Third Person’s POV
A sharp, bone–cracking thud split the silence of the woods.
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behind
The girl’s shriek was cut short as four front teeth flew from her mouth, mingling <b>with </b>a spray of blood. Her nasal bone cracked audibly, and she copsed next to her boyfriend, her screams of agony echoing through the moonlit grove Ashmoor Academy.
<b>Carmen </b>stood above them, expression <b>calm</b>, her breathing steady. No <b>panic</b>. No hesitation. She had <b>executed </b><b>this </b><b>like </b>a well- rehearsed maneuver.
With <b>a </b><b>cold </b>gleam in her <b>eyes</b>, she turned, swiftly <b>vanishing </b>into the shadows of the trees. Momentster, she crouched beside a half–buried rock, stripped off her jacket, gloves, and face <b>mask</b>, tossing the bloodied garments into a shallow pit. She flicked open a lighter, and with a <b>hiss </b>and crackle, mes devoured the evidence until nothing remained but ash <b>and </b>scorched soil.
The next day, the couple reported the attack, but despite the pack patrol <b>and </b>enforcers sweeping the scene, not a single clue was found. No scent trail. No witnesses. No silver to catch. Carmen had nned this <b>too </b>well.
Her attack wasn’t driven by the frustration of losing a million–credit payout–though it certainly stung. No, it was because of Riley,
Her sister.
Every day Lucien Duskgrave kept Riley locked inside the Duskgrave estate, was another day she suffered under <b>a </b>gilded cage of silence and <b>secrets</b>. Carmen couldn’t allow that. Anyone who dyed her mission to save Riley would pay <b>in </b>blood. That couple had chosen the wrong night to interfere.
While Carmen was settling scores in her own ruthless way, Riley remained trapped in the Duskgrave manor.
For seven days, she hadn’t stepped beyond the stone walls. <b>Each </b>morning, she resumed work on <b>Matriarch </b>Duskgrave’s cherished <b>embroidery </b>project–a sprawling silk rendering of a white peony, the sigil flower of <b>the </b>Stormridge Pack.
By the seventh day, Caelum Knox finally returned.
In the high tower office of the <b>Duskgrave </b>estate, Lucien stood silently behind his <b>broad </b>oak desk. <b>The </b><b>air </b>around him was thick, cold, the way it always felt before a storm broke.
<b>Caelum </b>ced a thick leather–bound folder onto the desk. <b>The </b>weight of the truth thudded against the wood.
“All the intel on the Ebonw Pack is here,” Caelum said, his voice low.
Lucien said nothing at first. He opened the folder with slender fingers. <b>Page </b>after page revealed names, dates, medical records, education histories–details Riley herself had likely never seen. <b>And </b>with each turn of the <b>page</b>, his brows drew closer together, the fury in his golden eyes simmering hotter.
He had known the Ebonw <b>Park </b><b>was </b>ruthless.
But this this was monstrous.
The <b>truth </b>wed at his gut. Riley had been not merely neglected, but gutted, drained, betrayed. Her so–called family had sold her off, used her, imprisoned her, discarded her
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sted deeper into his chest like a silver <b>knife </b>
Atst, he stood, gathering the entire folder under one arm. Caelum frowned slightly
“<b>Alpha</b>.” he said, “this file. it’s too cruel. Riley may not be ready to face it.”
Lucien’s voice was colder than the wind on the Frostfangs
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“She’s <b>endured </b>cruelty all her life without understanding why. If she must suffer, let her at <b>least </b>suffer knowing the truth.”
Then <b>he </b>strode out of the study, leaving Caelum behind.
For the first time in years, Lucien Duskgrave–war <b>hero</b>. Alpha heir, ruthless tactician–<b>hesitated</b>.
He stood before Riley’s embroidery chamber like a warrior before <b>battle</b>, palm hovering over the wooden door. He imagined her reaction, confusion, horror, heartbreak. Each possibility tore deeper into his core
Behind him, Caelum watched, eyes wide with disbelief. He had served under Lucien during the Rogue Purges, <b>had </b>seen him kill with a flick of his wrist. But now, for a woman. Lucien hesitated.
And Caelum understood why.
He’d read the same file.
The Ebonw Pack weren’t wolves–they were parasites.
Even in the blood–drenched world of werewolf ns, this kind of familial betrayal was rare. <b>Parents </b>stealing from their child, siblings conspiring against her. It was unspeakable.
Then, <b>without </b>warning, the door creaked open.
Riley stood in the <b>doorway</b>, framed by sunlight.
At first, confusion flitted across her face–but then her eyes locked onto <b>Caelum </b>and then dropped to the folder in Lucien’s
hand
Her breath caught.
“You found it” she rasped, voice hoarse from days of silence.
Lucien nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Everything. It’s all here. Do you… want to know?”
The weight of his words pressed against her chest.
Truth Or ignorance.
The folder felt like it might explode in his hands
Riley’s fingers twitched at her side. The cor of her simple dress fluttered with <b>her </b>shallow <b>breaths</b>. Despite all she’d
endured despite her <b>burning </b>curiosity–something in her hesitated. She could feel the <b>truth </b><b>vibrating </b>off the folder like <b>dark </b>magic, ready to swallow <b>her </b>whole
Her voice cracked
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