All Chapters of Beyond Reasonable Doubt (Full Series): Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 21Jordan POVIt was late enough that the packhouse quiet stopped feeling natural and started feeling managed.The kind of quiet that meant everyone was “down for the night,” but no one actually turned off the lights in their heads. There were still footsteps sometimes—soft, measured, always in the same rhythm. Doors that closed without slamming. The faintest murmur of voices somewhere far down the hall that stopped the second I paused and listened.I’d been in plenty of places that were “secure.”This was different. This was secure and suspicious of itself.I set up in the small office nook off my suite—desk, lamp, laptop, my tri-fold case board now spread across the far wall like a bad idea I’d committed to fully. I’d added new sticky notes since the last chapter of my life:DISTURBED SOIL OFF-TRAILELAINA: “NO ONE CAME TO CLINIC AFTER MIDNIGHT”TELLER: BONDSMAN PAID BY MERCER SUBCONTRACTORHARD DRIVE HANDOFF — MASON RUDD + UNKNOWN WOMANSUBPOENA RUMOR — TIMING? SCOPE?If I

Book One- Counsel for the WolfAct II- Terms of WarChapter 23Jordan POVCourthouse hallways all smell the same.Not in a poetic way. In a very specific, very annoying way—industrial cleaner, stale coffee, and that faint paper-dust scent that lives in folders no one wants to open until they have to. Add fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look slightly guilty, and you’ve got the full experience.I’d been back here a thousand times. Enough that the security guards knew my face and the clerks knew my voice. Enough that the building didn’t make me nervous.Which is exactly why Silvia Smith chose it.Courthouse territory makes people feel boxed in. It makes them feel watched. It makes them want to cooperate just to get out of the hallway and back to their cars.I wasn’t one of those people.I stepped out of the elevator with my file folder tucked under my arm and my phone in my hand, mid-text to Roger.JORDAN: If anyone contacts you re: “voluntary interviews,” don’t answer. Send the

Chapter 25Maddox POVThe Councildidn’t like surprises.They also didn’t like humans, attorneys, deadlines, or anything that sounded like a paper trail. So, naturally, my week had become a curated collection of everything they hated.I stood alone in the small conference office off the main hall—neutral walls, a long table, no pack marks, no scent markers. The kind of room we used for calls that couldn’t be overheard, even by people with better hearing than humans ever deserved.Elias had installed a separate encrypted line for Council communications years ago. Not because they asked for it, but because I didn’t trust them not to tap their own calls out of paranoia.The screen on the wall flickered once, then stabilized. Five windows appeared, each one holding a face that belonged to someone with authority and too much time.Councilor Harlan Whitlock—gray hair, sharp eyes, the kind of man who believed history was proof of superiority. He always sat dead center on calls like this beca

Chapter 27Jordan POVI realized I forgot the pharmacy when I was already halfway down the hall with my laptop bag on my shoulder and my interview folder tucked under my arm like a shield.Again.I stopped so abruptly Rowan almost clipped my elbow.“Don’t,” I said, holding up a finger, because I could feel the words forming on his face. He didn’t have to speak for me to hear them. Something along the lines of: human plans are inefficient.I turned on my heel and marched back into my suite, dumped my bag on the table, and stared at the empty spot on the counter where my stomach meds should’ve been waiting like a responsible adult.“I swear to God,” I muttered out loud, to no one.Then I froze, blinking, because… my stomach wasn’t upset.It should’ve been. It always was when I missed that pill. Didn't it?But I’d missed it yesterday. And the day before. And this morning, I’d done the whole routine, reached for the bottle, and remembered the bottle was empty.Still… nothing.No burn. No

Chapter 29Jordan POVKane didn’t ask about my father the way people normally did.There was no soft preface. No awkward sympathy. No “I’m sorry for your loss” that always felt like a script people read off their own discomfort.He asked like it mattered to the case.Like it mattered to him.And the second the words left his mouth, the room changed. Maddox stayed perfectly still beside the counter—quiet, contained—but his attention sharpened in a way I could feel. Like a door in his head had opened and he was listening for whatever walked through.I set my sandwich down. Carefully. Like if I moved too fast, my temper would jump out and start speaking for me.Kane stood near the kitchen island with his hands loose at his sides, posture open, expression serious. He wasn’t trying to intimidate me. He wasn’t trying to charm me.That alone made me cautious.“What about him?” I repeated, even.Kane glanced once at Maddox. Not permission. More like acknowledgment: this is about to be bigger