Warrick POV
I kept hitting Scarlett’s number over and over, the screen glowing in the harsh sunlight. Every single time: “Unable to connect.” My back was soaked with sweat—half from the blazing sun beating down on us, half from pure panic. The cleaning director stood next to me, looking just as wrecked, his voice shaking. “Warrick, if she won’t help us… what if Alpha Hale fires both of us?”
Fuck. The word burned in my head. Alpha Hale always kept score. My stuff? I’d thrown it out on his direct orders—he wouldn’t lose sleep over that. But Scarlett’s office? That cleanup happened last week on my watch. The cleaning director was just following orders. I was the one who’d signed off. I was the one who’d hang for this.
“Why the hell did you have to mention her office?” I muttered, squinting
