Chapter 29: The Child Among Wolves

The unfinished house was silent.

Outside, darkness had settled over Nakuru.

Construction materials cast strange shadows beneath the moonlight.

Wind whispered through open window frames.

Yet Alex barely noticed.

His entire attention remained fixed on the phone screen.

The document before him felt impossible.

Wrong.

Terrifying.

He read the sentence again.

Then again.

Then a fourth time.

Still, the words remained unchanged.

SUBJECT THREE SUCCESSFULLY INTEGRATED.

Alex swallowed.

The next line made his pulse accelerate.

Raised within organizational control. Identity successfully altered.

His stomach tightened.

One of the stolen children hadn't escaped.

Hadn't disappeared.

Hadn't been hidden.

They had been raised by the very people behind Project Ashes.

The implications were horrifying.

Twenty-six years.

An entire life built on manipulation.

An entire identity manufactured.

Alex scrolled further.

Unfortunately, most of the information remained redacted.

Names hidden.

Photographs removed.

Locations erased.

Whoever created the file had been careful.

Very careful.

Then one detail caught his attention.

A date.

Twenty years ago.

An update entry.

Subject displays exceptional intelligence and loyalty.

Alex frowned.

Loyalty.

Not love.

Not family.

Loyalty.

The language sounded less like a child and more like an asset.

A project.

A weapon.

His blood ran cold.

Because suddenly he understood something.

The third child might not even know the truth.

Might genuinely believe they belonged to the organization.

Might genuinely be working for the people who stole them.

A frightening thought.

A terrifying thought.

Then the phone vibrated.

Alex nearly dropped it.

A text message.

Unknown sender.

Again.

Only three words appeared.

LEAVE IMMEDIATELY.

Alex froze.

A second message followed.

THEY FOUND YOU.

Three hundred meters away, a black SUV rolled slowly through the construction estate.

Its headlights remained off.

Four men occupied the vehicle.

Professional.

Armed.

Patient.

One of them studied a tablet.

"The signal originated here."

The driver nodded.

"How many houses?"

The man looked out the window.

Rows and rows of unfinished structures stretched into darkness.

"Too many."

The driver smiled.

"We start checking."

At the safe house, Obadiah's security meeting was becoming increasingly tense.

A digital map filled the screen.

Several markers appeared across Nakuru.

Security concerns.

Surveillance sightings.

Suspicious activity.

Potential threats.

Patricia sat quietly beside him.

Listening.

Learning.

The billionaire pointed toward a highlighted zone.

"This area concerns me."

One of the security officers nodded.

"We've observed unfamiliar vehicles operating there repeatedly."

Patricia leaned forward.

"What area is that?"

The answer came immediately.

"Near Alison's office."

Silence.

Obadiah's jaw tightened.

Patricia's heart sank.

There it was.

Proof.

Someone was watching Alison.

Not casually.

Deliberately.

The billionaire immediately stood.

"I'm moving her."

Patricia looked up.

"Will she agree?"

The old man almost laughed.

"No."

"Then?"

"We convince her."

The seriousness in his voice made it clear.

This wasn't optional anymore.

The game had changed.

Meanwhile, Chief Inspector Bethwel Kanda sat alone reviewing financial records.

The deeper he dug, the uglier things became.

Several shell companies had appeared repeatedly.

Money moved through them.

Millions of shillings.

Hidden transactions.

Property purchases.

Bribes.

Then one company name appeared again.

And again.

And again.

The officer frowned.

Because he recognized the company.

It belonged to Fiona Lawama.

Not publicly.

Indirectly.

But the trail existed.

The problem?

Evidence and proof were two different things.

And Bethwel needed proof.

His office door suddenly opened.

A detective rushed inside.

Breathing heavily.

"Sir."

"What happened?"

The detective placed a file on the desk.

Bethwel opened it.

Then froze.

Inside sat a photograph.

An old photograph.

Twenty-six years old.

A maternity ward.

Several nurses.

Several newborns.

Nothing unusual.

Until he looked closer.

One nurse stood near the back.

Her face, partially obscured.

Yet unmistakable.

Bethwel felt a chill.

Because he knew exactly who she was.

And she currently worked for one of the most powerful people involved in the case.

Across town, Alison locked her office and prepared to leave.

The repairs had barely begun.

The broken windows remained covered with temporary boards.

The sight irritated her.

Then her phone rang.

Patricia.

Again.

Alison smiled.

"Let me guess."

Patricia didn't sound amused.

"We're coming to get you."

Alison sighed.

"No."

"Alison—"

"No."

The lawyer walked toward her car.

"I appreciate the concern."

"This isn't concern."

Patricia's voice hardened.

"This is danger."

Alison stopped walking.

The seriousness immediately caught her attention.

Then she noticed something.

A silver sedan parked across the street.

Its engine running.

Its windows tinted.

Her pulse quickened.

The vehicle had been there yesterday.

And the day before.

The realization hit her immediately.

Someone was watching.

The smile vanished from her face.

"Patricia."

"What?"

Alison kept staring at the car.

"I think you're right."

Back at the construction site, Alex had already moved.

The warning messages had convinced him.

He trusted nobody.

Yet whoever kept sending them had been correct twice.

Twice.

That was enough.

His phone now showed thirty-seven percent battery.

The charger remained behind.

The shower remained behind.

The temporary sanctuary remained behind.

Alex slipped quietly through unfinished structures.

One building.

Then another.

Then another.

The estate became a maze.

Exactly as he intended when choosing it.

Behind him, search teams entered the wrong houses.

Opened wrong doors.

Checked wrong rooms.

Wasted precious time.

Alex allowed himself a small smile.

For the first time in weeks, he felt ahead.

Not hunted.

Not cornered.

Ahead.

Then he reached the edge of the estate.

And froze.

A familiar face stood waiting beside a parked motorcycle.

The mysterious stranger from the bus station.

The same man who had warned him.

The same man who somehow always appeared before danger arrived.

This time, the stranger wasn't smiling.

This time, he looked concerned.

"Gentlemen with guns are five minutes behind you."

Alex stared.

"Who are you?"

The stranger looked around carefully.

Then answered.

"Someone who knew Grace Akinyi."

The world seemed to stop.

Because for the first time since Project Ashes began unraveling...

Someone had spoken Patricia's mother's name.

Not as a rumor.

Not as a file.

Not as a mystery.

As a real person.

And judging from the look in the stranger's eyes...

He had secrets of his own.