Chapter Thirty-Nine — I Slapped an Alpha Heir

The message on my phone should have embarrassed me.

Instead, it made me furious.

YOU ARE MAKING THIS EASIER THAN WE EXPECTED.

I stared at the screen until the words blurred.

Ronan stood beside me beneath the loading bay roof while rain fell beyond us in silver sheets. The kiss had ended less than a minute ago, and Cradle had already turned it into data.

Voluntary contact confirmed.

Bonding phase advanced.

They had taken something I chose and tried to make it theirs.

I hated them for that.

I hated Ronan slightly for being there.

Mostly, I hated myself for allowing the message to ruin the one moment tonight that had actually belonged to me.

Ronan took the phone from my hand.

“Do not let them do this.”

I looked at him.

“Do what?”

“Make you regret something because they were watching.”

I laughed once.

“You say that as though the regret started with the message.”

His expression sharpened.

“You regret kissing me?”

“Yes.”

The answer came too quickly.

Ronan noticed.

Of course he did.

His mouth curved faintly.

“You are lying.”

My irritation rose instantly.

“You have become dangerously confident for a man standing within striking distance.”

“Then strike me.”

I stared at him.

“You really do enjoy provoking me.”

“Only when you are pretending.”

Something inside me snapped.

I slapped him.

The sound cut cleanly through the rain.

Ronan’s head turned slightly.

For one second, neither of us moved.

Then I looked at my own hand and realized what I had done.

I had slapped Ronan Ashcroft.

Alpha heir.

Corporate rival.

Primary match.

Possibly the most infuriating man alive.

He slowly turned his face back toward me.

A red mark had already begun forming along his cheek.

I expected anger.

Instead, he laughed.

That made everything worse.

“You find this amusing?”

“A little.”

“You are impossible.”

“So I have been told.”

I stepped closer.

“I meant what I said.”

“About regretting the kiss?”

“Yes.”

His expression changed.

The amusement faded.

“Then I will not do it again.”

That should have satisfied me.

It did not.

I hated the sudden emptiness that followed.

Ronan noticed that too.

“Adrian.”

“What?”

“You are angry because Cradle watched us.”

“I am angry because Cradle keeps proving that none of this happens outside their plan.”

His face hardened.

“That kiss was not their plan.”

“You cannot know that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“How?”

“Because they wanted physical union.”

His voice lowered.

“You gave them a kiss.”

I stared at him.

“That is your argument?”

“No.”

He stepped closer, then stopped before entering my space.

“My argument is that they built conditions around us, but they did not decide what you did with them.”

The words irritated me because they made sense.

I looked away.

Rainwater ran toward the edge of the loading bay.

Somewhere behind us, Damian, Lucian, and Cassian remained inside the safe site, probably wondering whether we had killed each other yet.

I almost preferred that problem.

Ronan spoke again.

“You can hate me.”

“I frequently do.”

“You can distrust me.”

“I do.”

“You can even slap me again if that somehow improves your mood.”

“It might.”

His mouth almost curved.

“But do not hand Cradle ownership of your choices just because they predicted some of them.”

I looked back at him.

There was no arrogance in his face now.

No teasing.

Only certainty.

Something inside me loosened despite myself.

Then my phone vibrated again.

We both looked at it.

Ronan sighed.

“They have terrible timing.”

I opened the message.

No photograph this time.

A document.

BONDING RESPONSE UPDATE

I nearly threw the phone.

Ronan caught my wrist before I could.

“Wait.”

“What?”

He looked closer.

“This may contain useful information.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps they rated the technique.”

He looked at me.

“That sounded jealous of your own kiss.”

I glared at him.

“Read the file.”

He did.

Several lines appeared.

O-17 VOLUNTARY CONTACT: CONFIRMED

A-04 RESTRAINT RESPONSE: STABLE

PAIR ATTACHMENT DEVELOPMENT: ABOVE BASELINE

Then one line stopped us both.

CONCEPTION WINDOW NOT YET ACTIVE

My pulse changed.

Ronan’s expression hardened.

“There.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

“They are still waiting for something.”

I scrolled.

More text.

NEXT FERTILITY ACTIVATION ESTIMATED: 21–28 DAYS

My stomach tightened.

Weeks.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

The second full heat Lucian had warned about.

I kept reading.

SUPPRESSANT REMOVAL REQUIRED BEFORE ACTIVATION

Then:

A-04 PROXIMITY RECOMMENDED UNTIL ENDOCRINE DEPENDENCY STABILIZES

I felt sick.

Ronan looked toward the building.

“They intend to keep us together for weeks.”

“Or make my body believe it needs you long enough that the second heat becomes impossible to separate from you.”

“Yes.”

The thought settled heavily.

I stepped away.

The ache returned almost immediately.

Not severe.

But noticeable.

Ronan saw my face.

“I am sorry.”

I looked at him.

“For what?”

“For being the thing they tied relief to.”

That answer hurt more than it should have.

“You did not choose that.”

“Neither did you.”

We stood in silence.

Then another message arrived.

This one contained only coordinates.

A location inside the city.

Ronan frowned.

“What is that?”

I opened the attachment.

A photograph appeared.

Dr. Halden.

Alive.

Sitting at a table.

His wrists were no longer bound.

He looked directly at the camera.

Beneath the image:

THE PHYSICIAN IS READY TO TALK.

My pulse jumped.

A second line appeared.

ONE PERSON MAY COME.

Ronan immediately said, “No.”

I looked at him.

“You really never learn.”

“I learned enough tonight to recognize obvious bait.”

“It is Halden.”

“Which makes it better bait.”

I zoomed in on the photograph.

Something was written on the wall behind him.

Small.

Almost hidden.

Ronan leaned closer.

“What is that?”

I enlarged it.

Three characters.

O-17

Then another word.

RUN

My blood went cold.

Halden was warning me.

The next message arrived before either of us could speak.

YOU HAVE THIRTY MINUTES.

Then:

COME ALONE, ADRIAN.

Ronan looked at me.

I looked back.

“Do not say it.”

“You are not going alone.”

I sighed.

“You said it anyway.”

He stepped closer.

“This time I mean it.”

I looked at the coordinates again.

Then at the warning Halden had managed to hide inside the photograph.

Run.

Not come.

Run.

Something about the trap was wrong.

And if Halden was trying to tell me not to rescue him, then whatever waited at those coordinates was more dangerous than the kidnapping itself.

My phone vibrated one final time.

A new image loaded.

Not Halden.

A live camera feed.

My father.

Theodore Vale sat bound to a chair beside him.

My breath stopped.

Below the image, one sentence appeared.

YOU MAY SAVE ONE OF THEM.