Kael
After I stord out of Charis’s room, I made straight for the terrace at the back of the house.
It overlooked a small garden that was so perfect that it felt artificial. The hedges were trimd into perfect angles, and the flowerbeds were arranged in a way that didn’t seem right for the flowers, but sohow it worked.
For so reason, I felt jumpy and scared. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t catch my breath properly. I opened the top buttons of my shirt and sat on the small stone steps, taking in deep breaths while my mind worked through what I was seeing.
One thing I’ve learned in this line of work is that people’s true nature often manifests in the details others miss. That is, you don’t find a person’s weakness in what they show you; it’s in what they don’t realise they’re showing.
The shape of their house. The way they spend their money. The things they surround themselves with when no one is watching, and how they treat those beneath them.
Despite my inability to read, I have a keen eye for patterns and Isoldes’ were loud.
Take the garden, for instance. Every hedge was cut to exactly the sa height. Every flower bed ford perfect shapes. No plant grew where it wasn’t supposed to. It was beautiful, but it was also completely controlled.
Nothing wild was allowed to exist here.
The sa pattern was also evident inside the house.
I’ve been watching the servants since we arrived, and yesterday, while everyone else was distracted, I noticed sothing. The maids wore long sleeves and full skirts, despite the heat. At first, I thought it was modesty, but upon closer examination, I realised it was a cover.
When one of the maids yesterday reached to set down a tray, the fabric slipped just enough for to catch a glimpse of the purple scars along her wrist. Another maid had bent to gather plates, and I saw the edge of the welt marks on her ankle.
Also, there were more won than n, and every single one of them looked like a copy of the other.
They had the sa build, the sa haircut, the sa body type and wore the exact style of clothing. If you didn’t pay attention, you’d think you were seeing the sa woman over and over.
That couldn’t be a coincidence. It was a design that was aid at erasing the concept of individuality. It was a kind of uniformity that didn’t just exist unless orchestrated by soone.
And they didn’t speak unless directly asked a question, and even then, they answered in more than five words. All their replies were clipped and sounded rehearsed. Their eyes would stay now, and they acted and moved like people who’d learned that making mistakes brought punishnt.
All of it pointed to the sa thing: control.
The art pieces throughout the house told another story. I could tell they were expensive pieces, carefully chosen and displayed not because she loved them but because they reminded visitors of the kind of person she was.
They were made in intricate patterns that looked like a scribble at first glance, but on close look, you’d see there was an image there. Most of the paintings depicted hunting scenes, as well as sculptures of humans attacking a wolf. Beautiful objects that celebrated power over the helpless.
Every art or décor I’ve seen so far pointed to the fact that she enjoyed watching others suffer.
Every object was a testant to power and was placed in locations where it couldn’t be missed.
The servants’ scars, the collective silence. The perfection of the garden and everything else all showed that Isolde loved to collect things and keep them controlled and displayed, maybe for her own pleasure, who knows.
It also showed how manipulative and sadistic she was. Her version of beauty was born from ugliness covered in a façade of perfection.
I knew what she was, and I knew she thought no one could see it.
The woman who had rescued Charis wasn’t a saviour; she was a predator who specialises in making her victims grateful for their chains.
Sighing, I tried to concentrate on what worried more than Charis being blind to Isolde’s manipulation.
My nightmares.
The nightmare had been worse this ti. The sa dream I’d been having for months - the woman chained in a dark underground cave.
But this ti, her face had beco visible. Blood dripped from her eyes, her mouth, and her nose, yet she had a terrifying smile on her face like she was enjoying her own suffering.
Yet I couldn’t recognise her.
I’d woken up gasping and covered in sweat. That’s when I decided to go for a run to clear my head. Running in wolf form always helped think better.
During my run, I hadn’t realised how far I’d travelled from Isolde’s house. When I finally stopped and looked around, I found myself near the old warehouse where my master called ergency etings. It was supposed to be abandoned, but our organisation used it when we needed a secure location.
I’d changed back to human form and was about to walk into the warehouse to rest when I saw cars driving toward the building. Three black SUVs parked outside, and my master got out along with nearly half of our other agents. I saw Sandra among them, her blonde hair catching the moonlight.
They all went into the warehouse quickly, like they were in a hurry.
I tried to rember if there had been a eting scheduled for today that I’d forgotten about. However, I was certain there was no ssage from my master or on the group chat. Then I realised sothing that worried now - I hadn’t gotten any ssages about etings for nearly a month.
Were they holding etings without ?
While I thought about this, I crept toward the warehouse and positioned myself at one of the low windows. I stayed hidden and listened.
My master’s voice carried clearly through the thin walls.
"All hands must be on deck for the successful transfer of the items for Raven," he was saying.
I knew the code system. We always used nas to represent our clients. Animals were VIP clients - the most important and dangerous ones. Birds like the Eagle or Hawk were governnt officials. Sea creatures like sharks or whales were cri bosses. Forest animals, such as bears or wolves, were pack leaders. That ant Raven was soone very important.
We also used Constellations for governnts and councils. tals for finance brokers with too much money and no face. Flowers for internal clean-ups-jobs we don’t want tied to our real lists.
"The cargo is sensitive," my master continued. "Temperature-controlled, ti-sensitive, and extrely valuable. We cannot afford any mistakes."
"What about security?" Sandra’s voice asked.
"Minimal during daylight hours. The client prefers to move during the day when there’s less activity in the area. The subjects are nocturnal and draw strength from the night."
"How many containers?" another agent asked.
"Four total. Each one needs a full escort team. Jensen, you take the first one. Martinez, you get the second. Thompson, the third is yours."
"What about the fourth?" Jensen asked.
"I’ll handle that one personally. This client pays too well for us to take any risks."
There was murmuring of agreent from the other agents.
"What’s our tiline?" Martinez asked.
"First container moves today. The others will follow on Wednesday. By Thursday, everything should be at the final destination."
"And if there are complications?"
My master’s voice turned cold. "There won’t be complications. Everyone knows what happens to agents who fail important missions."
The room went quiet. We all knew what happened - agents who failed didn’t get second chances.
"Moving on," my master said. "Sandra, how are things going with our embedded agent?"
My blood ran cold. They were talking about .
"Kael is becoming difficult," Sandra reported. "He’s questioning orders, avoiding contact, and showing signs of emotional attachnt to his cover identity."
"Explain."
"He’s ford bonds with his supposed classmates."
"Bonds?" I heard my master ask.
"He’s tied to three high-value students—Rhett Thatcher, Slater Riggs and the girl, Charis and from my observation, I think they’re all romantically involved with the girl. On Kael’s side, he’s done everything to ignore this entire week. Also, he shares a dorm with all the people I’d just ntioned."
"Charis?" I heard my boss mutter the na. "Charis Greye?"
"Yes, Charis Greye," Sandra confird. "The one whose identity was exposed in the dia yesterday. She’s under the protection of our client."
"Interesting. And how does this affect Kael’s usefulness?"
"He’s protective of her and won’t do anything that might put her in danger. It’s making him unreliable for certain types of missions."
"Such as?"
"Elimination assignnts. Intelligence gathering that might compromise her safety. anything that conflicts with his emotional attachnts."
My master was quiet for a mont. "And the other students?"
"Rhett Thatcher and Slater Riggs. Both from powerful packs. Rhett’s father is influential in pack politics. Slater’s family is the famous pack from the north, which has autonomy and is not ruled by Stormrock. They also have a lot of governnt connections."
"I know all of that," I heard my master say. "Kael told about them, and they’ve been useful to him since he started at Ravenshore. Any other thing?"
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