Chapter Three - He Pulled My File
1178 Words
— Damien —
Her file tells me almost everything.
Almost.
Maya Adkins. Twenty-five. Finance degree. Three years at a mid-level firm before Voss Industries. Spotless record. References that use words like exceptional and meticulous and the best we've ever had, which — given that she found a four-month-old discrepancy on her first day in three hours — I do not find surprising.
Previous address: Silverpine, Oregon.
I go still.
Silverpine.
I know that name. Every wolf with any connection to pack networks knows that name. Lucas Vane's territory. A mid-sized pack with a big reputation and an Alpha who runs his inner circle with the kind of ruthlessness that some people mistake for strength.
She came from Silverpine.
And she left.
I look at the hire date. Three years ago, which means she left Silverpine three years ago. Which means something happened three years ago that made her drive away from her pack and her home and everything she knew and start over in a city where no one knew her name.
I think about the way she looked at me.
That split second of recognition — and then the walls. Fast. Total. Like someone who had learned the hard way that bonds come with conditions attached.
"Marcus," I say.
He appeared immediately. He always does.
"What do you know about Silverpine Pack?"
A pause. "Lucas Vane's territory. Northern Oregon. Solid pack, strong bloodlines. Vane has been Alpha for about six years. There were some rumors a few years back. About the mate ceremony." He chooses his next words carefully. "About a rejection."
Something cold moves through me.
"A public rejection?"
"I believe so, sir. I don't have specifics."
"Find them."
"Of course." He pauses again. "Is there anything else?"
I look at the file. At the previous address. At the date of hiring. At the reconciliation note, she logged at 4:47 p.m. on her first day — detailed, precise, three pages of cross-referenced documentation for a discrepancy that should have been caught months ago.
"No," I say. "That's all."
He leaves.
I sat with the file for a long time.
Lucas Vane rejected his fated mate.
Publicly.
And she drove south and spent three years becoming the most precise, most meticulous, most quietly exceptional analyst to walk into this building.
I think about what that costs.
Building yourself into someone unbreakable because someone else decided you weren't worth keeping.
The cold feeling doesn't go away.
It gets sharper.
I close the file.
I opened the Meridian account.
And I sent her a message, because it is a legitimate business reason to make contact, and I am being completely professional about this.
I am absolutely being professional.
* * *
Her reply comes in under a minute.
I already found one in the standard reconciliation file. Your previous analyst was missing them for months. — M.A.
I read it twice.
No softening. No performance. Just a fact, stated plainly, by someone who has spent three years making her competence so undeniable that no one can ever call it into question.
I reply.
I know. I've been watching the system. Which is exactly why I assigned you to Meridian. — D.V.
I set the phone down.
I pick it up again.
I set it down.
Marcus appears in the doorway with the expression he wears when he is about to say something I am not going to enjoy.
"The Meridian partners are asking about tomorrow's meeting."
"Confirm it."
"And—" he hesitates. "There was a call. From Silverpine. A man named Lucas Vane. He says he has a business matter to discuss."
Every muscle in my body goes tight.
"I am not available," I say.
"He was quite insistent. He said it was regarding—"
"Marcus." My voice is very quiet. He has worked for me long enough to know what that means. "I am not available. Today, tomorrow, or at any point in the foreseeable future. Is that clear?"
A pause.
"Clear, sir."
He leaves again.
I stand at the window.
Twenty-two floors below me, my mate is packing up her desk for the night, and her former Alpha is already making phone calls.
He heard about her.
Of course, he heard about her. News travels fast in the pack world, and Maya Adkins joining the company of the most powerful Alpha-turned-CEO in the country is exactly the kind of news that travels.
I think about what he said, apparently.
A business matter.
Three years later, he has decided there is a business matter.
Interesting timing.
* * *
I am still at the window when my phone buzzes again.
Not the internal system this time.
My personal number.
Unknown caller. Oregon area code.
I answer.
"Voss," I say.
A pause. Then a voice — smooth, careful, the practiced authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
"Mr. Voss. My name is Lucas Vane. I believe we have something to discuss."
"I believe my assistant told you I was unavailable."
"He did," Lucas says. "I apologize for the direct call. But this is — personal."
"I don't take personal calls from people I've never met, Mr. Vane."
Another pause. Longer.
"You've met her," he says finally. "Maya. I know she's working for you now. I just want — I need to know she's all right."
Something about the way he says it.
Too smooth. Too careful.
Like a man who has rehearsed this.
"Ms. Adkins is an employee of Voss Industries," I say. "Her well-being is this company's concern, not yours. If you have any further questions about her, I suggest you address them to her directly — if she wishes to hear from you." I pause. "Which, based on the information available to me, seems unlikely."
Silence.
"I see," Lucas says. His voice has changed. The smoothness has an edge to it now. "You're protecting her."
"I'm ending this call," I say. "Don't contact this number again."
I hang up.
I stood at the window for a long time.
Twenty-two floors below, the city moves in its evening way — lights coming on, people going home, the ordinary end of an ordinary Tuesday.
Nothing about today has been ordinary.
My mate walked through the wrong door this morning, felt a bond she clearly wants nothing to do with, went downstairs, and found a four-month-old discrepancy in three hours, exchanged exactly two messages with me that told me more about her than her entire file did — and her former Alpha called me within twelve hours of her first day.
I look at the city.
I think about a woman driving south at three in the morning with one bag and a decision.
I think about what she built.
And I think about the fact that Lucas Vane clearly believes he still has some claim to it.
He is wrong.
He is going to discover exactly how wrong.
But not because I decided it.
She is going to discover it herself.
I am just going to make sure nothing gets in her way while she does.
- Writer
