[Cruz’s POV]
Cruz had been pacing the length of his office for the past thirty minutes, contemplating the same one-word question that continuously tortured him for the past several months. ‘Why?’
Why on earth had he been plagued with such incompetent wolves?
Why couldn’t a single one of them succeed in their orders to perform the simplest tasks?
Every time he’d sent the order for them to deal with Lorenzo Sinclair, they were never able to deliver.
When he tried to send the rogues to collect Eleanor—they failed.
Last night, he’d sent his band of misfits to snag the forensics report on Agatha Wilde, before the star-crossed lovers could get their hands on it. And, once again, his wolves had returned home, empty-handed.
Not a single one of them was able to look Cruz in the eyes and
