All Chapters of Wolf shifter romance with murder mystery: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Spring arrives and with it, an invitation I didn't expect.James Riversong contacts me about a consciousness trauma case in Alaska—a young woman who absorbed fragments during an accident and is deteriorating rapidly. The local healers have tried everything. They want my consultation."I know you've stepped back from active practice," James says over the phone. "But Hope, she's sixteen. Same age you were when—""When I nearly fragmented completely. I know.""Will you come? Not to take over the case, just to consult? The healers here are good, but they're nervous. They need someone who's been through this."I should say no. I've built good boundaries and stepped back from constant crisis intervention. This isn't my responsibility anymore.But a sixteen-year-old girl is fragmenting in Alaska, and I remember exactly what that feels like."I'll come. But James—I'm consulting only. The local healers do the actual treatment.""Understood."I fly to Alaska two days later, Adrian insisting on

In May, I got a call from Sarah that changed everything."Hope, we have a situation. One of our practitioners—David Rodriguez in the Denver center—has been using the integration techniques for predatory purposes. We have evidence he's been consuming patient consciousnesses instead of healing them."My blood goes cold. "How many?""At least five that we can confirm. Maybe more. Hope this is exactly what the conservative Elders warned about when you proposed the program. What we promised wouldn't happen."After I hang up, I sit in my office struggling to breathe. This is my worst nightmare—someone I trained using techniques I developed to become exactly what Ravensbrook was.Adrian finds me there an hour later, still frozen."Sarah called," I manage. "One of our practitioners has gone predatory. He's been consuming patients."Adrian's expression hardens. "What do you need?""I need to go to Denver. I need to understand how this happened. And I need—" My voice breaks. "I need to fix it b

The tenth anniversary of the Consciousness Trauma Recovery Program falls on a crisp October day.We hold a celebration at the Seattle center—all seventeen center directors, representatives from the Council, dozens of practitioners, and over a hundred former patients who credit the program with saving their lives.I almost don't attend. The David Rodriguez case is still fresh—only three months since the investigation concluded. Celebrating feels inappropriate when we so recently failed.But Sarah insists."Hope, we've treated three thousand two hundred patients over ten years. We've trained one hundred and four practitioners. We've revolutionized consciousness trauma treatment. One catastrophic failure doesn't erase all of that."So I go, Adrian beside me as always.The center is decorated festively—banners celebrating ten years, displays showing program growth, a wall of testimonials from patients whose lives were changed."Elder Whitmore!" A woman approaches, maybe forty, with bright

Three years into my role as Department Chair, I make a decision that surprises even me.I'm sitting in my office reviewing fellowship applications when Maya knocks on the door."Hope, do you have a minute?""Always. What's up?"She settles into the chair across from my desk, unusually hesitant. "The Seattle center needs a new director. Sarah's taking a position with the international consciousness healing organization. She asked if I'd be interested."My immediate instinct is to say yes, encourage her, and celebrate this opportunity. But there's something in her expression that makes me pause."You don't sound excited.""I am. But I'm also terrified. Hope, I've only been practicing for seven years. Sarah's been doing this for fifteen. The Seattle center is the flagship—the original, the one everyone looks to as the model. What if I'm not ready?"I hear echoes of my own doubts from years ago. The weight of responsibility, the fear of inadequacy, the sense that you're being asked to fil

Twenty years after Alaska, I return to the Denali compound.James has invited me for the dedication of a new facility—the Ravensbrook Memorial Consciousness Research Center. It's named not to honor him, but to remember what he represented and ensure it never happens again."We thought about calling it something else," James tells me as we walk through the new building. "Something more uplifting. But we decided remembering the darkness is part of preventing it."The center is beautiful—state-of-the-art research facilities, treatment rooms, a library dedicated to consciousness trauma research. On the wall in the main entrance is the memorial with two hundred and forty-four names that I saw years ago, relocated here from the garden."Hope Whitmore saved these consciousnesses," the dedication plaque reads. "She transformed predatory knowledge into healing practice. This center continues that work—researching consciousness trauma, developing new treatments, and training practitioners who u