Chapter Sixty: The Wolf They Wanted Me to See

I checked my pocket again.

Empty.

The carved wooden wolf was gone.

I searched every pocket of my coat.

Nothing.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

"I had it."

Marcus looked confused.

"You definitely did."

"I saw him put it in his pocket," Inspector Mara Voss said.

Ronan's eyes never left the television.

"Quiet."

Everyone turned back to the live broadcast.

Lucien Cross stood before a forest of microphones outside the Central Justice Complex. Reporters crowded against the security barricades while cameras transmitted every word across the country.

Beside him, my father remained in handcuffs.

His expression hadn't changed.

He still wore that infuriatingly calm smile.

Lucien accepted the small wooden wolf from the security officer.

He held it between two fingers so every camera could see it.

"This item," he announced, "was recovered during the arrest of Sebastian Vale."

A murmur spread through the reporters.

"It is evidence connected to an ongoing criminal investigation."

I felt anger rising in my chest.

Evidence?

That wolf had once belonged to two children.

It had survived erased memories, broken friendships, and twenty years of lies.

Now it was being displayed as if it were nothing more than another exhibit.

Lucien continued.

"Some objects have sentimental value."

He slowly rotated the carving.

"Others unlock dangerous secrets."

The cameras zoomed in.

I instinctively leaned closer to the screen.

Something bothered me.

The carving looked identical.

The shape.

The scratches.

The worn ears.

Almost perfect.

Almost.

Ronan suddenly smiled.

"There."

"What?"

"The left paw."

I narrowed my eyes.

A tiny notch had been carved into the wolf's front left paw.

The one on television...

Didn't have it.

My pulse slowed.

"That's not ours."

Marcus looked back and forth between us.

"What?"

"The carving's different."

I pointed at the screen.

"The original had a chip in the paw."

Ronan nodded.

"And the tail."

"The tail?"

"It curved slightly to the right."

He looked at me.

"You used to complain that it couldn't stand upright."

Another fragment.

Not a full memory.

Just enough.

I remembered trying to balance the little wolf on a windowsill.

It kept falling over.

Then Ivy laughing as Ronan insisted,

"He's supposed to be running."

The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.

I looked back at the screen.

"It's a copy."

Lucien wasn't holding the real wolf.

He was holding a replica.

But why?

As if answering the question, Ivy quietly spoke from her chair.

"Because he doesn't know which one matters."

Everyone looked at her.

She was pale, but her voice had regained some strength.

"When children treasure something..."

She smiled faintly.

"They lose it."

Marcus frowned.

"What?"

"They make another."

My eyes widened.

"There were two."

"No."

She corrected gently.

"There were five."

Silence.

"Five?"

She nodded.

"You insisted every explorer needed a spare."

Despite everything, Ronan laughed.

A genuine laugh this time.

"That sounds like you."

"It does."

I couldn't help smiling.

For one brief moment, the library felt less like a battlefield and more like a place where two boys had once hidden treasures between bookshelves.

The moment passed.

Lucien's voice drew our attention back to the broadcast.

"Chairman Adrian Vale."

He looked directly into the nearest camera.

"I know you're watching."

The room became still.

"I also know what you're searching for."

He placed the wooden wolf on the podium.

"If you want this back..."

He paused deliberately.

"...come to me."

Marcus scoffed.

"Obvious trap."

"Very."

Inspector Voss folded her arms.

"So why announce it publicly?"

I answered before anyone else could.

"Because this message isn't for me."

Ronan looked at me with quiet approval.

"It's for everyone else."

I nodded.

"He wants the world to believe I care more about a toy than a murder investigation."

"He's shaping your image."

"Exactly."

Impulsive.

Emotional.

Predictable.

Everything Lucien wanted investors and the board to think.

My father's eyes suddenly shifted.

Not toward Lucien.

Not toward the reporters.

Toward the wooden wolf.

Then...

Almost imperceptibly...

He blinked twice.

Paused.

Then blinked once more.

Ronan inhaled sharply.

"You saw it."

"I did."

Marcus frowned.

"Saw what?"

"My father."

"He blinked."

"So?"

"Not randomly."

The rhythm echoed in my memory.

Two.

Pause.

One.

My father had taught me dozens of silent signals as a child during long board meetings where speaking wasn't possible.

Most had faded with time.

One had not.

Two blinks.

Pause.

One blink.

Wrong piece.

I smiled despite myself.

"He knows it's fake."

Ronan's grin matched mine.

"And he wanted you to know he knows."

Across the television screen, Lucien concluded his statement.

"Mr. Vale."

He rested one hand on the podium.

"You have until tomorrow morning."

"After that..."

His expression remained perfectly composed.

"...I will begin opening the boxes your father left behind."

The broadcast ended.

The room fell silent once more.

Marcus looked at me.

"What boxes?"

I slowly turned toward the legacy box resting on the reading table.

Then toward the endless shelves surrounding us.

My father had hidden more than one inheritance.

How many...

No one knew.

Before anyone could speak again, the silver ring on my finger grew unexpectedly warm.

Not painfully.

Gently.

A soft metallic click echoed somewhere above us.

Every head tilted upward.

High on the second-floor gallery, one ordinary bookshelf slowly swung open by itself.

Behind it...

A narrow staircase spiraled upward into a level that hadn't appeared on any blueprint.

Ivy's eyes widened.

Her voice became almost a whisper.

"No..."

"What is it?" I asked.

She stared at the hidden staircase in disbelief.

"I've guarded this library for forty years."

A long silence followed.

"That room..."

She looked at me with astonishment.

"...has never opened before."