unhappiness with him. I won't be questioned in front of my team. He allows himself too much leeway because we've dated.

"Go. Back. To. Work," I hiss, making sure each word comes out sharp and precise.

My point is emphasized when one of my technicians quietly taps on his keyboard as if nothing just happened. There will be talk. Even now, sitting silent and still, we might have an audience of half a dozen people who’ve taken off their headphones to pay closer attention to us.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbles and resumes his position.

I straighten my back and look around the room.

The tech people are all hunched over their screens, shoulders slightly raised, their bodies on high alert. They're wary of being singled out. Programmers normally work as a unit, and no one wants to be named or put on the spot.

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