Beneath the Tailored Lie

The First Warning

The elevator ride down feels longer than it should.

Too quiet.

Too confined.

By the time the doors slide open into the underground garage, my pulse still hasn’t settled. Ronan’s words cling to me like fingerprints beneath my skin.

You’re going to hand it back signed.

The worst part is that somewhere beneath the panic, beneath the anger and adrenaline, I believe him.

Rain hits cold against my face the second I step outside. The city glows silver beneath the storm, headlights streaking across wet pavement while thunder rumbles somewhere high above the skyline.

I should feel relieved to be leaving.

Instead, it feels strangely like retreat.

A black sedan pulls smoothly to the curb beside me.

The driver steps out immediately, umbrella already open. “Miss Bennett,” he says respectfully as he opens the back door. “Mr. Voss asked me to get you home safely.”

Of course he did.

Because apparently Ronan Voss plans for everything.

I hesitate only a second before sliding into the backseat. Rainwater drips from my coat sleeves onto the leather while the driver closes the door behind me and pulls away from the building.

The warmth inside the car should calm me.

It doesn’t.

The city blurs outside the tinted windows as we merge into traffic, neon reflecting across rain-slick streets in fractured streaks of gold and white.

Then my phone vibrates.

Unknown Number.

My stomach tightens instantly.

For one reckless second, I think it’s Ronan.

But when I answer, the voice on the other end belongs to someone else entirely.

“Miss Bennett?”

Low. Male. Controlled.

I straighten slightly. “Who is this?”

A pause.

“My name is Elias Mercer.”

The name means nothing to me.

“I work with Ronan Voss.”

Not for.

With.

The distinction lands immediately.

Rain taps softly against the windows while silence stretches between us.

“What do you want?” I ask carefully.

Another pause.

Then, “I think you should reconsider signing that contract.”

Every muscle in my body tightens.

Outside, headlights smear across wet pavement while the car turns onto the freeway.

“Why?”

Elias exhales softly, almost thoughtful.

“Because men like Ronan don’t offer contracts unless they already believe the outcome belongs to them.”

A chill crawls slowly down my spine.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” he says calmly, “that by the time you realize how deep you are, it’s already too late to leave.”

Something about the certainty in his voice unsettles me instantly.

I glance toward the driver instinctively before lowering mine.

“If this is some kind of warning, you’re being intentionally vague.”

“That’s because if I told you the truth outright, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Lightning flashes somewhere over the city.

The inside of the car glows white for half a second before darkness settles again.

“You sound like you know him well.”

Another pause.

Too long.

“I know exactly what Ronan Voss is capable of.”

The words settle heavily in my chest.

“He’s dangerous,” Elias continues quietly. “Not because he’s violent. Not because he’s powerful.” His voice lowers further. “Because once he decides something belongs to him, he stops seeing people as separate from himself.”

My throat tightens.

Against my will, I remember the way Ronan touched my jaw upstairs.

Careful.

Restrained.

Like he was holding himself back with both hands.

“You make him sound obsessed.”

A quiet laugh slips through the line.

Not amused.

Almost dark.

“You still think this is about obsession?” Elias asks softly.

A chill moves down my spine.

“Then what is it about?”

The rain intensifies against the windows, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance.

Elias is silent for a second before answering.

“Control.”

The word lands heavily between us.

“He’ll let you think you’re choosing him,” Elias continues calmly. “That’s what makes Ronan dangerous. He never has to force people to stay.” His voice lowers slightly. “By the time they realize how far into his world they’ve gone, leaving him feels worse than losing themselves.”

My throat tightens.

Something cold slides down my spine.

Because there’s no mistaking what he’s implying.

Violence.

Danger.

Blood.

And yet something feels off.

Not the warning itself.

The way he gives it.

Too measured.

Too deliberate.

Like every word is being chosen carefully for maximum damage.

“You don’t sound concerned for me,” I say slowly.

Another small silence.

Then Elias chuckles quietly.

And suddenly the sound is colder than before.

“Maybe I just enjoy seeing Ronan Voss lose control.”

The words hit harder than they should.

Before I can respond, he continues smoothly, “Ask him about Evelyn, Miss Bennett.”

The name drops into the silence like a blade.

“Who’s Evelyn?”

But Elias ignores the question completely.

“Be careful,” he says softly. “Men like Ronan don’t destroy the things they want.”

A pause.

“They destroy anyone who stands between them and those things.”

Then the line goes dead.

I stare at the dark screen in my hand while rain streaks down the windows beside me.

And for the first time since meeting Ronan, fear twists together with something far more dangerous.

Curiosity.

Because Elias Mercer sounded convincing.

Concerned, even.

But beneath his calm voice, beneath the carefully chosen warnings, I caught something else right at the end.

Hatred.

And somehow that terrifies me almost as much as Ronan does.