Ryder cleared his throat. “Current surveillance around her house shows nothing. The area has returned to normal patterns, no suspicious vehicles or watchers. Whoever scared her has backed off since she died.”
“Mission accomplished,” Blaze said. “Professional cleanup with no loose ends left behind.”
Dom looked around the table at his pack, seeing the same grim determination in their faces that he felt in his chest. They were building a picture of professional intimidation and execution that went far beyond what local police understood.
“Siren, your analysis?”
She opened her tablet. “This wasn’t random intimidation,” Siren said, her voice carrying a cold edge. “Someone wanted her compliant and isolated before making their move. They knew she had called Steel Protection and eliminated her before the meeting.”
She looked up from her tablet. “Required resources include a surveillance team or technology to track her movements, communication intercept capability, professional execution team for murder and arson, and knowledge of her routines.”
Dom’s wolf stirred with hunting instincts. They were tracking a dangerous professional assassin, exactly the kind of threat that required their specific skill set to counter.
“We’re dealing with someone who had the resources to monitor her systematically, the patience to build psychological pressure over weeks, and the professionalism to eliminate her when she sought outside help,” Dom said. “Investigation shows a clear motive - victim was researching organized crime and protection rackets, making her a threat to criminal operations. Unknown which specific organization or individuals she had identified, how close she was to exposing them, or if there are other potential targets with similar knowledge.”
“What’s our next move?” Hunter asked.
Dom looked around the table at the five people who’d followed him into this strange life. “Rebecca Matthews called us becauseshe was scared, and now she’s dead. Whoever she was afraid of got to her first, and we’re taking the blame for it. Time to show this community what Steel Protection really stands for.”
Chapter
Ten
Valeria’s deskat the police station had become a war zone of paperwork. Three days since Dom’s interrogation, and witness statements kept piling up like accusations. She rubbed her tired eyes and reached for another cup of coffee.
The overnight shift had brought two more complaints about Steel Protection members questioning people around town. A neighbor of Becca’s who felt intimidated by them asking about suspicious activity. A coworker from County Emergency Management was nervous about their systematic questioning regarding Becca’s recent behavior.
Each report added another layer to the growing case file.
Her phone buzzed with a text from her mother. “Haven’t seen you in days, mija. Everything okay?”
Everything was falling apart, but Valeria couldn’t explain that to Rosa. Couldn’t tell her that the mate bond was tearing her apart while she built a case against her fated one. She typed back a quick “Just busy with work” and set the phone aside.
“You look like hell,” Gabriel said, appearing beside her desk with his own stack of files. “When’s the last time you went home?”
“Home is overrated.” Valeria gestured at the evidence covering her workspace. “Too much to do here.”
Gabriel pulled up a chair, his expression serious. “Phone records came back on Rebecca Matthews.”
Valeria looked up from her paperwork, her stomach clenching. “And?”
“No outgoing call to Steel Protection. Not on Tuesday night, not ever.” Gabriel opened his folder and spread the phone company printouts across her desk. “Dom’s entire story about her calling them for help is complete bullshit.”
The black and white numbers told a story that made her chest tight. Three days of calls, texts, and voicemails from Rebecca Matthews’ final week. Tuesday evening, when Dom claimed Becca had called Steel Protection in fear, her phone records showed calls to her sister in Portland, a pizza delivery order, and a brief conversation with a coworker. Nothing else.
“Why lie about something so easily verified?” Valeria asked, though she dreaded the answer.
“Because he’s arrogant. Maybe he thinks since we’re small-town cops we won’t dig deep enough to check phone records,” he scoffed.
Each detail felt like another nail in Dom’s coffin. Valeria’s bear whined beneath her skin, confused and agitated by the conflict between instinct and evidence. The systematic questioning, the professional coordination, the fabricated alibi. It painted apicture of an organized group with experience covering their tracks.
“I need to interview Becca’s coworkers myself,” Valeria said. “I think it would help me understand what Steel Protection is really after.”
An hour later, Valeria stood in the lobby of the County Emergency Management building, its sterile government atmosphere making her feel more isolated than ever. The receptionist directed her to the communications department, where she found a nervous woman in her thirties with dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Her eyes were red-rimmed with grief.
“Officer Reynolds? I’m Diana Brooks. I worked with Becca for six years. This whole thing is just... I keep expecting her to walk through that door.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Valeria said, settling into the chair beside Diana’s desk. “I understand you were approached by people from Steel Protection. What exactly happened during that conversation?”
