SILVERTHORNE

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOCKED IN SECRETS

The iron-clad service door didn't just close, it sealed with a finality that echoed through the hollowed-out corridors of the West Wing like a gavel striking a death sentence.

Amira stood paralyzed. The air in this part of the manor was different, heavier, thick with the particles of a tragedy that had never been allowed to settle. Eighteen years of dust sat undisturbed on the charred remains of the mahogany bookshelves, but beneath that layer of neglect was the unmistakable, sharp scent of High-Octane Sulfur. Yet she was locked in this decaying wing of the manor with her enemy the man who was her Fated Mate, while a silent assailant waited just outside the bolted door.

"We’re not just locked in," Amira whispered, her voice trembling despite her corporate training. "This is a clean-up operation."

Korede didn't answer immediately. He stood by the window, his silhouette massive against the silver moonlight. He looked less like a corporate rival and more like the predator he had been born to be. The Mate Bond between them, usually a dull ache in the back of her mind, was now a screaming siren. Being trapped in a confined space with him was like being locked in a cage with a thunderstorm.

"My father wouldn't..." she started, but the words died in her throat.

"Your father did it once," Korede said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "He sacrificed his own blood to save his balance sheet. Do you really think he’d hesitate to sacrifice a 'defective' heiress and an exiled ghost to keep his seat at the head of the table?"

Korede moved toward the wall, his fingers trailing over the soot stained wallpaper until he found the hidden indentation of the safe. This was the target. The Source Code.

"It’s a dual authentication biometric system," Korede explained, his eyes scanning the keypad with the intensity of a man looking for a way out of a burning building. "He updated the tech, but the logic is old-school Silverthorne. It requires the Managing Director and the Head of Finance. It was his way of ensuring that his two most vital lieutenants (the people who saw the numbers) were also his most loyal prisoners."

Amira stepped closer, the heat radiating from Korede making her skin prickle. "I’m the MD-Elect. You were the Head of Finance. He never removed your clearance?"

"In the eyes of the Pack, I’m dead or a traitor," Korede bit out. "But in the eyes of the corporate registry? Removing me would have triggered an automatic audit from the SEC. He kept me on the books as a 'silent partner' to keep the fraud hidden. His arrogance is our only key."

Korede pressed his thumb to the glass. A red light scanned his print. [ENTITY RECOGNIZED: K. SILVERTHORNE. STATUS: PENDING SECONDARY AUTHENTICATION.]

"Now you," he commanded.

Amira reached out, but her hand shook. If she did this, she was officially an accomplice to whatever Korede was planning. She was betraying her father. She was stepping into the wolf’s world.

"Amira," Korede growled, his hand catching hers. The contact was electric. It wasn't just a touch, it was a physical invasion of her senses. Images flashed through her mind, the two of them running through the forests they had never shared, a life where the boardrooms didn't exist. "The gas is already venting into the floorboards. We have three minutes before this wing becomes a crematorium. Choose. Now."

She pressed her hand to the scanner. The light turned amber. [SECONDARY AUTHENTICATION RECOGNIZED: A. SILVERTHORNE. ENTER VOCAL OVERRIDE.]

"The code," Korede whispered. "He used a mnemonic based on the heir's final words. Think, Amira. The night of the fire. What did he say before the smoke took him?"

Amira’s mind raced. She saw her brother, his face pale, clutching a ledger just like the one hidden in this wall. 'It’s not for us, Amira. It’s for them. Let the truth out.'

"Try: 'The truth will out'," she said.

Korede repeated the phrase.

[ACCESS DENIED. INCORRECT VOCAL PHRASE.]

A hissing sound began, faint, but deadly. The smell of gas was becoming overwhelming. Amira coughed, her lungs burning.

"Think!" Korede shouted over the sound of the venting gas. "He was a Silverthorne! He wouldn't be poetic. He would be proprietary!"

Amira focused on her brother’s voice, the way he sounded when he was playing with the Pack pups. He was proud. He was loyal. "He always talked about the Pack's voice. He said it was the only thing that mattered. Try: 'The Pack sings as one.'"

Korede spoke the words.

[ACCESS DENIED. FINAL ATTEMPT REMAINING.]

"We're going to die in here," Amira choked out, the tears stinging her eyes.

Korede grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were fully gold now, the wolf surfacing in the face of death. "Amira, look at me. Forget the MD title. Forget the law. Forget Tariq. Look at me. What did he say to us? To the two of us when we were kids?"

A memory, buried deep under layers of corporate decorum, surfaced. They were children, hiding under the very desk they were now leaning against. Her brother had looked at them and smiled. 'Don't worry. As long as the two of you are together, the fire can't touch you.'

"'Together, the fire cannot touch us,'" Amira whispered.

Korede repeated it, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw emotion.

[ACCESS GRANTED. OPENING VAULT.]

The heavy door groaned, the gears turning for the first time in nearly two decades. Inside, sitting atop a pile of burnt documents, was a leather-bound book with the Silverthorne seal.

Korede didn't waste a second. He grabbed the ledger and shoved it into Amira's hands. "Go. The ventilation tunnel behind the safe leads to the old servant quarters. It’s narrow, but you’re smaller. You can make it."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you," he lied. Amira could see it in the set of his jaw. He was going to stay to ensure the door didn't seal behind her.

She scrambled into the tunnel, the smell of gas now thick enough to taste. She crawled, her fingernails breaking against the cold stone, the ledger pressed against her chest like a shield.

She was halfway through when the explosion happened.

It wasn't a roar, it was a localized, concussive thud that shook the very foundations of the manor. Debris rained down on her. Dust blinded her.

"Korede!" she screamed, her voice muffled by the stone.

"Keep moving!" his voice came back, strained, sounding as if he were holding up the weight of the ceiling itself. "Amira, listen! It wasn't the Alpha who locked the door! I saw him through the crack in the jamb right before the spark hit! It was Jide! Uncle Jide is the one who triggered the gas!"

The tunnel collapsed behind her, a wall of stone cutting off his voice. Amira was alone in the dark, clutching the evidence that would either destroy her family or save her life.