Chapter 4: COMING THROUGH

The thrift store smelled like rotting garbage and old rain.

Detective Nolan ducked under the sagging crime scene tape, boots crunching against cracked asphalt. He swept the parking lot with sharp eyes, every mark, every scuff cataloged without a word. Even the dust patterns didn’t escape him, patches where footprints had disturbed the grime, small places too clean for coincidence.

Around the perimeter, Martha prowled in civilian clothes, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets. Her gaze flickered to the busted street-lamp by the entrance, then to the CCTV cameras....dead, black-eyed, useless. She frowned and kept moving, restless energy tightening her shoulders.

Inside the store, the cashier watched her from behind the counter with the wide-eyed stillness of a trapped rabbit. She asked questions. He answered. Polite. Nervous. Too polished. By the time she stepped back outside, her mouth was a thin, angry line.

Nolan glanced up as she approached.

"I just ran through the store's CCTV," she said, voice low and tense. "Nothing suspicious. No victim. No perpetrator. The guy behind the counter swears he never saw anything."

She hesitated, her jaw ticking.

"But anybody can be a murderer," she muttered.

Nolan straightened from where he crouched by the crime scene, something flickering behind his sharp gaze.

"The store attendant?" he asked, already knowing the answer wasn't that simple.

Martha shrugged. "I'm not buying it. He’s clean on the cameras, but my gut’s not fooled."

Nolan stared across the lot, piecing it together.

"This wasn't random," he said finally, peeling off his gloves with slow, careful movements. "This was deliberate."

Martha blinked. "Meaning?"

"This was a show," Nolan said, stepping out of the taped-off area. "They wanted the body found."

She caught up to him, heart hammering faster. "Why here?"

"Message," he said simply. "We just don't know who it’s for yet."

They moved to the car in heavy silence. As they slid inside, Martha pulled out her phone and held it out.

"I found this by the dumpster," she said.

Nolan leaned in. The photo showed a bracelet, deep-blue leather, bloodstained, with a small silver insignia etched into it.

His brows drew together. He didn’t recognize the mark, but Martha's face tightened like she did.

"That's not just any bracelet," she said grimly. "It’s from a private fight club uptown. Underground. Invitation only."

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been?"

"Fought there once," Martha said, cracking her knuckles absently. "Before the badge."

Nolan's mouth curved into a grin, dark with mischief.

"Think you still have enough pull to get us inside?"

Martha smiled back, slow and dangerous. "I know a guy."

"Then let’s get to work," Nolan said, firing up the engine.

Meanwhile,

The farmhouse slept under a heavy, restless sky. The wind whistled softly through the walls, its mournful breath the only sound breaking the stillness. Moonlight pooled across the wooden floors, casting long, crooked shadows.

Emilia's grandparents slept soundly in their room, slow breathing steady.

Asher lay sprawled on the worn couch downstairs, deep in dreamless sleep.

And outside, at the tree line, something watched.

Victor leaned against the rough bark of an old oak, arms folded across his broad chest. His eyes never left her.

Emilia.

She stood on the porch, hugging herself against the night chill. Her hair stirred in the breeze, loose strands catching the moonlight.

Victor inhaled slowly. The bond pulled at him... ancient, primal, merciless. He could feel her even from here... a burning thread winding through his ribs, dragging his heart into a slow, aching twist.

His mate.

Chosen by fate. Promised by blood.

She was his.

And yet... she didn’t know. Not fully. Not yet.

Victor's fists tightened at his sides.

It should’ve been simple. If not for Max Rutherford.... Her father, standing in the way. Clinging to old promises and old fears. If not for Asher, that mutt who dared to get close to her.

Victor’s lip curled into a silent snarl.

He hadn’t wanted to kill Max. Not truly. But Max had drawn blood first, roaring defiance, trying to shield Emilia behind broken glass and mangled steel.

Victor still remembered the crash.. The screech of tires, the sharp tang of blood in the air, the way Max had dragged her from the wreck and tried to spirit her away even as he bled out.

Victor could’ve ended it quickly.

But he hadn’t. Not then.

Because part of him... the savage, ancient part... had wanted her to choose him freely.

Now that patience frayed with every heartbeat.

The blood feud between the Rutherfords and his pack ran deep. Old betrayals. Old debts never paid. Max had defied a bond that was older than law, older than kings.

Victor watched her shiver on the porch, her eyes flickering toward the woods, some buried instinct warning her she wasn’t alone.

He almost stepped forward.

Almost.

But a soft rustle behind him made him freeze.

A shape emerged from the trees.... smaller, faster. A wolf in half-form, half-shadow.

"My Alpha," it murmured, bowing low.

Victor didn’t turn.

"Report," he growled.

"The girl is restless. The boy... weaker than we thought. The others wait for your command."

Victor smiled without warmth.

"Let them wait," he said softly. "She’ll come to me. In time."

"And if she doesn't?" the wolf asked, voice wary.

Victor's eyes flared gold under the rising blood-moon.

"Then we remind her," he said. "What happens when you run from fate."

The wolf bowed again and vanished into the trees.

Victor stayed a moment longer, drinking in the sight of her, the way she hugged herself against the cold, the lost look in her eyes.

Soon, he thought.

Soon she would have no one else to run to.

Not Asher. Not her blood. Not even herself.

Victor turned and melted back into the forest, the shadows swallowing him whole.

The night rose behind him like a dark tide and a shiver ran down Emilia's spine, sharp and sudden, as if invisible fingers had brushed against the edge of her soul.

She stepped back inside without knowing why.

Inside the farmhouse, Emilia wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake the sudden chill clawing up her spine.

Her heart beat faster, faster... As if answering a call she couldn’t hear.

Somewhere beyond the trees, something fierce and ancient was reaching for her.

And soon, it would find her.