Idara
When we reached the door, the man stepped aside and gestured politely, a small smile on his face.
“I’m Denver,” he said as he opened it for me.
I honestly didn’t care what his name was. Right now, fear was doing somersaults in my stomach. I didn’t want to lose this job and end up back at square one again.
I swallowed hard and walked in, my heart pounding faster than normal.
Oh God, please help me.
The office was huge—far larger than I had imagined—but my anxiety didn’t allow me to take in much of it. My eyes went straight ahead.
His chair was empty.
Only his desk stood there, papers neatly arranged like they’d been measured and placed with precision. Above the seat, mounted on the wall, was the head of a wolf.
For a moment, I tried to convince myself it was just decoration.
