10

IRIS’S POV

The secure vault was built for one purpose: to keep secrets.

It was a small, windowless room deep in the pack house basement. The walls were thick concrete, the door was heavy steel, and the air was cold and still. It was supposed to feel safe, but to me, it felt like a grave. Or maybe a cage.

Darius set the brittle ledger down on the small metal table in the center of the room. He didn't put the lock on the door yet, but the click of the heavy steel closing was loud enough to confirm our isolation.

"No noise in, no noise out," Darius murmured, his voice sounding deeper, richer in the confined space. "Two full days, Iris. Just you, me, and the numbers."

I swallowed hard, pulling the thick files toward me. I focused on the task, on the duty, trying to put a shield around my mind.

"We start with the North American shell accounts," I said, my voice thin but professional. "We have to transfer the remaining $75 million through the three European banks before dawn. It's the only clean route."

He didn't move to help. He simply pulled up the chair opposite me and watched. He didn't need to touch me to make me feel claimed. His presence alone filled the small vault, trapping my focus.

"Start the computers," he commanded, his voice low. "I'll verify the transfer codes. And Iris, take off that jacket."

I froze, clutching the sleeves of my suit jacket tighter. "It's cold in here, Alpha Wolfe."

"You're shaking," he agreed, his eyes raking over my face. "But not from the cold. That jacket holds your scent, Iris. It traps your anxiety. I need you focused, not fighting yourself."

He was demanding physical ease so that my mind could be clear for the impossible task, but the command felt like undressing. It was a power play.

I hesitated, but I couldn't argue. He had the power here. I slowly unbuttoned the jacket and slid it off, leaving me in just a thin silk blouse and skirt. The cold air instantly raised goosebumps on my skin.

"Better," Darius said, his gaze fixed on my throat. "Now, show me the Swiss codes."

I pulled up the encrypted file on the laptop, my fingers fumbling with the keys. For the next hour, we worked in tight, desperate silence. I entered the numbers, and he verified them. The tension was thick, hotter than the cold air.

He moved his chair, pulling it close beside mine. He was right against my shoulder, his Alpha scent a heavy, constant pressure against my senses.

"Code Four, account B-72," he dictated, leaning close to read the screen. His head was so close I could feel the stray strands of his dark hair brushing my cheek.

"B-72," I repeated, entering the long string of numbers.

The transfer went through. A wave of relief washed over me, but it was instantly replaced by a wave of pure, hot anxiety.

"Good girl," Darius whispered, the praise making my stomach clench. He didn't use the formal "Iris." He used the name from the dark, secret nights.

He leaned back, finally breaking the professional focus. His blue eyes were burning. "You're better than I thought. You handle the pressure well."

"I have to," I gasped, fighting the urge to lean into the warmth of his presence. "This is everything. If the feds find these accounts, Father loses everything."

"And I lose my entire alliance," he finished for me.

He reached out, his large, warm hand covering mine on the cold metal table. The contact was instant, electric, and utterly forbidden. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, holding me in place.

"We’re alone, Iris," he murmured, his gaze falling to my lips. "No elders, no guards, no Beta to judge. Just the two of us, locked away with our secrets."

My breath hitched. "We're here to work, Alpha Wolfe."

"We are working," he countered, his thumb stroking the back of my hand, sending fire up my arm. "This tension... this is the real work, isn't it? The real secret we're trying to keep locked away."

He released my hand and immediately stood up, pulling his own chair back. I thought he was giving me space, but instead, he walked around the table until he was standing directly behind me.

I froze, back ramrod straight. I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"The numbers are done for now," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "But my wolf is not. It’s been locked up and controlled for two days now, Iris. And you keep rubbing your scent all over the vault."

"I took off my jacket," I managed, my voice a painful squeak.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered, bending down so his mouth was right next to my ear. "You can't hide from me here. This vault only amplifies what is real."

His hand came up, settling heavily on my shoulder, massaging the tight, anxious muscles there. It was a soothing motion, but the hidden dominance was clear.

"You smell like fear and want," he whispered, his thumb pressing a spot on my neck that made my breath shudder. "Tell me you don't want me, Iris. Lie to me, and I'll believe it."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't form a single word. My body was betraying me, leaning slightly back into his touch, seeking the pressure.

"The lie won't come, will it?" he stated, his voice thick with triumph. He removed his hand from my shoulder, and my body instantly missed the weight.

Then, he reached down and hooked his fingers under the band of my skirt, pulling the fabric slightly away from my lower back. Just enough to let the cold air hit the small, sensitive skin there.

"You look so obedient, sitting here, working on your father's downfall," he murmured. "But I know what you are underneath. My slut."

He let go of the skirt and his hand slammed onto my thigh, flat and possessive, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Slowly. Turn around," he commanded, his voice switching to the sharp, dark tone I remembered from the illicit motel rooms. "Now."

My fingers clutched the edge of the metal table, but I obeyed instantly. I turned the office chair to face him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

His eyes, dark blue now, were fixed on my face, but his hand moved, sliding up my thigh, pushing the silk fabric of my skirt higher.

"You will not wear your father's secrets like a shield here," he growled. "You will be honest with me. You are mine, and you are locked in here until I say otherwise."

He was demanding submission, not just from my body, but from my spirit. He wanted me to admit the secret was more important than the duty.

His fingers found the edge of my silk panties and tugged, pulling them down only an inch. It was a cruel, teasing motion.

"Beg for the rest of the night off, whore," he ordered, his eyes never leaving mine. "Beg to be released from your duties, just for an hour."

My lips parted, but no sound came out. I could only stare at him, trapped, overwhelmed by the darkness and the power of his claim. I knew exactly what he was demanding. I had to choose him over the work. I had to choose the secret over the alliance.