Page 14 of Alpha Wolf (Return To Fate Mountain #6)

Chapter

Thirteen

Dom watched Valeria from across the small cabin as her terror filled the space between them. She sat curled against the wall on the narrow bed; arms wrapped around her knees like armor. Every muscle in her body looked tense, and the pale cast to her skin told him she was deep in shock.

His wolf paced restlessly inside him, every instinct demanding he comfort her. The scent of her fear cut through him like a blade. She already saw him as a predator. Approaching her would only make things worse. Instead, he focused on what he could control.

“You’re in shock,” Dom said quietly, moving toward the kitchenette. “You need to eat.”

He kept his movements slow and deliberate, hyperaware of how she tracked his every step. She looked like a prey animal watching a predator. It made his chest ache.

Dom opened a cabinet, pulling out canned chicken noodle soup and oyster crackers. Simple food that wouldn’t tax her traumatized system. He’d seen enough soldiers in shock to recognize the signs. Her body was running on pure adrenaline, and when that crashed, she’d need sustenance.

The smell of chicken soup filled the cabin as he heated it on the small stove. Valeria remained frozen, but he caught her nostrils flaring at the scent. Hunger was a basic need that would eventually override her fear.

“I’m not going to drug it,” he said without turning around. “Or poison it. If you’re worried about that.”

Her silence spoke volumes. He ladled soup into two bowls, setting them on the small table between them. Dom took a spoonful from his own bowl, meeting her eyes as he swallowed.

“See? Safe.”

Valeria’s gaze flicked to the bowl, then back to his face. Calculating. Her suspicion warring with her hunger. After several minutes, she grabbed the bowl and returned to her position on the bed.

Dom remained in the chair at the table. Valeria’s hands shook slightly as she lifted the spoon, but she managed several bites.

“I know what you are,” Valeria said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Dom looked up from his soup bowl, meeting her eyes across the small space. The fear was still there, but something else had joined it. Determination. His mate was rallying, finding her strength despite the circumstances.

“You’re a Crown Mountain mercenary,” she continued. “The contractors who escaped justice while Jason Prescott took the fall.”

Dom set down his spoon, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Crown Mountain. The very conspiracy they’d come to Fate Mountain to stop.

“Becca figured it out, didn’t she?” Valeria pressed on. “She was building a case against you. That’s why she had to die.”

Dom’s wolf snarled at the implication, alpha energy flaring despite his efforts to stay calm. “You think I’m Crown Mountain?”

“I know you are.” Steel entered her voice.

“The timing is perfect. You waited for the attention to die down, then returned under the cover of a legitimate business.” She lifted another spoonful of soup to her lips.

“The locals knew. Day one, they recognized you as a threat. The diner fight wasn’t random violence.

It was a community trying to protect itself from returning predators. ”

Dom stared at her, processing the elegant logic of her case. From her perspective, everything fit.

“There’s no record of Becca calling Steel Protection,” Valeria said, taking the last bite of her soup. “We checked her phone records. Your entire story about her requesting help was fabricated.”

“She was concerned about phone security,” Dom said carefully. “She probably used a virtual number.”

Valeria’s expression told him exactly what she thought of that explanation. Convenient. Unverifiable. The kind of detail criminals added to make lies sound plausible.

“She was researching Crown Mountain,” Valeria continued, pressing her advantage. “Becca found patterns of delayed emergency responses during every attack. Someone with access to emergency coordination was enabling maximum damage.”

Dom’s blood chilled as the implications hit him. Emergency response delays. Professional coordination. The kind of inside knowledge that would make devastating attacks possible.

“You studied those weaknesses,” she accused. “Used them to plan your operations. It was the perfect intelligence for mercenaries.” She set her empty bowl aside. “She connected you to all the previous attacks. That’s why she had to die.”

The cabin fell silent. Dom leaned forward, his wolf demanding she understand the truth. “We arrived after all the attacks were over. Why would we return to a place where we’d already completed operations?”

“Because Prescott’s arrest made everyone think the threat was over,” she replied without hesitation. “Perfect time to return for cleanup operations. Eliminate witnesses. Tie up loose ends.”

From her perspective, he was exactly what she suspected.

“If we were Crown Mountain mercenaries,” Dom said slowly, “why would we investigate Becca’s murder? Why draw attention to ourselves?”

That gave her pause. He watched her process the question, looking for flaws in his logic.

“Damage control,” she said finally, but with less certainty. “You needed to know how much Becca discovered, who she might have told.”

Dom stood slowly, moving to his equipment bag. Valeria tensed, ready to bolt despite having nowhere to go. He pulled out his phone, fingers moving across the screen.

“Steel Protection was formed five years ago,” he said, turning the phone so she could see the screen from across the room. “After Crown Mountain-style attacks hit shifter communities in Colorado and Nevada.” She leaned forward slightly as he flipped through photos of devastated communities.

“We came here because we thought they might return,” Dom continued. “Systematic attacks like Crown Mountain don’t just stop. The masterminds behind the operation are still out there.”

He caught the first flicker of doubt in her eyes when he flipped to his official incorporation papers with dates that didn’t match her timeline. Dom could read the conflict in her body language. The evidence didn’t fit her theory.

“Professional mercenaries don’t investigate their own crimes,” he pressed gently. “They don’t set up legitimate businesses with public documentation. And they sure as hell don’t rescue police officers from assassination attempts.” She tensed at his words. The last point hit home.

“The phone call. I have a record of her incoming number on our business line,” Dom said, sitting back down. “That can be traced even if she used a virtual number or a payphone.”

Valeria’s rigid posture began to soften slightly. Not convinced, but no longer certain of his guilt.

“She knew something,” Dom continued. “Something that got her killed. But it wasn’t about us. It was about whoever’s still running Crown Mountain operations.”

The cabin fell quiet again, but the silence felt different now. Less hostile. More thoughtful. Dom watched his mate process the new information, her sharp mind working through the implications and connections.

“The emergency response delays,” she said slowly. “That points to someone with official access.”

Dom nodded. “Someone still in place. Still operational. Using the same methods that made the original attacks so effective.”

“And they knew I was investigating,” Valeria added, pieces clicking together. “That’s how I was ambushed.”

“Which means you found something,” Dom said. “Something that scared them enough to order your elimination.”