Page 21 of Dominion

“Who is she?”

Ben folded his arms across his chest. “She’s my assistant. She left the bomb.”

Five pairs of cold eyes turned to her.

She shrank in her seat.

“She was blackmailed.” Ben handed Stanley Ashley’s phone. “This is her phone. If the men who blackmailed her call, she has to pick up. Otherwise, don’t trust her with it.” To her, he said, “You tell them you have the laptop and you want to make the trade. You don’t know anything about the wolf. Got it?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Ben looked at Stanley. “So, are you willing?”

The man nodded grudgingly. “Yeah. We’ll watch her.”

Ben touched her shoulder, sending a jolt of electric energy through her. “Behave yourself. I’ll be back within the hour.” He left with Mark.

She instantly noticed the absence of his powerful presence. Not only did the energy in the room change, but she experienced a pang of dismay, as if being separated from him unsettled her. She definitely had Stockholm syndrome.

The men pulled out folding chairs and opened them, sitting in a ring around her.

“So… you’re all wolves?”

Their leader gave her a cold stare, then turned to the other men, pointedly ignoring her. “What do you think?”

“About Stone?” asked the man beside him with a pierced eyebrow. “I think you were right to question his loyalty. I mean, I came because you asked me, but if he had called… well, the only reason I’d come would be out of respect to Leon’s memory. But that collateral is going to run out soon if all his little brother does is take.”

“Well, technically this is the first favor he’s pulled in the three years he’s been here,” a younger Asian man spoke up.

She didn’t know why she felt so relieved to hear someone speak in Ben’s defense. She definitely didn’t understand the politics underfoot, but she was catching enough to put it together. They were a gang of some sort, and Leon, Ben’s dead brother had been a part of them, but Ben wasn’t.

“Yeah, but where’s he been? Lone wolves are trouble, that’s all I’m saying,” muttered the guy with the pierced eyebrow. “You know how Arctic wolves handle lone wolves.”

“No, how?” the Asian man asked.

“The pack hunts them down and kills them. I meancanis lupine,not shifters. But I’m saying we could take a page from their book.”

The other men grunted in some form of assent.

She attempted conversation again. “You guys are a pack? And this is your clubhouse?” she asked, looking around. The warehouse was made of steel construction, like a giant barn. The floors were plywood, painted gray but covered in dark stains. Folding chairs and tables were stacked against one wall, and a row of lockers stood in the back. On one end it sported the features of any good man cave—a pool table, foosball, and dartboard. Otherwise, it was a big, empty space.

What did they do here?

Stanley flicked his gaze to her. “No one is talking to you.”

Her stomach rumbled. She had skipped dinner because she’d been too keyed up about the meeting. Now it must be pushing nine o’clock.

“Wanna play pool?” the pierced eyebrow asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Stanley got up and followed.

She was left with the young Asian and a huge hulk of a man, who the Asian man called Brian. They talked on and on about baseball statistics.

After what must have been forty-five minutes, she pushed herself to her feet, determined to find the restroom to at least get herself some water to drink.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Brian asked, pushing her back down.

“May I have some water?”

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