Aurora ’s Perspective
The car sped along the road back to the estate. Outside, the city lights stread by like a cold, distant galaxy. Lex drove in focused silence, throwing the occasional worried glance. The only sounds were the engine’s low growl and the hiss of the heater.
The lead from Marta was like a rusty fishhook lodged deep in my mind. A sliver of hope, vanishingly small, yet impossible to ignore. Wait for Marta’s people to make discreet inquiries? Wait for that junkie who might never wake up coherent? Every passing second felt like another weight added to the scales of whatever tornt Brett might be enduring. The image of Uncle Jacob’s bloodshot eyes and Aunt Selena’s silently trembling shoulders wouldn’t leave .
A frantic, burning anxiety churned in my gut, hotter than the alcohol I’d consud. I stared at the faint glow of my phone screen, my finger hovering over the newly saved contact labeled "L.S."
Liam Thornton. He’d saved , but his background, his motives, were still shrouded in fog I couldn’t penetrate. Contacting him ant exposing my rawest vulnerability to a stranger from a complex, foreign pack. The risk was obvious.
But... he had resources. He could mobilize people. They dealt with places like Pandora. Their knowledge of the gray areas likely surpassed the Moonlight Pack’s. And in a way, we were bound together by this ss. He owed answers, and I... I might need his help now.
Logic and emotion, caution and desperate impulse, warred in my head. It wasn’t until the car turned onto the private tree-lined drive leading ho, familiar oak shadows whipping past, that the suffocating feeling of returning to a safe cage only to resu an endless wait finally tipped the scales.
To hell with caution.
I took a deep breath and pressed the call button. The ringtone sounded jarringly loud in the quiet car. One ring, two, three... It went to voicemail. A cold, automated female voice prompted to leave a ssage. A mix of disappointnt, embarrassnt, and sharp regret—*see, I knew this was a mistake*—clenched my chest. *Damn it. Too late. Maybe he wants nothing more to do with us. Maybe the number was just a polite gesture.*
I was about to hang up when the screen lit up. Incoming call. "L.S." My heart skipped a beat. I answered.
"Aurora ?" His voice ca through, deeper than I rembered, husky with sleep and a trace of fatigue, but clear. "Sorry, I was asleep. Missed your call."
*Asleep.* Of course. It was the middle of the night. Or he was just resting. I’d called him in the dead of night over a junkie’s ramblings. My cheeks burned. Embarrassnt tied my tongue.
"No, no, *I’m* sorry, Liam. Really sorry to call so late... I didn’t realize you’d be resting..." I babbled, feeling foolish. I could almost sll that familiar scent of salt air and coffee through the phone line, which only made more flustered.
"It’s fine." His voice evened out, as if he’d sat up. "What’s wrong? Are you unwell, or... is there news about Brett?" He cut straight to the point, no pleasantries.
It snapped back to grim reality. I spoke quickly, laying out the lead from Marta as clearly as I could. I emphasized the ti pressure, my own helplessness.
"I know it’s probably nothing, a waste of your ti, but... Liam, I can’t just wait. Any chance, no matter how small... I have to try. Can you... could you help? Use your thods to check it out? See if there’s anything off in that area?" My voice held an unintended plea by the end.
Silence on the line. Long, heavy silence. Only the faint static and the pounding of my own heart. Regret flooded . This was reckless. Asking him to use his pack’s resources to chase an unsubstantiated street rumor, for soone not even from his pack. What obligation did he have? Every reason to refuse, to think I was being irrational.
Just as the silence threatened to crush and the words "forget I asked" ford on my lips, his voice finally returned.
"Edge of the old industrial zone, between the junkyard and the tent city..." he repeated slowly, as if pulling up a ntal map. "I know the area. Territory is fuzzy there. A buffer zone between the Bloodclaw and Shatterbone packs’ claid turf. A ssy no-man’s-land neither wants to bother fully cleaning up. It would be a good place to hide sothing you don’t want seen."
My heart lifted.
"A drunk’s tip isn’t necessarily all noise," he continued, his tone analytical, cool as if he’d downed three espressos. "In fringe zones like that, private enterprises pop up. Holding ’inconvenient’ problems, or warehousing ’rchandise’ awaiting trade... including wolves of particular interest."
His analysis made Marta’s lead feel suddenly more credible, and infinitely more terrifying.
Another pause. Then, I heard the word.
"Yes."
Simple. Direct. No conditions, no speeches.
I held my breath.
"I’ll have a couple of my people, the discreet kind good at blending in, take a casual ’walk’ around the periphery. They won’t go deep, won’t stir the pot. Just observe for any grey buildings with heavy security matching the description. If they see anything suspicious, we assess the next step."
"Liam... thank you. Really." My voice hitched. Imnse gratitude and a wave of exhausted relief washed over .
"Don’t thank yet, Aurora ." His tone turned serious. "This is just a reconnaissance. Even if the place exists, even if Brett *was* there, whether he still is, alive or... not, is unknown. And if it involves other pack interests or underground deals, intervening gets dangerous and complicated fast. Understand?"
"I understand," I whispered, nails digging into my palm. "I just need... a direction. A confirmation. The rest... the Moonlight Pack will handle." It was a matter of pack pride, and duty.
"Alright." He offered nothing more. "I’ll contact you with any news. Keep your phone on. And," he paused, his voice softening a fraction, "take care of yourself. After what you’ve been through, you need to recover. Don’t push too hard."
The call ended. I leaned back in the seat, clutching the slightly warm phone, eyes closed. Lex shot a questioning look.
"He agreed?" Lex asked, surprise and a hint of sothing else—maybe envy?—in his voice.
"Yeah." I nodded. Exhaustion washed over , but the wire stretched taut inside loosened, just a hair. There was a direction. Soone was acting.
Outside, the familiar outline of the estate gates erged from the darkness. Warmth. Safety. Another kind of cage. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for my parents’ concern and likely reproach. But at least now, I carried a tiny, flickering fla of hope inside.
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