Chapter Seven: The Message on the Dead Man’s Phone

The police arrived three minutes later.

By then, the underground garage had become a sealed crime scene.

Uniformed officers blocked every exit. Forensic technicians photographed the body, the access card, and the shattered evidence near Elevator Three. No one was allowed to leave, not even the board members who had spent the last ten minutes demanding special treatment.

Chairman Hale stood near the security barrier, speaking quietly to a detective with a silver badge pinned to his coat.

He looked composed.

Too composed.

I watched him from beside a concrete pillar while Ronan stood close enough to shield our conversation from the cameras.

“Destroy you before you discover why Helix wanted you alive,” I repeated.

The sentence sounded no less disturbing the second time.

Ronan kept his eyes on the officers surrounding Elias Mercer’s body.

“The message said Vale would take the blame.”

“That could mean my family.”

“It could.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“No.”

I looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because your access card was placed beneath the body. Your office was attacked. Your medication was sabotaged. Whoever planned this didn’t target Silverfang as a whole.”

His pale eyes shifted toward me.

“They targeted you.”

A cold pressure settled in my chest.

“Then why would Helix want me alive?”

“That is what Elias may have been trying to tell us.”

I glanced toward the dead man’s phone, now sealed inside an evidence bag.

“The police have it.”

“Not everything on it.”

Ronan reached into his pocket and removed his own phone.

A photograph filled the screen.

The message.

Payment confirmed. Vale will take the blame.

Beneath it was the private number that had sent it.

“You photographed evidence at a murder scene?” I asked.

“I photographed a screen before someone decided it should disappear.”

“You assume the police are compromised.”

“I assume anyone can be compromised.”

He enlarged the number.

“It is masked, but not perfectly.”

“You can trace it?”

“Not directly.”

“Then what good is it?”

His mouth curved faintly.

“You really do become unpleasant when frightened.”

“I am not frightened.”

“Your scent says otherwise.”

The words struck harder than they should have.

My blocker had failed. The aerosol still burned beneath my skin, and the suppressant remained unusable.

Ronan could smell every reaction I was trying to hide.

I lowered my voice.

“Do not mention my scent again.”

“Then stop pretending it is not affecting you.”

“It is under control.”

Another pulse of heat moved through me as if my body had chosen that moment to expose the lie.

My fingers tightened around the edge of my jacket.

Ronan noticed.

Of course he did.

His expression changed, the mockery disappearing.

“How much longer?”

“I do not know.”

“That is not an acceptable answer.”

“It is the only one I have.”

He glanced toward the officers.

“We need to get you out of here.”

“We are being detained.”

“We are being questioned.”

“That usually happens after someone finds your identification beneath a corpse.”

“You did not kill him.”

“I am aware.”

“The police may not be.”

Before I could respond, a woman in a dark coat crossed the barrier and approached us.

She was tall, with closely cropped black hair and the controlled posture of someone accustomed to being obeyed. The silver badge at her waist identified her as Chief Inspector Mara Voss.

Her eyes moved from me to Ronan.

“Chairman Vale. Mr. Ashcroft.”

Neither of us answered.

She stopped in front of me.

“I need to ask you several questions.”

“Ask.”

“Privately.”

Ronan remained where he was.

Inspector Voss looked at him.

“This does not concern you.”

“It concerns me if you intend to accuse him without counsel.”

“I did not realize you were his counsel.”

“I am not.”

“Then step away.”

Ronan smiled without warmth.

“No.”

The inspector studied him for a moment, then turned back to me.

“Your access card was found beneath the victim.”

“So I have been told.”

“When did you last possess it?”

“This morning.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

“My assistant.”

Marcus stood several meters away with two officers. At the sound of his name, he looked toward us.

Voss continued.

“Were you acquainted with Elias Mercer?”

“No.”

“Had you met him before today?”

“Not knowingly.”

“Did you communicate with him?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps you can explain why he called your private number seven times in the last two weeks.”

The garage seemed to tilt.

I stared at her.

“That is impossible.”

She removed a small tablet from her coat and displayed a call record.

My number appeared beside Elias Mercer’s name.

Seven outgoing calls.

None answered.

The dates stretched across fourteen days.

I recognized the number immediately.

It was not my company line.

It was the private phone used only by my family, Marcus, and my physician.

“I never received those calls,” I said.

Voss watched my face carefully.

“Do you deny this is your number?”

“No.”

“Do you deny speaking to him?”

“Yes.”

“Then someone accessed your phone records.”

“Or forged them,” Ronan said.

The inspector did not look at him.

“Mr. Ashcroft, interrupt me again and I will have you removed.”

“You would need officers willing to try.”

Several nearby policemen shifted uneasily.

I gave Ronan a warning look.

He ignored it.

Voss shut off the tablet.

“Chairman Vale, until we verify your statement, you are not permitted to leave the building.”

“I understand.”

“Your office will be searched.”

“No.”

Her expression hardened.

“That was not a request.”

“My office contains confidential Silverfang documents unrelated to this investigation.”

“A man is dead.”

“And someone has already entered that office once tonight.”

For the first time, a flicker of interest appeared in her eyes.

“Explain.”

I told her about the intruder, the stolen report, the disabled power, and the aerosol capsule.

I did not mention the suppressants.

I did not mention my heat.

I did not mention what I was.

Ronan remained silent throughout, but I felt his attention on every word.

When I finished, Voss looked toward my office floor.

“Was anything else taken?”

“An executive access card.”

She glanced at the evidence bag near the body.

“How convenient.”

Anger sharpened my voice.

“Do you believe I planted my own card beneath a man I supposedly murdered?”

“I believe people create complicated stories when simple ones make them guilty.”

Ronan stepped forward.

“And intelligent investigators look for evidence before deciding which story they prefer.”

Voss met his gaze.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then a young officer hurried toward us.

“Inspector.”

He handed her another tablet.

“We accessed the victim’s cloud backup.”

Her eyes moved across the screen.

Something changed in her face.

“What did you find?” I asked.

She did not answer immediately.

Instead, she opened a recovered audio file.

Static filled the speaker.

Then Elias Mercer’s voice emerged, strained and breathless.

“If anything happens to me, do not trust the Helix board.”

A pause followed.

Heavy breathing.

Then his voice returned, quieter.

“Find Adrian Vale. He is not what they say he is.”

Every muscle in my body locked.

Ronan turned toward me.

The recording continued.

“He was never meant to become an Alpha.”

The audio ended.

No one spoke.

Inspector Voss slowly lifted her eyes to mine.

“What exactly did Elias Mercer know about you?”