Chapter 2

Zyra's pov~

“Everything you know about your life is probably a lie.”

The woman says it like she is trying to soften the impact. It doesn’t work at all.

I stare at her across the table, waiting for something else to follow that will make it make sense.

There’s a file sitting in front of her with my name is written on it.

Zyra Voss.

I’ve seen it written before on school forms and old report cards. It never meant anything more than identification. Now it feels like there might be another use for it.

“I know this is a lot,” she continues gently. “But we’re going to walk through it step by step, okay?” Can she speak faster or something?

I don’t answer. She waits like she expects me to. When I don’t, she exhales quietly and opens the file.

“You were placed with your foster parents when you were three years old,” she says. “At the time, it was recorded as a standard placement.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, watching my reaction.

“However,” she continues, her voice tightening slightly, “new information has come to light.” New information.

She slides a paper toward me but I don’t touch it. Carefully eyeing it, I look back at her.

“I need you to understand something,” she says carefully. “You were never meant to stay there permanently.”

My fingers curl slightly against my lap. Very funny because I don't recall seeing anybody get me out of there for years..

“Your case was flagged recently,” she goes on. “Records were re-examined. There were inconsistencies and missing documentation. It triggered a deeper investigation.”

I focus on her voice and not the meaning of her words. It is easier and safer that way.

“And what they found…” she pauses, choosing her next words carefully, “is that you weren’t abandoned.”

Oh-

“You were reported missing.”

The room starts to become hot for me. I blink slowly.

“That’s not possible,” I say.

“You were reported missing at the age of three,” she repeats softly. “There was an active case. It was never closed.” I shake my head before I can stop myself.

“No,” I say again, firmer this time. “That’s not… that doesn’t make sense.”

Because it doesn’t. People don’t just forget they had a family. They don’t wake up one day in a different place and never question it or maybe they do.

Maybe I did.

“They’ve been looking for you,” she says.

“They?” I ask.

“Your biological family.”

I look away from her, staring at the wall instead. It is blank, safe and lacks surprises.

“They filed multiple reports,” she continues. “Private investigators. Legal pressure. It’s one of the reasons your case was reopened. It never went cold on their end.”

My chest feels tight. I don’t know why. The woman closes the file gently.

“We’re still verifying everything,” she says. “But all evidence points to the same conclusion.”

“You were taken.”

I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t work.

“What happens now?” I ask. The question comes out quieter than I expect. She leans forward slightly, her expression softening again.

“For now, you’ll remain under temporary custody,” she says. “We’re arranging a transfer.”

“Transfer,” I repeat.

“To your family.”

I don’t react. I don’t know how to.

She studies me for a moment, like she’s waiting for something. A reaction. A question. Anything. I give her nothing. Eventually, she nods to herself and stands up.

“Someone will come get you shortly,” she says. “Try to rest if you can.”

Rest. The word almost makes me laugh. She leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her leaving me to my thoughts.

I sit there for a while, staring at nothing.

When the door opens again, I don't pay attention as voices drift in.

“High-profile family,” one of them says.

Could it be-

“They want discretion,” another replies. “No media involvement.”

“Of course. With their name? That was never going to be an option.”

I finally look up but for some reason, they don’t notice.

“They’ve already arranged private transport,” the first voice continues. “They insisted.”

Insisted.

“They want her brought in as soon as possible,” the second voice says. “No delays.” I look away again before they notice me listening.

My hands feel cold. I don’t know these people or anything about them yet they want me there immediately. I really feel like vomiting my guts out...

~~

They gave me a bed to stay in for the night. Unfortunately, I'm in a room with some other girls.

I go straight to my bed and lay there until lights out. I try to sleep off but I can't get my mind to rest for even a bit.

Memories from the day start rushing back and whilst trying to not cry, I hear a low growl that snaps my head up.

I don't see anyone awake near me so it doesn't look like they heard anything.

"Maybe I imagined it. I really need to get some sleep for real."

Then it comes back.

A low, rough sound that sounds dangerous enough for me to run from this room.

It's a growl. My breath stops as I look around quickly. The other girls are still sleeping. No one else is hearing it. That doesn’t make sense.

I swing my legs off the bed slowly, standing.

The sound fades as I stay still, listening. I press my hand against my chest, trying to calm myself.

“It’s nothing,” I whisper under my breath. It has to be. There’s no source for such a sound except one of the girls are playing a prank.

The moment my body settles, it comes again..My head snaps up. However, this time, it doesn’t sound distant.

It doesn’t sound like it’s in the room. It sounds-

Oh shit... It sounds like it’s right next to me.

No, not next to me. Inside ME.

I freeze completely, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear through my chest.

The growl lingers, low and steady, vibrating through me. I press my hand harder against my chest and for the first time that night, real fear settles in.

I think I'm in deep shit.