CHAPTER 3: DEAD WOMEN DON'T STEAL ENVELOPES

Vespera's POV If Damon Blackthorne thought locking me inside his estate would make me cooperative, he was about to have a very disappointing evening. I followed him towards the security room with my hands in my jacket pockets, my stolen envelope pressed against my ribs, and several increasingly creative ideas about where I could hide his body if he continued looking at me like I was a problem he intended to solve. Technically, I was a problem. However, I preferred to think of myself as an opportunity for personal growth. For him, obviously. "Stop smiling." Damon ordered without looking back. "Stop being entertaining." I said. "I'm not entertaining." He said. "You're right. Entertaining people usually possess a sense of humour." I said. "You do realise I could have you restrained?" He asked as he glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing. "You could also develop a personality, but we can't all achieve our dreams." I said. Callum, who was walking behind us, made a suspicious choking sound and Damon stopped. Callum immediately became fascinated by the ceiling. "Something funny, Reeve?" Damon asked. "No, Alpha." Callum said. "Then stop making that noise." Damon said. "Yes, Alpha." Callum saud. I smiled at Callum as we continued walking, earning myself a brief, grateful look from him. Perhaps Blackthorne Pack wasn't entirely unbearable. It was possible that some of its members possessed enough intelligence to recognise an entertaining conversation when they heard one. We reached a reinforced door guarded by two armed security officers. One stepped aside when Damon approached, and the other gave me a suspicious glance before looking at the blood on my sleeve. "Is she coming in?" He asked. "No." I answered. "Yes." Damon said at the same time. "I appreciate the consultation." I said as I turned towards him. "You'll survive." He said. "That remains to be seen." I said. The security room was larger than I expected, with screens covering an entire wall and displaying different sections of the estate. Operators sat at their stations, speaking quietly into headsets while others reviewed footage from the attack. A large central table held maps, radios, and several weapons. I immediately spotted three security weaknesses. The first was the camera feed covering the western entrance, which had a blind spot near the outer wall. The second was a service corridor visible on one monitor but absent from the digital map displayed beside it. The third was the fact that everyone entering the room could see the access codes written on a whiteboard behind the main operator. I looked at Damon. "Your security team needs a holiday." I said. "Explain." He said as his expression remained flat. "Your western cameras have a blind spot, someone has access to an unmapped service corridor, and your access codes are displayed for everyone to read." I explained. Silence settled across the room and the main operator slowly turned towards the whiteboard. Damon looked at the cameras, then at the map. Finally, he looked at me. "How long did that take you?" He asked. "About twelve seconds." I said and Callum swore under his breath. "You're welcome." I smiled. Damon approached the central table and placed both hands on its surface. "Change the access codes. Pull every recording from the western perimeter and the service corridor, and restrict access to the security system until Maren completes an audit." Damon ordered. The operators immediately began working and I watched them for a moment before turning towards the door. "Where do you think you're going?" Damon asked. "Somewhere with better interior design." I said. "Sit down." He said. "Ask nicely." I said. "Please sit down before I lose what's left of my patience." He said and I considered him. "That wasn't terrible." I said and then I sat. Damon looked as though he regretted every decision he'd ever made. It was a promising start to our relationship. Callum placed the evidence bag containing the photograph on the table, and my amusement disappeared. Even through the plastic, I could see the old stone building in the background. I remembered the place too well, including the smell of wet earth, the blood on the steps, and the man who had told me to run without explaining why. Seven years had passed, but some memories never learned when to leave. Damon noticed the change in my expression. "You recognise the building." Damon said. It wasn't a question. "I've seen a lot of buildings." I said. "Do you always become this charming when you're lying?" He asked. "Only when the person questioning me is particularly unattractive." I said and Callum coughed into his fist. "You knew those hunters were Grey Division before I did. You recognised their weapons, and you knew enough to be afraid when you saw that photograph." Damon said as he kept his attention on me. "I wasn't afraid." I said. "No?" He asked. "I was considering how expensive it would be to burn down your estate." I said. "With you inside it?" He asked. "That would depend on whether you were annoying me at the time." I said. His mouth twitched, although he seemed determined not to let the expression develop into an actual smile. Then he turned towards Callum. "Find out where that photograph came from. I want every detail about the attacker who carried it, including his identity and anything recovered from his equipment." Damon ordered. Callum nodded and left the room. Damon remained beside the table, watching me with the unnerving patience of someone who had never needed to worry about running out of time. I disliked him already. Unfortunately, I also needed to know what was inside that envelope. The security room offered access to the estate's internal records, and one of the terminals displayed the same confidential database I'd seen in his office. If the report contained information about the Grey Division, it might explain why my father's name had appeared in their records. I leaned towards the screen and Damon immediately stepped between me and the terminal. "Absolutely not." He said. I stared at his chest before raising my eyes to his face. "Do you practise being insufferable, or does it come naturally?" I asked. "You're not accessing my systems." He said. "Then stop leaving them unattended." I said. "I am standing directly in front of you." He said. "Congratulations on your awareness." I said. He folded his arms so I folded mine. For several seconds, we stared at each other while the operators pretended not to watch. Then Damon leaned forward. "Tell me your surname." He said. "No." I said. "Vespera." He said. "Damon." I said. "That's my name." He said. "Well done. We're both learning." I said. His jaw tightened, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Then the terminal behind him chimed. An operator frowned at the screen before opening a second window. "Alpha, I've found something unusual in the archived records." The operator said. "What?" Damon asked as he turned immediately. "The photograph appears to match an entry in an old Shifter Council database. The record is restricted, but the system has retained the subject's identification details." The man said and my stomach dropped. "No." I whispered but Damon heard me. His gaze snapped towards my face, and the humour disappeared from his expression. "What is it?" He asked. I stood, suddenly unable to remain seated. The operator enlarged the archived record, revealing a photograph of a younger woman with auburn hair and amber eyes. Beside it was a name I had spent years trying to bury. VESPERA VALE. Underneath, a single word appeared in red. DECEASED. For a moment, the room seemed to tilt. I knew the record existed. I had seen versions of it before, buried beneath false reports and sealed documents, but I had never expected to find it inside Blackthorne Estate. Someone had officially declared me dead. Someone had made sure the world believed it. Damon moved beside the terminal, reading the entry with an expression I couldn't decipher. "Vale." He said quietly and I forced myself to breathe. "That's a common surname." I said. "Not in the records connected to this case." He said as his eyes moved to mine. "Theron Vale was the Alpha of Ashbourne Pack." He said but I said nothing. "He was murdered seven years ago after being accused of treason. His daughter disappeared shortly afterwards and was presumed dead." He added. The words landed between us like a blade. I could lie. I could deny everything and find another way out of the estate. But Damon had already seen too much. "Then I suppose your records are very thorough." I said and his expression hardened. "Are you Theron Vale's daughter?" He asked. I looked at the screen, at the photograph of a girl who had once believed her father could protect her from anything. Then I looked at the man standing beside me, the Alpha who had caught me stealing from his office and somehow managed to become entangled in the worst part of my past within a single night. "Suppose I am. What would you do with that information?" I replied. Damon didn't answer immediately. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, and I felt my own react with a sudden, inexplicable pull towards him. I clenched my hands, furious that my body had chosen this moment to betray me. Finally, Damon spoke. "I would ask why someone declared you dead when you're standing in front of me." He said. "Perhaps dead women are easier to control." I said and his expression changed. For the first time since we'd met, he didn't have a sarcastic response ready. Before either of us could speak again, the operator's terminal chimed a second time. A new message had appeared in the archived file. It contained only one line. IF VESPERA VALE IS ALIVE, INITIATE RECOVERY PROTOCOL. ELIMINATE ALL WITNESSES. The room fell silent. Damon read the message twice before turning towards me. I was already reaching for the knife beneath my jacket because I knew exactly what those words meant. The Grey Division hadn't simply found me. They had discovered that I was still alive. And now, somewhere beyond the walls of Blackthorne Estate, someone had decided that my second death needed to be permanent.