“Your behavior doesn’t match a killer’s profile. If you were a Crown Mountain mercenary, you wouldn’t have risked yourself to save me from that ambush.”
Dom’s throat tightened with an emotion he couldn’t name. The sex had done more than satisfy their mutual need; it had opened her mind to possibilities beyond her initial suspicion.
“I was thinking about the emergency response delays you mentioned yesterday,” Dom said quietly. “If it was an inside job, that’s county-level access.”
“Or higher.” Valeria pushed herself up on one elbow, cop instincts fully engaged now. “The delays were systematic across multiple agencies. Fire, police, medical, environmental response. Someone was orchestrating coordination failures.”
“Which explains why Becca was so scared,” Dom said. “She didn’t just discover criminal activity. She discovered official corruption at the highest levels.”
They lay quietly for several minutes, both processing the scope of what they were facing. This wasn’t just about solving Becca’s murder anymore. They were looking at a conspiracy that reached into the heart of local government.
“The real killers are still out there,” Valeria said. “Still active. Still dangerous.”
“They targeted you yesterday. They were probably listening to real-time encrypted police scanners, or they’re inside the department. Which is why you’re staying close to me until this is resolved,” Dom said. “No more solo investigations. No more unnecessary risks.”
“What about my family?” Valeria asked. “The department will be looking for me. I left my cruiser at the scene.”
“We’ll contact your father when it’s safe,” Dom said firmly. “Through secure channels, with limited information.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. His mate was safe and willing to work with him instead of against him. The investigation could proceed with cooperation instead of conflict.
Chapter
Seventeen
Valeria slipped outof Dom’s arms. Her body protested the movement. She ached in ways that reminded her exactly what they’d done together. But underneath the soreness was a deep satisfaction.
She stood beside the narrow bed and reached for the discarded sweatsuit. Dom watched her from the bed, his blue eyes tracking her movements. Valeria pulled on the oversized sweatshirt. Her mind felt clear for the first time since this nightmare began. No fog of terror clouding her judgment. No hypervigilance scanning for threats. Just calm, rational thought processes that let her think like a police officer again instead of a victim.
The encrypted radio on the bedside table crackled to life, and Dom reached for it. “Alpha here.”
Valeria moved toward the kitchenette, pretending to focus on finding breakfast supplies while her enhanced shifter hearing picked up every word of the conversation. Her bear senses were fully functional now, no longer suppressed by Dom’s alpha dominance.
“Status report,” came a male voice she didn’t recognize.
“Secure. Package cooperating,” Dom replied.
“Need extraction?”
“Negative. Maintaining position.”
Dom ended the call and set the radio aside. Valeria pulled the coffee from the cabinet and started measuring grounds into the coffee maker.
“How long do we have to stay here?” she asked, filling the pot with water.
“As long as we need to,” Dom replied, watching her start the coffee.
“That’s not an answer.” She turned to the small refrigerator, finding eggs and bread. “Is this place yours or the pack’s?”
“It belongs to the pack, through an investment fund that can’t be traced back to us. Set it up when we first got to town as a fallback position.”
“So, you’ve been preparing for something like this since day one.” She cracked eggs into a bowl, beating them with more force than necessary. “How many other safe houses do you have?”
“Just this one. But I can quickly arrange more if this one’s compromised.” Dom studied her tense shoulders. “What’s really bothering you?”
Valeria gripped the fork tighter, still whisking the eggs. “These four walls. One window. Barely any daylight.” She gestured at the small window. “I feel like I’m in a cage.”
She coated bread slices with the egg mixture and heated a pan on the small stove. The sizzle as she dropped in the first piece of French toast filled the tense silence.
