Chapter 14 Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Chapter 14
IRIS POV
The ride back to Vale's building was silent, suffocating. He drove like he was trying to outrun something, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
I kept replaying what happened at the grave. The way he'd cuffed me to that tree, the raw fury in his eyes when he thought I might be in danger. It wasn't just about control. It was something darker, more possessive.
"You're staring," he said without looking at me.
"You handcuffed me to a tree."
"You broke into a crime scene."
"It's not a crime scene if no one knows about it."
He laughed, cold and sharp. "That's exactly what makes it dangerous."
We pulled into the underground garage of his building. The elevator ride up was worse than the car, the space too small, his presence too overwhelming. I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the winter and whiskey scent that seemed permanently attached to his skin.
When the doors opened, he grabbed my elbow. Not rough, but firm enough that I knew he wasn't asking.
"Where are we going?"
"My office. We need to talk."
"We just talked."
"No, I lectured. You listened. Now we talk."
His office was all glass and steel, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Snow was falling again, covering everything in white lies.
He poured himself a drink, didn't offer me one. "Sera Damian has been investigating my sister's death for six months."
"Why?"
"Because she's obsessed with me." He took a long swallow. "We dated. Five years. She cheated, I left. Now she's convinced if she solves this case, I'll come back to her."
"Will you?"
His eyes cut to mine. "What do you think?"
"I think you're using me the same way she's using your sister's case."
He set the glass down hard. "I'm not using you."
"Then what do you call this? The contract, the surveillance, keeping my phone?"
"Insurance." He moved closer. "You falsified evidence, Iris. You buried the truth. I need to make sure you don't do it again."
"So you don't trust me."
"I don't trust anyone."
The admission hung between us, raw and honest. I should've been angry, should've thrown it back in his face. But instead, I felt something shift. A crack in his armor, small but there.
"What happened to her?" I asked quietly. "Your sister. How did she really die?"
His jaw tightened. For a second, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "She was murdered. Stabbed seventeen times. Left in the woods like garbage."
My stomach turned. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?" He stepped closer. "Or are you sorry you got caught?"
"Both."
The honesty surprised him. I could see it in the way his expression changed, softened for just a fraction of a second.
"At least you're not lying anymore," he said.
"I'm tired of lying."
"Good." He reached into his jacket, pulled out my phone. "Then you'll tell me the truth about this."
He handed me the phone. The screen was lit up with missed calls. Fifteen of them. All from Rowan.
"He's looking for you," Vale said. "What are you going to tell him?"
My hands shook. "That I'm working late."
"He won't believe that."
"He will. He always does."
Vale's eyes darkened. "He's in love with you."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement, delivered like a fact he'd already investigated and confirmed.
"That's none of your business."
"Everything about you is my business now." He took the phone back before I could make a call. "You can text him. Nothing more. And I read it before you send it."
"You're unbelievable."
"I'm thorough." He handed me back the phone. "Type."
I wanted to throw it at his face. Instead, I typed: Working late on a new case. Don't worry. I'll call tomorrow.
Vale read it over my shoulder, his breath warm on my neck. "Send it."
I did. Within seconds, Rowan replied: Be careful. Something feels off.
"Smart man," Vale murmured. "He knows when you're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"You're working on a case. That part's true. But you left out the part where you're doing it under duress, surveillance, and the constant threat of exposure."
"Because that would make him worry."
"Or come looking for you." Vale's voice dropped. "Is that what you want? Him playing hero?"
"I want you to leave him out of this."
"Then keep him out of it." He stepped back, creating distance between us. "The skull fragment you've been analyzing belongs to a woman named Catherine Marks. Thirty-four years old, reported missing three years ago. No body ever found."
I stared at him. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've had my team working the same case you have. I wanted to see if your analysis matched ours."
"And?"
"It does. Perfectly." He pulled up a file on his computer, turned the screen toward me. Catherine Marks smiled from a photo, young and alive. "She was a forensic accountant. Worked for the DA's office."
"Julian Marrow?"
"The same." Vale's expression turned grim. "She was investigating financial irregularities in evidence processing. Money laundering through the forensic labs. She disappeared before she could finish her report."
My blood ran cold. "You think Marrow killed her?"
"I think someone did. And I think your father's falsified report wasn't the only one."
The room spun. I gripped the edge of his desk. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying this is bigger than one lie, Iris. Bigger than my sister, bigger than Catherine Marks." He closed the distance between us again, and this time I didn't step back. "There's a network. People covering for each other, burying evidence, making bodies disappear. And your father was part of it."
"No." My voice cracked. "He wouldn't—"
"He did." Vale's hand came up, cupped my jaw, forced me to look at him. "And now you're going to help me prove it."
A tear slid down my cheek. He caught it with his thumb.
"I hate you," I whispered.
"I know."
Then he kissed me.