Seraphina paced back and forth across her large office, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Her face was flushed with fury, her lips pressed into a hard line as her mind replayed the wolf boy's report over and over. Each detail gnawed at her like a festering wound: Ryker holding Aiden by the waist, Ryker touching Aiden's face, Ryker refusing to let him go. The image of it was enough to make her stomach twist and her nails dig crescents into her palms.
After ranting aloud to no one for several minutes, she finally forced herself to stop. Her breathing came in short, angry bursts, but she inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and sat down behind her desk. Losing her temper here would achieve nothing.
What she needed was a plan.
