Page 8 of The Wolf Prince's Fated Heart

The guy is talking to the masked men, frantically gesturing at his wife and kids. He sinks to his knees, his hands clasped together as he pleads for their lives.

The woman begs as well, crying and gesturing with her right hand, cradling the baby boy to her chest with her left. Tears trail down her cheeks. She is petrified and praying the criminals would just take her instead. The older boy is shadowing her, his eyes wide with fear.

The younger girl has stopped her fussing and is cradling her stuffed doll. The woman with the baby bends her knee, hiding the girl behind it as if that will protect them. The girl hides her face into the fabric of her mother's pants, and the woman lowers herself to crouch over the young girl. The father looks behind himself for help that won't come.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Mr. Grey's grating voice comes from behind me.

I tear my gaze away from the screen and gasp when I see my boss, Mr. Grey watching the footage with an unreadable expression on his face. Though there's a tightness in his frame, his eyes reveal no more emotion.

Strangely, I don't find that disturbing. Quite the opposite. I know from experience that emotions are poisonous, and I would rather never let myself be affected by them.

Even though I hate tears, I realize my face is wet from crying. That little girl reminds me too much of myself. Of a childhood I never had. An innocence I'd lost far too soon. An ignorance that's only present when I am actively forcing myself to forget the past that haunts me to this very day. An abusive father and a drug-addicted mother. It's a perfect combo. No wonder I have trust issues.

Wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I search for Mr. Grey's gaze. I didn't even see him move from his chair, and yet, he managed to come up from behind me. He found a new place to sit, perched on the edge of his black, suede sofa. He nods once to acknowledge my reaction and then pats the spot next to him.

My hands shaking, I rise on unsteady legs, my calves stiff from so many hours in front of a computer screen. I drop to the sofa, making sure to keep plenty of space between us. It's not an easy task considering his massive size.

A warm hand comes to rest on mine. Mr. Grey's fingers brush my knuckles, but for the first time in a long time, a person's touch doesn't make me panic. It's a very strange sensation. Usually, I hate being close to other people, and that is definitely connected to my reluctance to live in the real world, but right now, that need to crawl out of my own skin and to stay as far away from them as possible isn't so prominent.

Stroking my wrist gently, he leaves his hand where it is.

"It'll be fine, Miss Strayed," he says softly. "It's about time you and I got to meet."

Right. Sure. The live stream is clearly doing just wonderful, and apparently, that gives us time to get to know one another.

"Yes. We do need to talk," I agree, silently asking him not to change the subject. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid that F-Rec has been compromised."

Mr. Grey's demeanor shifts. He tenses, makes a move to shift away, but then lets out a breath and says, "I believe you."

His gaze swings toward the screen and stares intently at it. Neither one of us truly stops watching the live stream. They seem to be waiting for something or someone.

"You do?" I ask in surprise. I thought he was going to need more convincing.

"People seem to forget that it's my software, Miss Strayed," he says with a sad smile. "I wrote it, therefore, I know everything about it. Including the fact that it was hacked and is now being used to commit atrocious acts."

While I knew that, I didn't know that he kept up to date with it. Not when he has a multi-billion-dollar corporation to run.

"I've been going through the code to try to find the bug, but so far, I haven't had much luck," Mr. Grey tells me, and I can't believe I'm even thinking this, but talking tech with him makes him infinitely hotter than he already is. "You better get comfortable, Miss Strayed. We have a lot to discuss. I certainly hope you're not against working long and late hours right here with me."

My mouth falls open.

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

This must be a dream.

Yeah, I must've fallen asleep behind my desk and woken up in an alternate reality where my boss suggested that I help him save his software by practically spending all my nights with him. If I didn't trust the credibility of the live footage, I'd have had a difficult time believing this is reality.

"Miss Strayed?" Mr. Grey asks, tilting his head to the side. "I'm going to need your help."

Oh, yes. This is definitely some women's fantasy.

But because it isn't mine, I clear my throat and say, "I'll do whatever it takes to bring the people responsible for threatening that family behind bars."

CHAPTER 3

Graham

If I don't tread carefully, Cassidy Strayed will get the shock of a lifetime.

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