Page 15 of Fated to the Enemy Alpha

“A male shifter,” I said, forcing a tremble into my voice. “A rogue wolf.”

“One of the Totem-marked wolves?” Magnus pressed, the question sharp.

I shook my head. “They were plain gray.” I knew I couldn’t pin this on the rogue wolves who had attacked the mate ceremony as they were likely Magnus’s men.

“Where did they take you?” Magnus asked.

“I don’t know. I was blindfolded and tied up. He and some other shifters bundled me into a van.”

“How long was the drive?” Stephen’s clipped voice, laced with a quiet intensity, sliced through the silence, making my nerves tingle. He had moved closer. His tall figure now loomed over me from the end of the sofa. His expression was controlled, masking whatever thoughts and emotions churned beneath. I sensed his anger, and I had to tread carefully to ensure that I didn’t betray any feeling toward him, anything that might alert Magnus to the secret about our shared past.

“A few hours, I suppose,” I said, my voice wobbling slightly. “I don’t know the exact time it took—I was bound and blindfolded,” I repeated.

“What did they want with you?” Magnus asked.

“To ransom me to my parents,” I said. “But when they heard they had been killed, their plan changed.” I took a steadying breath, knowing this was the moment to lean on the truth to give my fabrication some credit. “They tried to use me to access funds from my mom and dad’s accounts.”

Magnus’s attention sharpened. “How—did they take you to a bank?”

I shook my head. “No, they had a tech guy who used my knowledge of my father’s accounts to try to hack into them,” I said.

“How many years ago was this?” I definitely had Magnus’s attention now. Because Emily had tried to hack into my parents’ bank accounts a few months after their deaths. We’d abandoned the operation as we’d been detected by Blackthorn’s security team both times. Pulling funds out into our own accounts had proved too risky.

“Early on, a few months after my parents passed,” I answered.

“Did they try again?” Magnus asked, his attention razor-sharp.

I frowned, pausing. “Yes, about a year of being with them, the hacker came back, asking to check the bank account details again.”

Magnus looked reflective, his gaze snapping to Stephen for a moment before he centered it back on me.

I thought I caught a flicker of disbelief in his expression. “When did you escape?” Magnus asked.

“Four months ago,” I said.

“How did you get out?” Stephen asked.

“I faked an illness, and they brought a doctor in. I managed to shift. I surprised the guard and ran like hell.” I paused, allowing a flicker of defiance to ignite in my eyes. “It wasn’t easy, but—”

“Did you get a look at the building?” Magnus interrupted. “Do you know where it’s located?”

“It was an old power station on the river in Philadelphia.”

“An old power station?” Stephen echoed, his gaze narrowing, his jaw ticking slightly. “The conditions you were held in must have been basic.” He was definitely calling me out on my bullshit.

I wasn’t going to let him. It was time to let my own defiance come out. I couldn’t allow him to crack my façade. I let the defiance pool in my eyes, and I stared him down. “It wasn’t the Ritz, by any means. But I had a mattress and a bucket and a hot meal on a good day.”

I let it show in my voice—the rage and indignation. Yesterday, Matthew had planted a few signs of occupation in the old power station that my shadow company owned, corroborating my story—right down to the mattress and bucket I claimed to have used. And, although my shadow company’s network consisted primarily of human employees, I knew a handful of shifters who had been willing to help me leave their scent around the few Philly buildings Matthew had planted evidence in. It made me feel secure, and I let the anger I felt toward Stephen, daring to try to pick holes in my story, show. It was the kind of anger I’d have toward captors who had held me for years.

A muscle ticked in Stephen’s jaw. He turned his gaze to Magnus. I thought he was about to seek his father’s approval to continue his line of questioning, but he surprised me as he blurted out, “I’ll go to Philly tomorrow and see what I can find,” he said, the words clipped—a promise of action. I sensed the anger rolling off him in waves.

“You will await my orders.” Magnus ground out, his voice a low warning. His thick brows scowled as he shot a look at his son. Stephen seemed to get the message, snapping his jaw shut and returning to his position by the door, as still and silent as a statue.

A surge of satisfaction shot through me that Stephen hadn’t succeeded in rattling me.

After a weighty moment of dangerous quiet, where it took all of my willpower not to squirm, Magnus finally shot another question at me. “When did you escape?”

“Four months ago,” I said, realizing he’d already asked me this. He was testing the consistency of my story and whether it remained the same under pressure. Anxiety coiled in my gut.

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