CHAPTER 13

VICTOR

The police station basement smelled like mildew and old paper.

I wasn’t supposed to be there. The clerk at the front desk had told me the Reyes case files were sealed indefinitely due to ongoing federal review.

That was six days ago and she had said it with the kind of smile that meant "don’t ask again."

Tonight the back door was unlocked.

I told myself it was a coincidence, that maybe it was just the janitor who forgot. The truth was I’d been watching the night guard for two weeks.

He took his smoke break at 11:13PM and never checked the alley door. He also never checked the cameras.

Helena’s parents died eight years ago. The official story was a car crash on Route 17 during a storm with no witnesses, the car just went off a cliff and the case closed in 48 hours with body identification pending DNA confirmation and then suddenly it wasn’t.

It never sat right with me.

The records room was in the far corner, past the broken copy machine and the water stain on the ceiling. I used the key I wasn’t supposed to have to open it up.

Inside, the air dropped ten degrees. Rows of gray filing cabinets lined the walls, each one labeled by year and case number.

Reyes, A. Reyes, M. 2018.

The folder was thin. I began flipping through.

Police report: 3 pages.

Coroner’s report: 1 page.

Photos: none.

Witness statements: none.

That wasn’t normal for a fatal crash, not even for a closed case.

I flipped through it under the dim light. The handwriting in the margins didn’t match the original officer’s.

It was a completely different ink. Someone had gone back in later with a red pen and added notes.

I pulled two more boxes. One evidence log had a red stamp across it: "REDACTED - FEDERAL AUTHORITY." It read

Federal authority didn’t handle traffic accidents in this county. They didn’t show up unless it was bigger.

My hands were shaking by the time I got to the last file. A sealed manila envelope tucked in the back behind the folder. The seal was broken and resealed with different tape.

Inside was a single photograph of a car in a garage with fluorescent lights overhead. The hood was up and there were clear tool marks on the brake lines.

They were fresh cuts, someone had sliced them.

There was a second photo underneath it. Same garage but with two men in suits standing by the car, talking.

I recognized one of them. He worked for Kingsley Industries’ private security division eight years ago.

I put everything back exactly how I found it. I wiped the cabinets down and left the way I came. My chest felt like it was full of broken glass.

If the crash never happened, then Helena’s parents didn’t die in an accident.

Which meant whoever killed them was still out there.

And if they were looking for the Reyes family once, they were probably looking for Helena now.

I called her before I even got to my car.

“I found something,” I said. “We need to break into a storage unit.”

HELENA POV

The storage unit was on the edge of town, past the old rail yard. Unit 14B.

I didn’t know it existed until I found the key. It was in my mom’s old jewelry box, taped to the bottom with yellowing tape. A small brass key with a tag that said "NOT FOR ME" in my dad’s handwriting.

Victor was already there when Jarrett and I pulled up. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“This is illegal,” Jarrett said, but he was already pulling bolt cutters from the trunk.

“Everything about the last month has been illegal,” Victor replied.

The unit door screeched when we opened it. The smell of paper and cold metal hit me immediately. The space was bigger than I expected. Boxes stacked to the ceiling. A table in the corner covered in a tarp.

“Your parents were busy,” Jarrett said quietly.

We started with the boxes closest to the door.

The first one was full of research journals. My dad’s handwriting. It was pages and pages of notes about genetics, mutations, and something circled over and over in red.

There were diagrams of DNA strands with notes in the margins.

The second box had maps that looked hand-drawn. The locations were marked in red all across the state but just one spot was circled three times. There were photographs of wolves, dozens of them.

These wolves didn't look normal, they were bigger, their shoulders were too high.

Their eyes reflected light in the wrong manner, like they had a second pupil. Some of them were in cages. Some were running through snow. One photo showed my dad standing next to one, his hand on its head like it was a dog. The wolf was looking at the camera.

And then the files. My name was on one of them.

HELENA REYES

DOB: 03/17

STATUS: LATENT

NOTES: DO NOT ENGAGE UNTIL PHASE 3. MONITOR ONLY.

Latent. I turned the word over in my head. It felt wrong in my mouth.

“Latent what?” Jarrett asked. He was flipping through another folder. This one had pictures of kids. All of them had the same note on them

Victor didn’t answer. He was already opening the last journal. It was my mom’s. I recognized the notebook instantly, the pages still smelled like her.

Most of it was science and blood samples.

And then near the end, one entry. Dated two weeks before the crash. The ink was shaky, like her hand had been trembling.

"If they find Helena before she awakens, we're all dead."

Below it, in my dad’s handwriting:

"They know. We have to move her tonight. The wolves won’t stop until they have her. Tell Victor. He’s the only one we trust."

The basement light flickered.

I looked up at Victor. His face had gone pale.

“Did you know?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not about you. About them. They came to me a month before it happened. They said if anything happened to them, I had to keep you safe. I thought they meant "from creditors.”

Jarrett was already at the door, listening.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

Outside, something sounded like footsteps moved.

Victor put a finger to his lips.

From the dark beyond the metal door, we heard a low growl.

And then a voice that was muffled but clear.

“Check the lock. She’s in there. The boss wants her tonight.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear it.

The key in my hand was suddenly burning hot. I dropped it. It clattered to the concrete.

Victor grabbed the journals and shoved them into a bag. Jarrett moved to the back of the unit where there was a small vent.

"We have to leave now." Jarett said quietly as he reached for my hand.