The Mark of a Gamma

Chapter 1

I slammed the door of my pickup truck and hunched my shoulders against the bitterly cold wind that swirled around me. I hate winter. White powdered shit crunches beneath my combat boots and sticks to the soles as I make my way to the large structure that I've come to live in more than the packhouse down the road.

Why no one has bothered to plow the employee parking lot yet, I don't know, but it pisses me off to have to trudge through this shit. Every year it's the same damn thing and every year I piss and moan about the fucking snow. Why couldn't we have had our territory somewhere in the south? I would have happily relocated to a southern branch of our company if it had been an option, but it wasn't, so here I am.

The cold doesn't necessarily bother me, it's the icy wet crap that's blowing down with it and settling between the upturned collar of my leather jacket and the back of my neck that sends an icy chill down my body as it melts before I can even make it inside the building.

Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I quicken my pace and jerk my chin at the security guards who are stationed at the front entrance of the multistory Black Wolf Security building. They bow their heads submissively and mutter their typical morning greeting as I pass by, not even bothering to stop and walk myself through the metal detectors every other person aside from myself and my two partners have to shuffle through.

The glass doors close softly behind me, and I step through another doorway into a high-ceilinged rectangular lobby.

The fountain in the middle of the lobby bubbles up in the center, splashing down in waves to the pool below where the bright blue tiles give the water a false Caribbean coloring. It's meant to be a warm and relaxing display – in the middle of fucking winter – and the noise of the water is supposed to act as a buffer to drown out the typical noise of the bustling space.

It's too early for most employees aside from the security team that never leaves, the overachievers that think showing up early for work will put them in good standings with their bosses, and the tech team that rotates shifts who, much like the security team, never leave, leaving a constant flux of able bodies present twenty-four-seven.

A long, elegant counter stretches out before me below a flashy metallic sign displaying our company's name and logo. On either side of the counter are a set of elevators but between those and behind the counter, a redheaded she-wolf looks up from her hidden computer screen. Her eyes shift with recognition when she spots me heading in that direction, and she stands up to make her greeting. I don't have to look behind the counter to know she's wearing her typical four-inch-high heels, and short, tight skirt. Those fucking heels give her ass a nice shape and her long legs are given the illusion of being even longer and sexier than they are.

"Good morning, Gamma Rhett," she chirps fondly but I'm no fool. I can hear the underlying meaning behind her words, and I spare her a brief look as I pass by. Her obvious reminder of what happened last night flashes in the depths of her heated gaze. Her body could probably stop a freight train in its tracks but all I see are the ruby-red painted lips. I know where those lips were last night.

"Morning, Miss Evans," I mumble in reply. I do not reciprocate the smile she's giving me, nor do I allow any sort of underlying meaning to infiltrate the same greeting I give her every day when I pass on by like she does to me.

Her eyes trail my every step, and she follows me around to the end of the counter. She'll try to intercept me at the elevator like always, but this morning I'm in no mood for her flirting.

I'm a man on a mission and I don't have time to play games. Maybe tonight...

"Any calls?" I snap. I don't worry about how my bark comes out; the lobby is quiet for the moment but in a few minutes, it'll be bustling with the usual employees and visitors like every other day before it. I already know the answer to my question. There are always calls. Her footsteps pause just like I hoped they would, and she's forced to turn back to her vacated seat to play the part of a front desk secretary.