LOGINHey. I’m sorry that the last chapter had to be split up. But I just had to make the prose flow better for more clarity and reading experience.🔥 Chris, thank you so much for reading and always dropping comments. I love seeing them. Thank you!🥹
RHYS' POV.My legs felt heavier with every step I took down the corridor toward the Crown Prince's quarters. I only managed to force a smile at the maids that greeted me as they walked past. I woke up more tired than I had ever felt in my life. It wasn't the kind of tiredness that came from a long night, although I had spent most of mine lying still in the dark with my Rowan’s file pressed against my chest. This was something deeper, something that had settled into my bones and refused to leave, as if my whole body had quietly decided it would rather stay under the covers forever.When I came out of the bathroom, Brayden was already dressed and standing by the window, buttoning his cuffs. He turned and smiled at me, but it was the careful kind of smile you give a stranger in a hallway, and it never came anywhere near his eyes. He told me he had an early meeting with the ministers, he would also work on some things outside the palace and that I shouldn't wait for him at breakfast.
BRAYDEN'S POV.The morgue beneath Crownfang General Hospital was colder than a forest at night, and it smelled of bleach and something sweeter underneath that I didn't want to name.I stood beside the steel table with my hands buried in the pockets of my coat while the coroner folded the white sheet down to the dead man's shoulders. Ralph stood on my other side, quiet as always, a small notebook already open in his palm.I had barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that birth record again, the empty line where a father's name should have been, and the photograph of a little boy with Remus’ face. By the time the sun came up, I had made a decision. I was done waiting for Rhys to tell me the truth. If he wouldn't give it to me, I would find it myself.The coroner, a thin, gray-haired man named Dr. Pryce, had the good sense not to mention the video everyone in Crownfang had watched by now. He adjusted his glasses and lifted a clipboard from the counter."We ran his fingerprints
THIRD PERSON'S POV.Every head in the room turned towards Black Wolf’s direction."It's too soon, Mother." His voice came low and hard through the iron mask. "His body needs three months of hormone treatment before it can carry anything this strong. You would be pouring raw Primus blood straight into his veins.""I know exactly what I would be doing.""Then you know it could kill him.""It could also give us three months we do not have." Isolde's cane struck the stone floor with a crack that echoed off the walls. "In seven days, the Moonstone wakes. I need a carrier who can survive what comes after it, and I need him now. For years I begged you to take a mate. You finally did. Now he will be useful to us, or he will be nothing."Black Wolf said nothing, but the hand on Caelan's hip had curled into a fist.Caelan looked from one of them to the other. Then he reached up and laid his palm flat against the cold iron of his mate's mask, just over the place where his cheek would be."Hey,"
THIRD PERSON'S POV.The iron door of the underground chamber opened and a man in a dark gray hoodie stepped inside. Rain dripped from his sleeves onto the stone. The torches along the walls hissed. Their light slid across the long wooden table and the five people seated around it.The man walked to the head of the table, sank to one knee before the veiled woman, and lowered his head."Madam."Isolde didn't look at him. Her gloved hands rested on the silver head of her cane. Black lace hung from the brim of her hat, hiding everything but the pale, sharp line of her chin."You're late.""Forgive me, Madam. I had to make sure I wasn't followed."He pulled a bundle wrapped in a white handkerchief from his hoodie and unfolded it in both palms, like an offering.A syringe.At the far end of the table, Black Wolf straightened in his chair.Isolde reached out with two gloved fingers and lifted the syringe from the handkerchief. She turned it slowly in the torchlight."Tell them," she said."A
THIRD PERSON'S POV.Twenty minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and steam rolled out into the bedroom. Brayden stepped out in a pair of gray sweatpants, a towel slung around his neck, his hair still dripping onto his bare shoulders.In his hand was a plain manila folder.Rhys was curled on the sofa in the sitting area by the window, his phone clutched in both hands, still waiting for Richard to reply. He looked up. And color drained from his face.Brayden walked over and held the folder out to him."This fell out of your bag in the car," he said. "When we dropped Richard off. I picked it up so it wouldn't get lost."Rhys stared at it.At the white label on the tab. At his own handwriting.ROWAN MELBOURNE.His hands didn't want to move. When they finally did, they were shaking. He took the folder and pressed it flat against his chest, as if Brayden might snatch it back."You..." His voice cracked. "You had it?""Don't worry." Brayden smiled. "I never opened it."Rhys let out a long
THIRD PERSON'S POV.Rhys was still pressing his fingers to his aching temples when he walked back into the bedroom. His work bag lay on the edge of the bed where he had left it. After the chase, the driver picked it up from the pavement outside the pharmacy and handed it back to him without a word, and Rhys was too shaken to even look inside.Since the day he moved to Crownfang Pack, Rowan's file had lived in the locked bottom drawer of his office desk. It was the safest place he had. But with everything happening lately, he had decided that morning to bring it home and hide it somewhere no one would ever think to look.He unzipped the bag and reached for the inner pocket.His fingers met nothing.Rhys frowned and pushed his hand deeper. Notebooks. Pens. His charger. A crumpled receipt.No file.His heart began to pound.He turned the bag upside down and shook everything out onto the bed. Notebooks slapped against the sheets. Pens rolled off the edge and onto the floor. His wallet. H







