FAZER LOGINNobody spoke after that. The archive seemed to inhale around us.Even the guards near the door had gone perfectly still, like instinct alone told them they had just heard something they were never supposed to hear."So they killed him." The words kept echoing in my head.Cameron’s father hadn’t died because of politics. He had been removed. Because he knew. And somehow, impossibly, Cameron stayed standing through that revelation like the floor beneath him hadn’t just cracked open.Only his eyes betrayed him. I didn't saw grief., but calculation. Fast. Cold. Dangerous.He was already rebuilding the past in his head. Reexamining every story. Every missing detail. Every silence that had never made sense before.Elias shifted suddenly in the containment chair. The restraints rattled softly. Instantly every guard tensed. Cameron’s attention snapped back to him.“Easy,” he said.The command settled through the room automatically. Controlled. Firm. And Elias obeyed. That frightened me more t
By the time we secured Elias, the archive no longer looked like a records room. It looked like a battlefield. Shelves lay twisted across the floor. Papers covered the stone like snowdrifts. One wall had cracked where Elias slammed into it, exposing dark lines beneath the concrete.And in the center of it all sat a man who should not have existed.Elias leaned against the reinforced containment chair Cameron’s guards had brought down from the upper level. Heavy steel restraints locked around his wrists and chest - not because Cameron believed Elias was a monster, but because nobody in the room trusted whatever had been built inside him. Not even Elias himself.He sat bent forward slightly, breathing unevenly. Human again. Mostly. But every now and then his fingers twitched like invisible strings were pulling at them.Mara stood near the broken shelves with an ice pack pressed against her shoulder, glaring at anyone who looked at her too long.“I’m fine,” she snapped for the fourth time
The moment Cameron stepped into the archive, the entire room changed. Even my wolf felt it. The pressure of an Alpha rolled through the broken shelves and scattered files like a storm front. Heavy. Controlled. Ancient in a way power rarely was anymore.Elias froze. Not for long. But long enough for me to notice. His body had moved with relentless precision since the moment he broke. Every reaction immediate. Violent. Programmed.Now there was hesitation. Small. But there.Cameron noticed it too. Of course he did. His gaze swept over the room once - Mara against the wall trying to catch her breath, me still in wolf form between Elias and everyone else, overturned shelves scattered across the floor. Then his attention settled fully on Elias. And stayed there.Elias twitched violently. Like something inside him had just received conflicting orders. “Command presence identified,” he said. The mechanical tone was back. But weaker now. Strained.Cameron stepped forward slowly. Not threaten
Clara POV “Command recognized.”The voice that came from Elias wasn’t his anymore. It was smooth. Flat. Too precise. Like it had been carved out of him and replaced with something that didn’t breathe.Mara took a step back. “Clara… that’s not him.”“I know,” I said. But it was still his body. And that was the problem. “Elias,” I said sharply. “Stop.”His head tilted slightly, as if evaluating me. Not seeing me. Processing me. Like I was part of a problem he was trying to classify.Then something inside him snapped. It wasn’t loud. Just… wrong. His fingers twitched violently at his sides. Once. Twice. Like two instructions fighting for control of the same muscle.“Elias!” Mara raised her voice.That was the mistake. His attention shifted instantly. And the restraint vanished. He moved too fast toward her. Mara barely had time to step back before he was on her.“NO!”I moved on instinct, but I was still human. Too slow.Elias grabbed Mara by the arm and slammed her into the metal shelv
The restricted section of archives is colder. Not metaphorically. Actually colder. The air here doesn’t move. It sits heavy, stale, like it hasn’t been disturbed in years.Mara doesn’t joke anymore. Good. Neither do I.The back wall is reinforced steel. Old locking system. Mechanical, not digital.“That’s… excessive,” Mara mutters.“For records?” I run my fingers along the edge of the door. “Yes. For secrets?” She glances at me. “No.”She exhales slowly. “Give me a second.”I step back, letting her work. My wolf doesn’t like this place. Not because it’s dangerous. - It's just archives. - Because it feels… wrong. Like something here survived things that shouldn’t have. Like a horriffic crime scene.Metal clicks softly under Mara’s hands. A pause. Then - thunk. The lock gives up.We exchange a look. And then we go in.The room inside is smaller. More organized. Metal cabinets line the walls, each one labeled with clean, precise tags."TRAINING COMMAND - EASTERN SECTOR" "PERSONNEL FILES
The training yard is loud. Steel striking steel. Boots grinding into packed dirt. Warriors shouting corrections across the field.Blackridge breathes war.I cross the courtyard with Tomas Voss’s photograph folded carefully in my pocket and a knot in my stomach that refuses to loosen.The elders’ visit keeps replaying in my head. Choose wisely. The words sounded like advice. But they felt like a threat.The commander’s building stands at the far edge of the yard, dark stone and heavy glass overlooking everything like a watchtower. Fitting.Cameron never liked being watched. But he always watches.As I climb the steps toward the entrance, voices drift through the slightly open door. Sharp voices. Older voices. - Council. They were quick. I must admit that. I slow instinctively.“…reckless,” someone is saying. That voice belongs to Counselor Dane. I recognize the gravelly tone. “This investigation will fracture alliances we’ve maintained for decades. It will ruin us.”Another voice join
I saw her.A pause in the room’s rhythm. A misstep in the music. Someone who didn’t belong to Blackridge’s choreography, but wasn’t Vale either.I let my gaze drift, lazy, unfocused.Near the west windows. In half-shadow. Champagne flute untouched. She stood alone, which at a summit like this was e
The doors didn’t slam shut. That was the problem.They soft-closed - quiet, coordinated, subtle enough that half the room didn’t notice. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn just a fraction closer to the walls. Security shifted positions with the casual precision of men who had done this before and exp
Oh. Perfect.Fate, apparently, had jokes. And a cruel sense of timing.Adrian stood near the far wall, half-turned toward a cluster of council affiliates. Tailored suit. Dark hair combed back with deliberate care. A glass of champagne held loosely, as if he didn’t need it.He looked exactly the sam
I felt pressure.It slid under my ribs and curled around my spine, that familiar warning hum that meant now. My wolf stirred, restless, teeth clicking in the back of my mind.“Down the hall.” I murmured. “Left. By the service stairs.”Cameron didn’t question it. He shifted - half a step, subtle but







