SILVERTHORNE

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE WEST WING WHISPER

Amira didn't sleep. The anonymous message ‘I know the true source code’ burned into her vision. The phrase was a dagger, confirming the sender wasn't a corporate rival, but someone privy to her private auditing goals. Someone close.

The clock read 2:00 AM. The Alpha’s manor was cloaked in silence, the kind of deceptive stillness that meant all shifters were sleeping, or watching.

She dressed in black leggings and a heavy sweater, her movements silent, honed by years of living with secrets. Her hands trembled, but her wolf's instincts were sharp, urging caution and confrontation in equal measure.

The message had directed her to the abandoned West Wing. The same wing that had burned eighteen years ago. The same wing Korede had allegedly fled.

The air grew heavy with dust and stale fear as she approached the double doors. Her father had sealed this area after the fire, claiming reconstruction was disrespectful to the lost Heir. The Pack knew it was simply where the lies were loudest.

She slipped through the unlocked service door.

The change in atmosphere was immediate. The faint scent of smoke and wolfsbane faint, but unmistakable clung to the air, overlaid by a startling, fresh scent of ozone and powerful, untamed shifter musk.

Korede.

Amira froze, pressing herself against the cold, peeling wallpaper. He was here. He must be the sender, luring her into the mate bond's intense gravitational pull. But the message felt too specific, too threatening, to be mere seduction.

She moved deeper, navigating the shadows of the long hallway. Moonbeams cut through the gaps in the boarded windows, illuminating layers of ash and memory.

Then, she heard it: a low, rhythmic sound coming from the large, disused library at the end of the hall. It was the sound of something heavy being dragged, followed by a grunt of effort.

Heart pounding, Amira crept toward the library door. She pushed it open a crack and peered inside.

Korede was there.

He wasn't standing; he was on his knees, surrounded by piles of old, charred documents and broken ledger books. His tailored suit was gone, replaced by worn jeans and a damp T-shirt, highlighting the raw, corded strength of his shifter body.

He was frantically pulling heavy pieces of burnt shelving away from the back wall, revealing a large, rusted safe embedded in the stone. He was sweating, his eyes narrowed in absolute concentration.

Amira watched, confused. This wasn't the demeanor of a corporate rival seeking promotion; this was the desperate effort of a man looking for something he needed to survive.

A moment later, Korede froze. His head snapped up, his gaze fixing instantly on the sliver of space where Amira watched.

The shift was instantaneous. His eyes flared gold, and the air around him thickened with concentrated power. He hadn't seen her; he had scented her.

"Show yourself," he commanded, his voice a low, rough growl that resonated with the Authority of a dominant Beta.

Amira had no choice. She pushed the door open, stepping fully into the moonlight that washed over the room.

"You sent the message," she accused, trying to keep her own voice steady against the instinctive urge to submit to his shifter command.

Korede didn't deny it. He pushed himself to his feet, rising to his full, formidable height. The mate bond screamed between them, a terrifying combination of rage, fear, and undeniable attraction.

"What are you looking for, Korede?" she demanded. "And why use my compliance project's code word?"

He took a slow step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "I was looking for the truth you want to bury, Amira. The truth your father paid me to hide."

"My father told me you caused the fire."

Korede let out a humorless, choked sound that might have been a laugh. "The fire? That was a diversion. The real damage was done right here, eighteen years ago." He gestured to the safe. "This vault contains the original, un-audited financial ledger. The real 'source code.' If the board sees it, your father doesn't just lose his CEO title; he loses his Alpha rank."

Amira felt the floor shift beneath her. This was bigger than a board meeting; it was a coup.

"If you know this, why didn't you expose him at the meeting?"

A flicker of genuine pain crossed his face, a raw emotion that temporarily cut through the powerful shifter mask. "Because if that ledger comes out now, the board will look to me to stabilize the Pack. And I don't want it."

"You don't want power?"

"I don't want a crown built on another child's death," he corrected bitterly. "I came back to find proof that he stole the ledger, not that I killed your brother. Your father knows I didn't run from the fire; I ran to save the secret you're standing on."

Amira inhaled sharply, reeling from the weight of his confession. Before she could process the seismic shift in the story, Korede took another step, closing the distance between them.

"I need that ledger, Amira," he whispered, his eyes dark with intensity. "Help me open it. I know you're the only one who can."

Korede reached out, not to touch her, but to block her path, his scent overwhelming the air. As he stood there the dangerous, exiled mate who held the key to her family’s destruction.

The service door behind them suddenly slammed shut with a sickening, final sound. They were locked in. And a chilling, predatory voice echoed from the hallway: "No one leaves the West Wing until the truth is buried for good."