Chapter 7-2
720 Words
The recording ended.
Warmth flooded through me—instant, overwhelming—melting away the ice that had been coiling around my limbs for hours.
Ronald loved me. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just buying flowers for his wife.
And beneath the relief, a flicker of shame: how easily I'd let the pressure of three Alpha brothers circling like wolves around a kill make me doubt the man I'd married.
I lifted my phone with a smile that was equal parts victory and challenge. "See? I told you. Ronald isn't the kind of man who betrays his marriage."
Damian didn't glance at the screen. He scoffed. "That's not devotion. That's a rehearsed line. A distraction tactic. Nothing more."
The warmth evaporated. Hot, defensive fury took its place.
"Not everything is a conspiracy, Mr. Voss. Just because you're trapped in a loveless engagement with a woman who treats you like an ATM doesn't mean the rest of us are faking it." My voice climbed before I could rein it in. "You're jealous. Admit it."
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Damian turned—slowly, deliberately—and the raw dominance rolling off him was enough to buckle weaker wolves at the knees. "Watch your mouth. My instincts have never been wrong."
But I held his gaze without flinching.
"Enough." Damon's voice cut between us, clean and final. He stepped into the gap, then looped a casual arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the couch. The gesture was easy, natural—and far too warm for a man I was supposed to distrust.
I caught the briefest stiffness in Darius's frame as I settled beside him. Something electric flickered between us—gone before I could name it.
Damon continued, calm, measured. "Presumption of innocence, Damian. We operate on evidence, not your gut." He shot me a steadying look. "It's day one. Kate's a partner, not your enemy. Apologize."
Damian's jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might c***k. The silence stretched—taut, suffocating—before he finally spoke through gritted teeth:
"Fine. I apologize for the assumption."
I blinked. "...Thank you."
"However."
A low, rough voice sliced through the fragile calm.
Every head turned toward Darius. His fingers hadn't stopped moving across his keyboard, but now he looked up—and when those eyes locked onto mine, it felt like being sighted through a scope.
"There's an inconsistency." One long finger pointed to the timestamp on the third monitor. "He took the photo at 7:20."
Darius leaned toward me—his broad frame eclipsing mine, close enough that I caught cedar and gunpowder and something underneath that made my breath hitch.
"When did you receive the message?" he asked.
I checked the screen. "7:24."
"Four minutes." His tone was flat, but the precision behind it cut through every defense I had left. "Average time to snap a photo, select a contact, and send: six seconds. Recording that voice note? Twenty seconds. One minute, total. Being generous."
He tilted his head. Those unblinking eyes held me until I had nowhere left to hide.
"Kate. What was your husband doing with that photo for the remaining three minutes?" A beat. "My guess—you weren't the first person he sent it to."
"That's ridiculous." My voice cracked. "The Wi-Fi could've been spotty. He could've been editing—"
"We don't need to guess." Damon's voice dropped an octave, shifting into something low and predatory—closer to Damian's register than his own. He leaned in from my right, and between him and Darius, I was bracketed—surrounded by warmth and authority and the faintest pull of something I refused to acknowledge.
"That's the beauty of a high-end surveillance system," he murmured. "We can always take a closer look."
He pressed play.
The footage rewound, slowed to half speed. Ronald's movements unspooled frame by frame—
But his back stayed to the camera. Every angle. Every second.
Whatever he'd done with those three minutes was hidden behind the wall of his own shoulders.
Damian turned from the screen. His eyes found mine—and this time, there was no mockery in them. Just a cold, quiet certainty that settled over me like a verdict.
"Something happened off-screen," he said softly. "And we're going to find out what."
- Writer
