Unlikely

I didn't take a cab back to the office. I walked.

I needed the cold Seattle drizzle to cool the heat blazing on my cheeks. A pet. The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated arrogance.

I stormed through the revolving doors of Cohen Enterprises, ignoring the startled look of the security guard, and marched straight to the elevators. My new boots clicked a furious rhythm on the marble floors, a sharp, aggressive sound that matched my mood perfectly.

When I reached the fifteenth floor, it was nearly empty. The admin staff had gone home for the day, leaving the office in a state of humming silence. Mrs. Vance’s office door was closed, the blinds drawn.

Good.

I threw my bag onto my desk in the glass fishbowl they called an office and sat down. My hands were shaking, not from cold, but from adrenaline.

"Focus, Maya," I hissed to myself. "Forget the eyes. Forget the steak. Forget the blonde ice queen. Follow the money."

I opened my laptop and dove back into the data. Levi had said to look for what Mrs. Vance was hiding. He said to ignore the "pack."

I pulled up the vendor list again. I went back to the "Moon-Phase LLC" account. I had flagged it earlier, but Mrs. Vance had dismissed it as a holding company for real estate assets.

I started cross-referencing the transaction dates.

June 14th: $250,000 transfer. July 12th: $250,000 transfer. August 10th: $250,000 transfer.

It was rhythmic. Monthly. But it wasn't going to a bank. It was being routed through a digital currency exchange based in the Cayman Islands, then bounced back to a private account in...

I squinted at the screen.

Juneau, Alaska.

Seraphina had mentioned the "Northern Territory" at lunch. The Council was asking about it.

I started digging into the metadata of the invoices. They were sloppy. Whoever was cooking the books assumed no one would look this deep into a sub-ledger. I found a purchase order attached to one of the payments.

It wasn't for real estate. It wasn't for security.

It was for Silver Nitrate. Industrial quantities.

I sat back, blinking. Why would an investment firm need enough silver nitrate to poison a small reservoir?

I checked the time. 9:45 PM.

I needed to save this locally. If Mrs. Vance saw I was accessing these files, she’d lock me out. I pulled a flash drive from my purse, a habit from my days of auditing shady startups and began copying the raw data.

The progress bar crawled. 50%... 70%...

Ding.

The elevator chime echoed through the silent floor.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse.

Heavy footsteps approached. Slow. Deliberate. They weren't the clicking heels of Mrs. Vance or the shuffling of the janitorial staff. These were heavy boots, moving with predatory stealth.

I yanked the flash drive out at 98%, shoving it into my bra, the only place I knew wouldn't be searched if my bag was checked.

"Working late, Miss Brooks?"

I spun my chair around.

Levi Cohen was leaning against the doorframe of my glass office. He had ditched the suit jacket and tie. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top three buttons, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair.

He looked tired. And angry.

"I have a deadline," I said, my voice sounding braver than I felt. "And your CFO isn't making it easy."

"Isla is difficult," he agreed, walking into the small room. The space instantly felt too small. He sucked all the oxygen out of the air. "You left lunch."

"I was dismissed," I said coldly. "By your... associate."

"Seraphina does not speak for me." Levi stopped in front of my desk, placing his hands on the surface and leaning down until we were eye-level. "And she is not my associate. She is a headache I inherited from my father."

"She called me a pet."

Levi’s jaw tightened. A muscle feathered in his cheek. "She won't do it again. I made that very clear after you left."

"I don't need you to fight my battles, Levi. I need access to the Alaska accounts."

The change in his demeanor was instant. The romantic tension vanished, replaced by a razor-sharp alertness. His pupils dilated, the amber iris almost swallowed by black.

"Alaska?" his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

"I found transfers. Monthly. To a shell company in Juneau. They're buying silver, Levi. A lot of it."

Levi stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. He paced the small length of the office, radiating a terrifying energy. He looked like a caged animal.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Isla. I knew she was incompetent, but I didn't think she was a traitor."

"Traitor?" I asked. "Is that what we call embezzlement now?"

Levi stopped pacing and looked at me. "You have the proof?"

"I have the data."

"Where?"

I hesitated. "Safe."

He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Smart girl." He checked his watch. "Pack your things. We're leaving."

"I'm going back to my hotel," I said, reaching for my bag.

"No, you're not. The hotel isn't secure. If you found the Alaska trail, Isla knows you found it. Her system flags access to those accounts."

"So? I'm the auditor. It's my job."

"You don't understand, Maya." Levi walked around the desk, grabbing my arm. His grip was firm but gentle, his hand burning hot through my silk sleeve. "These people... they don't fire auditors who find things they shouldn't. They silence them."

My scar gave a violent throb, sending a jolt of pain down my arm. I gasped, stumbling slightly.

Levi caught me instantly, pulling me against his chest. "You're hurting."

"It's fine," I winced, trying to pull away. "Just a cramp."

"Liar." He lowered his head, inhaling deeply near my neck. "It burns, doesn't it? The mark."

I froze. "How do you know about the mark?"

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. They were sad, ancient, and filled with a longing that terrified me.

"Because I felt it too," he whispered.

Before I could ask what the hell he meant, he grabbed my bag with his free hand.

"Come with me. Now."

"Where are we going?"

"My place," he said, guiding me forcefully toward the elevators. "We need to discuss what you found. And I can't do it here. The walls have ears, and right now, half of them belong to people who want to tear my throat out."

"That sounds like a metaphor."

"It's not," he said grimly as the elevator doors slid open.

We stepped inside. The ride down was silent, thick with tension. I stood in the corner, clutching my trench coat. Levi stood in front of the doors, his body angled to shield me, scanning the numbers as they ticked down.

When we reached the lobby, Eric was waiting with the Maybach right at the glass doors.

"Straight to the penthouse, Eric," Levi commanded as we exited the building. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and black. "Take the long route. Make sure we aren't followed."

"Followed?" I squeaked as I was ushered into the back seat. "Levi, seriously, are we talking about corporate espionage or the mafia?"

Levi slid in next to me, the door thudding shut with a heavy, secure seal. He turned to me, his face illuminated by the passing streetlights.

"Something like that," he said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope I had left at the restaurant—the check. He held it up.

"I told you," I started.

"Take it," he said.

"No."

"Maya, take the damn check." He shoved it into my hand. "You're going to need your money. If Isla made the purchase orders I think she made, this audit just turned into a war."

"A war over silver?"

"Silver," Levi said, looking out the window, his voice hollow, "is the only thing that can kill us."

"Us?"

He turned back to me, and for a second, in the flash of a lightning, his eyes flashed fully gold.

"The wolves," he said. "We're going to my home, Maya. And I'm going to make you dinner. And then... I'm going to tell you the truth about why you survived that bite six months ago."