CHAPTER 2 THE ALPHA’S INTERROGATION

Seren Vale had learned three things about powerful men.

They hated unanswered questions.

They hated being lied to.

And they hated women who could do both without lowering their eyes.

Alpha Ronan Thorne, apparently, was no exception.

“Your real name is Seren Vale.”

It was not a question.

Seren sat across from him in a private examination room, her hands resting on the polished table between them. Two guards stood outside the closed door. A silver clock ticked against the silence, marking every second she spent inside a building she had sworn never to enter again.

She glanced at the photograph he had placed before her.

Her name stared back at her.

Beneath it was the sentence that had kept her awake since the previous night.

THE LAST WITNESS MUST NOT REMEMBER.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“I ask the questions.”

“Then ask a better one.”

Ronan’s expression remained unchanged, but something in his eyes sharpened.

“Fine. Why did you lie about your identity?”

“Because people who know my real name tend to ask questions I don’t want to answer.”

“You mean people who remember the massacre?”

Seren’s fingers curled beneath the table.

There it was.

Eleven years reduced to one word.

Massacre.

She had spent years trying to build a life that did not begin with the night her family was destroyed. She had learned to keep her head down, to avoid pack territory, and to leave whenever someone asked too many questions about her childhood.

Yet here she was, sitting across from the son of the man who had signed her family’s death sentence.

“Your father declared my family guilty before anyone had a chance to defend themselves,” she said. “Forgive me if I’m not eager to introduce myself.”

Ronan did not look away.

“My father’s decisions are not mine.”

“No. But you’re still benefiting from them.”

The silence that followed was different from the ones before it.

For the first time, Ronan seemed to consider her answer rather than prepare his next question.

“You believe my father was involved in the murders.”

“I believe he knows more than he admits.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

“No. It’s why I’m still asking questions.”

Ronan leaned back slightly.

“You returned to the capital eleven years after your family was declared dead. On the same night a council official was murdered. Your fingerprint was found on an artifact connected to the massacre.”

“I didn’t touch the seal.”

“Then explain the fingerprint.”

“I can’t.”

“Won’t?”

“Can’t.”

Her answer came too quickly, and she knew he noticed.

Ronan opened a thin folder.

“Your family’s records were sealed after the massacre. Most were destroyed during the transfer of council archives. The surviving documents list you as deceased.”

“Convenient.”

“For whom?”

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“By reading the records your council has spent eleven years hiding.”

A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth.

“You make it sound simple.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy.”

“Then perhaps you should start by telling me why you came back.”

Seren looked at the clock.

She could tell him that she had received an anonymous letter three weeks earlier. That the letter contained a photograph of her mother standing beside a man whose face had been burned away. That the message beneath it had been written in her mother’s handwriting.

The truth survived. Find the seal.

She could tell him that she had followed the letter across three territories, only to discover that its sender had disappeared before she arrived.

But Ronan Thorne was not someone she could trust with the truth.

Not yet.

“I came to find a record,” she said.

“Which record?”

“The original succession ledger from the night the seven Alphas died.”

Ronan went still.

It was the first genuine reaction she had drawn from him.

Seren filed it away.

“You know it exists,” she said.

“I know several records were lost during the archive transfer.”

“Lost?”

“Destroyed, according to the official report.”

“Then why did you react when I mentioned it?”

“Because you’re asking about a document that has been missing for eleven years, and you’re doing so in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“Maybe the two are connected.”

“Maybe.” Ronan closed the folder. “Or maybe you’re trying to direct my attention away from your involvement in Aldric Fen’s death.”

Seren stood.

“If you think I killed him, charge me.”

The guards outside shifted at the sound of her chair scraping across the floor.

Ronan remained seated.

“You think I need a charge to keep you here?”

“No. I think you need evidence to justify it.”

His gaze held hers.

“You’re right.”

The unexpected admission made her pause.

Ronan stood and walked to the door. He opened it, spoke quietly to the guards, and sent them away.

When he turned back, the room felt smaller.

“I have no proof that you killed Aldric Fen,” he said. “I also have no proof that you’re innocent.”

“Then we agree on something.”

“But I have reason to believe someone wanted you here.”

Seren’s pulse quickened.

“Why?”

“Because the message beneath your name was not part of the original photograph.”

She stared at him.

“What?”

“The handwriting was added after the image was printed. Whoever left it knew we would identify you.”

“And you think they wanted me arrested?”

“I think they wanted me to find you.”

The room seemed to tilt around her.

Someone had known she would return.

Someone had placed the seal beside Aldric Fen’s body.

Someone had made certain her name would be the first thing Ronan saw.

“Then we’re wasting time questioning each other,” Seren said. “We should be looking for whoever set this up.”

“We are.”

“No. You’re investigating the murder. I’m trying to find out why my family was destroyed. Those may be the same investigation, but you haven’t decided that yet.”

Ronan studied her for several seconds.

“You want access to the archives.”

“I want access to the original records.”

“They’re restricted.”

“Of course they are.”

“And you expect me to make an exception?”

“I expect you to decide whether you want the truth more than you want control.”

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.

Seren knew she had pushed too far.

She did not regret it.

Finally, Ronan returned to the table and gathered the photographs.

“You will have supervised access to the surviving records,” he said. “You will not remove anything, and you will not enter a restricted area without my authorization.”

“And in exchange?”

“You answer my questions honestly.”

She almost laughed.

“You first.”

His expression hardened.

“Careful, Seren.”

The sound of her real name in his voice sent a strange sensation through her chest.

She hated that she noticed.

She hated even more that some part of her wanted to hear it again.

“I'm always careful,” she replied.

“No,” Ronan said quietly. “You're always prepared to run.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he opened the door.

“Come with me.”

---

The records room occupied the eastern wing of the council building. Its walls were lined with shelves of leather-bound volumes, sealed boxes, and metal cabinets marked with the symbols of the seven original packs.

Aldric Fen had been responsible for maintaining the collection.

Now he was dead, and every record he had touched had become potential evidence.

Seren walked slowly between the shelves, taking in the labels.

Thorne.

Voss.

Merrow.

Vale.

She stopped.

Her family name had been written on a narrow metal cabinet near the back wall.

The lock had been replaced recently.

“Who ordered this cabinet sealed?” she asked.

Ronan checked the label.

“According to the record, the order came from the High Council eleven years ago.”

“Who signed it?”

He examined the lower edge.

“Garrick Thorne.”

Seren felt something cold settle in her stomach.

His father had not merely declared her family guilty. He had personally ordered their records sealed.

“Open it,” she said.

“I'll need authorization from the council archivist.”

“Then get it.”

“Seren—”

“Your father signed the order. Your council has kept my family’s history locked away for eleven years. If there’s nothing to hide, opening a cabinet should be the easiest thing you do today.”

Ronan’s jaw tightened.

Then he called for the archivist.

While they waited, Seren examined the cabinets beside hers. Several had been opened and resealed. Dust had gathered along the edges, except for one narrow drawer that looked almost new.

She pulled it open.

Inside lay a single sheet of paper.

No title.

No official stamp.

Only seven names written in black ink.

Seren recognized three immediately.

Aldric Fen.

Garrick Thorne.

Elias Vale.

Her father’s name had been crossed out.

Beside it, someone had written a date.

The date of the massacre.

But beneath the date was another entry, almost hidden by a crease in the paper.

A second date.

One day earlier.

Seren stared at it.

The official records said the first Alpha had died during the council meeting, eleven years ago. Every report she had ever seen repeated the same date.

Yet this document suggested the death had occurred before the meeting even began.

“Ronan.”

He turned at the sound of her voice.

She held out the paper.

He read it once.

Then again.

The careful stillness returned to his face, but Seren saw his fingers tighten around the edge.

“Where did you find this?”

“In a drawer that wasn't listed in the archive inventory.”

Ronan looked at the cabinet.

“Don't touch anything else.”

“Why?”

“Because someone has been here recently.”

He took the paper from her and examined the crease.

A faint impression had been pressed into the lower corner. Seren leaned closer.

It was the outline of a wolf.

Not one of the seven symbols on the Silver Seal.

A different wolf, its head lowered beneath a crescent moon.

Ronan's expression changed.

“Do you recognize it?” she asked.

He folded the paper carefully.

“No.”

She knew he was lying.

Not because she could read his mind, but because his right hand had closed around the paper with the instinctive protectiveness of someone who had just found a weapon pointed at his own family.

“Who does that symbol belong to?” Seren asked.

Ronan looked at her.

“That's what we're going to find out.”

---

That evening, Seren returned to the west guest quarters with a copy of the document and more questions than answers.

The guards remained outside her door. The windows were locked, and the corridor was quiet.

She sat at the desk and unfolded the paper again.

Seven names.

One crossed out.

Two dates.

And a symbol no official record acknowledged.

She traced the outline without touching the ink.

For an instant, she remembered a small hand wrapped around hers.

Her mother's voice.

A door slamming shut.

Then nothing.

The memory vanished before she could grasp it.

Seren pressed her fingers against her temples.

She had come back for the truth.

But someone had been preparing for her return long before she crossed the capital's gates.

A knock sounded at the door.

She folded the paper and slipped it beneath the lining of her bag.

“Who is it?”

“Captain Hale.”

She opened the door a fraction.

The captain stood alone, holding a sealed envelope.

“This was delivered for you.”

“By whom?”

“No one saw the messenger.”

Seren stared at the envelope.

Her name was written across the front.

Not Elena Ward.

Seren Vale.

The handwriting was familiar.

Her mother's.

With trembling fingers, she broke the seal.

Inside was a single sentence.

THE FIRST ALPHA WAS ALREADY DEAD WHEN YOUR FATHER ENTERED THE ROOM.

Beneath it was a second line.

ASK RONAN WHAT HIS FATHER DID AFTERWARD.