Chapter 250: Issues at work

Back home, Hazel slept till morning. When she woke up she prepared for work. She donned one of her favorite crisp red pant suits and ran a brush through her glossy chestnut tresses. By the time she appraised herself in the steamy mirror, Hazel saw only a shadow of the pale, drawn woman from the previous night. Today she looked every inch the consummate professional she used to be; sharp, confident, commanding. This was her armor, her personal suit of psychological mail that she would don to shield herself from the callous blows of this new, hazardous world. After locking up her fortress apartment, Hazel strode toward the lobby's exit with her head held high. Only to come up short at the sight of two conspicuously large men loitering by the front stoop. Her sense of triumphant poise wavered as their eyes tracked her emergence from the building, burnt umber irises devoid of expression. Marcus's sentinels were already in place, grim-faced and inescapable. "Ms. Greyson," one rumbled