Draven.
I had barely slept.
Two hours, at most, and most of them were haunted by flashes of the dead bodies of our people. And that dance.
For the past seven minutes, I had sat at the head of the breakfast table, silent, barely touching my plate but watching redith.
She was eating. Not cautiously. Just... normally. Quietly. A slice of buttered toast. A cup of warm broth. So grilled mushroom cuts.
She looked like a woman who had slept well, like soone who hadn’t stood barefoot in the garden, and that too in the middle of the night, dancing in the moonlight like she was being manipulated.
redith hadn’t noticed staring. Or maybe she had and didn’t care.
Her fingers moved with idle grace. Her hair was pinned loosely today, leaving soft strands curling around her neck. Not a flicker of guilt on her face.
"She truly wasn’t conscious last night," I confird inwardly.
’I told you she wasn’t herself,’ Rhovan added darkly.
"You said that, yes," I replied flatly. "You also conveniently disappeared when I asked by what."
Rhovan stayed quiet. Either still sulking or simply without an answer.
I rubbed my temple once and sighed inwardly. I had no ti to confront redith this morning about it. Not yet.
Wanda’s yawn broke the tension. She sat across from redith, leaning half against her armrest, looking like soone who had walked through two nights of restless sleep.
She had returned early this morning, alone. Probably had a shower and changed before making it to the table, but exhaustion was still painted on her face.
I stood up.
redith’s spoon paused mid-air, her gaze flicking to in surprise. I didn’t have the ti to look back.
"Draven, you are going?" Wanda called lightly, straightening up. "Can I co with you?"
"Get so sleep first," I said to her. She had worked hard last night and deserved so rest. And besides, there was nothing much she could do on the site today.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
I ruffled Xamira’s hair gently. "See you, pumpkin."
"Bye Daddy!" she chirped behind .
I gave her a small smile and left the dining room.
Outside, the morning sun was slow to rise, casting a dull grey hue across the estate grounds. I walked straight toward the side guard post and stopped one of the n who had been on night duty.
"At night," I said. "Have you ever seen anyone outside after midnight?"
The guard blinked, clearly confused. "No, Alpha. I didn’t. Should I have?"
I shook my head. "Never mind."
Then I got into the SUV, adjusted the rearview once, and pulled away from the estate.
---
By the ti I reached the warehouse, Dennis and Jeffery were already on site, standing near the caution tape.
The warehouse lood large behind them, rusted and silent—just another ruin tucked between the port’s endless sprawl of shadows.
Jeffery repeated the details he had given on the phone, only more thoroughly this ti.
The phone had been found near a pile of old crates at the far end of the warehouse.
Shattered. Bloodied. Ronan’s na was still etched faintly into the back of the case.
His bent and slightly wet port badge was discovered near the exit.
I crouched next to the spot, letting the scent trails speak, but they didn’t.
The forensic team was already wrapping up, their equipnt halfway back in their van.
"No blood spatter. No drag marks. No hair. No scent beyond a faint residual trace of wolf," one of them reported. "Our verdict: this wasn’t a cri scene. Not in the legal sense."
As our internal forensic team cleared out, one of our warriors stepped forward, frustrated. "Alpha, if I may—what if Ronan was actually kidnapped outside Taproot and brought here? Maybe they tortured him."
Another nodded. "Could be. That would explain the broken phone, right? And his blood?"
"No," I said quietly. "Ronan was never brought here."
Confusion swept the group.
A third warrior frowned. "Then... how did his things end up here?"
Dennis exhaled loudly. "A distraction. Soone left them here on purpose."
The silence that followed was heavy. Thick with implications. And when the weight finally settled on everyone’s shoulders, I let them get breakfast.
They would need their strength. This case wasn’t over.
At noon, our investigations and search led us to a second site, which was harder to digest.
We reached the lonely stretch of riverbank just past 1 PM. It was quiet here, even with the breeze brushing through reeds and sand.
And there, by a jagged boulder, folded jeans. An orange hoodie. Blood-smudged and damp.
Jeffery crouched down. His nose twitched slightly. "That’s his scent."
Soone behind us asked, "Was he drowned?"
Jeffery answered before I could. "No. This is just like the warehouse. A setup."
A few of the younger wolves cursed under their breath.
I stepped forward and knelt beside the clothes. Picked up the hoodie. Sniffed. Then the jeans.
Ronan. But only barely. The scent was newer than it should have been.
I stood up after so ti and walked away from the riverbank.
Dennis quickly followed and caught up with . "What did you find out, brother?"
"He was never here either," I said, stopping in my steps. "He is not dead yet. They took him."
Dennis stiffened. "They?"
I nodded slowly. "The humans."
Dennis’s jaw slackened. "Brother, you are sure?"
"They tried to mask their scent. They almost succeeded. But the breeze here—" I looked over my shoulder. "—hasn’t fully carried it away yet."
Dennis didn’t look surprised. He knew I had the nose for things others missed.
Then he asked the more important question: "So... the other three that had their hearts ripped out... Were the humans behind it?"
"It is very unlikely," I said quietly.
Dennis didn’t speak for a while. Then he shook his head slowly. "So, the humans are copying them?"
"They thought they were being clever. They took advantage of the previous deaths and used the pattern to cover their own tracks. But they made a mistake by not continuing the pattern until the end, which shows they have a different agenda."
"They didn’t take Ronan’s heart. They took his entire body," Dennis murmured.
I nodded once. "That was how I caught them."
It would have still been possible for the humans to be responsible for the first deaths under the guise of organ harvest. Fortunately, I have been to both cri scenes. There was a difference.
Footsteps approached, and Jeffery rejoined us just as my phone buzzed.
Mayor Brackham.
"Speak of the devil," I muttered.
Dennis arched a brow. "Who?"
"The Mayor," I replied and then answered the call.
"Alpha Draven," ca his voice, oily, polite.
I cut straight to the chase. "Good afternoon, Mr. Mayor. I hope you have good news?"
There was a pause from the other end before his voice ca up again. "Unfortunately, Alpha... our Investigative team hasn’t found anything conclusive."
Of course not.
I let out a breath. "That’s disappointing. Which is why I have decided sothing needs to be done—sothing that will ease tensions in this city. And quickly."
There was a brief hesitation from the other end.
Then he said, "Go on, Alpha. Na it. Duskmoor will support whatever asure necessary to bring this to a close."
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