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snarling. His face turned hairy.
    “You calling me a thief?” he growled.
    Marcus leaped to his feet and was standing between them in less than a second.
    “If the shoe fits.” Marcus gritted the words out between his teeth. “You wanna throw down? Because you’ll be challenging me, not him. But I’m gonna be a nice guy and let you call your loved ones to say goodbye first. Oh wait, you don’t have any.”
    Samuel stepped back, his eyes wide. He was a good kid, mild-mannered, hated conflict – and Marcus shouldn’t be acting like this in front of him, but he couldn’t help himself.
    Zeke leaped to his feet. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “Nobody called you a thief.”
    He glanced over at Harry, the site project manager, a human who was already less than thrilled with Marcus and his frequent outbursts.
    Harry was talking to some other pack members and not paying attention to them. Yet.
    “You think I’m scared of you?” Casper snapped at Marcus, but he’d turned a shade paler. “I’m not a thief, and anyone who calls me one is going to pay for it.”
    “If by ‘pay for it’ you mean take you out, that’s what’s gonna happen. What are you waiting for?” Marcus’ fangs descended and the bones in his face shifted. He could feel his skin melting away under the fur.
    “It’s okay. It’s okay. Marcus, it’s fine,” Samuel said pleadingly. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. He can have the toolbox.”
    “It’s not your toolbox!” Casper snapped, fists balled, glaring all around him.
    Damien picked up the box and looked at it. “Uh, Casper, this actually is Samuel’s toolbox,” he said. “I’m sure it was a mistake.” Damien always seemed to end up acting as peacemaker between Marcus and Casper, who just rubbed each other the wrong way.
    “So?” Casper growled in his thick Texas accent. “Grabbed the wrong toolbox. No reason to call me a crook.”
    “Why don’t you both apologize to each other and we’ll call it even?” Zeke glanced at Harry again, then back at Marcus, his meaning clear. Don’t cause any more trouble .
    Damien handed the toolbox to Samuel. Casper glowered at Marcus.
    Marcus fixed Casper with a cold, hard look. “You even look at Samuel wrong again, I’ll separate your head from your body. You think you’re a big man? You like to scare cubs? Let’s settle this now.”
    “I forbid it!” Zeke yelled furiously. He was the pack beta, and going against his word was like going against Roman’s word. “We are not going to throw down over a stupid misunderstanding!”
    Harry was definitely watching them now.
    Marcus stared at Casper for a long, long moment. Damien was patting Casper on the arm, talking to him in low, urgent tones.
    Finally Casper turned and stalked off, swearing loudly and kicking a garbage can as he walked by it.
    Funny thing was, Damien and Zeke had just saved Casper’s life by intervening, and everybody there knew it. Wolves had a hierarchy. So did wolf shifters. They could sense who was top dog, who would win against whom in a fight. In some cases, it was closely matched. In the case of Marcus…he could take out any person in their pack except for Roman. That would be a close call, but Roman would probably win.
    Samuel would be at the very bottom of the hierarchy, Marcus knew. He’d probably never even gotten in a fight.
    With his physical prowess, Marcus had the right to be beta, but nobody would even dream of suggesting it to him. The beta had to have social skills. Marcus did not have social skills. Marcus spent the better part of each day trying not to kill people for saying hello to him.
    Casper was plenty scarred up, like Marcus was. So he’d been in fights before, and had won. But he wouldn’t be a match for Marcus. Casper just happened to have the type of aggressive, obnoxious personality that was going to get him killed sooner or later, because he didn’t know when to back down from a fight. It was no surprise