#Chapter 106 Blame

Grace I stormed down the hall. As I entered the conference room, Eason had the nerve to not even look up as I entered. He was on the phone. There was a tiny fan on the table blowing at top speed at him as he talked. The cooler he'd been lugging around was sitting beside him. A frosty drink sat in front of him, half empty. Seeing him, I wondered how much of his fever was even real. Witches made all sorts of potions to do all sorts of things, and werewolves rarely got sick. I'd never heard of the shift making someone have a fever. Had he really shifted in that house? Had it all just been an act? I didn't know, but I was going to find out right now. "I'll get it over to the west team. Thanks, Frank." He hung up with another sigh, reaching into the cooler beside him. His hand was shaking as he pushed it through his hair. I locked the door behind him. "Something up?" Eason asked, grabbing a pen and starting to write. The phone started to ring again, and I shoved it away from hi