INICIAR SESIÓNThe charred leather portfolio was cold against my fingers, but the white paper inside felt like a branding iron. My silver eyes tracked down the unredacted lines of the original land-transfer authorization from the night of the fire, bypassing the corporate routing codes until they hit the bold, dark ink of the primary signature at the bottom. My breath caught completely in my throat. I couldn't move. I couldn't even form a word. The name written beneath the betrayal wasn't Beta Sterling. It wasn't Marcus, and it wasn't Tamara. It was Evelyn Vane. My maternal aunt. The woman who had supposedly left the pack a decade ago after a bitter dispute over her portion of the inheritance. "Aria?" Nathan’s deep baritone cut through my shock. He stepped closer, his heavy wool coat blocking the freezing wind as his dark eyes locked onto my face. "Do you recognize the signature?" "It's... it's my mother's sister," I whispered, my voice cracking as a wave of pure, dizzying disbelief washed over
The sharp, rhythmic clanging of Silverwood’s warning bells ripped through the night air, shattering the tense silence of the valley. From my cottage window, the world outside dissolved into absolute chaos. Shouts echoed across the lawns as enforcers ran toward the western perimeter, their flashlights cutting through the thick, rolling fog. The advance sensors had official confirmation: the Redfield Syndicate was breaching the border gates. I strapped my backpack tight against my shoulders, checking the loose floorboard one last time. Beneath my ribs, the chemical cage wasn't just burning anymore—it felt like a contained star, vibrating so violently against my bones that every breath I took tasted like copper. Outside, Alpha Nathan Leonardi was already barking orders, his deep baritone cutting through the panic like a blade. He moved with cold, flawless tactical precision, positioning his elite Northern warriors to anchor the main gates. Further down the lines, Beta Sterling was fran
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at the faded photograph under the dim glow of the lamp. I used a small laboratory magnifying lens from my university kit to study the figure with the scratched-out face. Around their neck was a small silver pendant, its design an intricate, specialized loop. I quickly flipped through my mother's journal, finding the exact symbol sketched in her notes—but the explanation was entirely gone, ripped away on the missing pages. My wolf reacted strangely when my thumb brushed the ink, a sharp, un-sedated throb pulsing behind my ribs, but the glass wall holding her back remained solid. I capped my pen. I didn't have full access to my power yet, but I was going to unmask that third person myself. The next morning, the heavy tension from the administrative wing followed me out to the old greenhouse paths. Nathan intercepted me near the glass doors, his large frame blocking the freezing wind. His dark eyes were filled with an intense, raw frustration.
I woke up the next morning with my head spinning and my chest feeling incredibly light. I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss in the dark archive room—the rough, desperate pull of Nathan’s coat against my fingers and the intense, burning heat that had flared behind my ribs. I had to force myself to sit up and face the cold morning air. The kiss changes nothing, I told myself, gripping the edge of my mattress. It was just the high stakes. We have an agreement, and that's it. But my own mind was a battleground. The memory of the way he held me wouldn't leave, making the sudden vulnerability feel like a weakness. My wolf was completely restless. She kept pacing against the thin glass barrier, her faint voice repeating the same chilling warning from last night: Aria... don't trust everyone who stands beside you. Across the courtyard, Nathan couldn't stop thinking about what had happened either. He spent the early hours privately questioning his chief medical specialist, trying to fig
The routine audit was over; the hunt had officially begun. Within hours of the medical scan, Nathan’s team had already descended on the main pharmacy vaults, securing every active terminal log. But as I sat on the edge of my bed, the physical specialist's report clutched in my hand, I wasn't thinking about the inspectors. I pulled my mother’s leather-bound journal from beneath the loose floorboard, quickly flipping to the pages detailing our family lineage. I scanned the faded ink, desperate to cross-reference the rare biological signature the northern scanners had flagged. My mother had written extensively about the Vane line's direct sensory connection to the silver-root soil, but as I turned the leaf, my breath hitched. The binding thread was frayed and loose. Three full pages had been cleanly, deliberately sliced out of the center of the archive. Someone had methodically removed the original explanation of our bloodline's true purpose before the chest was ever returned to me. Be
The white light of the northern examination wing felt cold and clinical compared to the yellow dust of Silverwood’s local dispensary. I walked inside at exactly eight o'clock in the morning, my fingers gripping the strap of my canvas backpack. Beneath the heavy fabric of my sweater, the university flash drive was tucked safely into a hidden inner seam. I had brought my regular biochemistry notebook in plain sight, fully prepared to document everything myself. The room was filled with high-tech northern baseline scanners—sleek, metallic arches that hummed with quiet, expensive energy. Alpha Nathan Leonardi was already there, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. He didn't interfere or bark orders; his commanding presence simply anchored the room. The lead northern specialist, a stern woman with graying hair, gestured toward the main diagnostic chair. "Please step forward, Miss Vane. We need a full receptor panel and a deep spiritual blood scan." I stopped right at the







