The door to the conference room slammed shut behind Edward McCullen as he strode out, his stride long and urgent, the thunder of his polished shoes echoing through the marble-floored corridor.
His jaw was tight. His hands trembled at his sides, barely concealed by the controlled rigidity of his movement.
The security liaison walking beside him didn't say a word, simply guided him down the hall toward his office with urgency.
When they reached the glass double doors, Edward didn't pause. He shoved them open.
Inside, five men stood waiting. His elite investigative team were all standing like soldiers around his desk, eyes grim, postures stiff.
The team leader — a tall, wiry man with pale eyes and a military-cut haircut — turned toward him with a smile that didn't quite reach his face.
Edward's gut tightened.
A smile wasn't always good news.
"Sit," the man said politely, gesturing toward Edward's own chair like he was a guest in his own office.
Edward said nothing. He sat.
