Chapter 32


    -Maya’s POV-


    I stared at him, my mouth agape, struggling to form a coherent response. “There must be some


    mistake,” I finally managed, “This is crazy! –


    “We have reason to believe you were involved in a series of financial transactions linked to illegal


    activities with your father,” the officer continued, his voice devoid of emotion. “You have the right to


    remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an


    attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”


    My brain scrambled to process his words. Moneyundering? Illegal activities? It was like he was


    speaking a foreignnguage. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some kind of bizarre


    misunderstanding.


    nced at Ivan, searching for some flicker of recognition, some shred of understanding in his eyes.


    But his expression was a mask, a mixture of shock and confusion that mirrored my own. He opened


    his mouth to speak, but before any words coulde out, another officer stepped forward.


    “Let’s go,” the officer who had arrested me said curtly, gesturing towards the door. His grip on my


    arm tightened, leaving no room for argument.


    Suddenly, a new sound pierced the tense silence. A groggy voice,ced with confusion, echoed


    from the living room.


    “Amaya? What’s going on?” My mother. She must have finally woken up from the chaos. Maybe if it


    was any other situation, I would have wondered why she hadn’t woken up throughout Miranda’s


    tantrum. Before I could even turn my head to look at her, her voice rose in rm. “What are you


    doing to her?” she shrieked, her words directed at the officers.


    As if jolted awake by her outburst, Ivan finally reacted. He lunged forward, his voiceced with a


    dangerous edge. “Let her go! This is a misunderstanding!”


    The officers, however, were unfazed. One of them reacted instantly, his hand shing to his holster


    as he drew his gun. “Sir, I suggest you don’t make another move.” His voice was calm but firm,


    leaving no room for argument.


    Everything was happening so fast, a whirlwind of confusion and terror. My mother screamed, a


    high-pitched sound that wed at my sanity. I had never even been involved in my father’s


    company! There had never been any talk of moneyundering, of illegal activities. It was all a


    terrible mistake, a cruel nightmare. But the officers weren’t interested in exnations. With a firm


    grip on my


    anger. She arm, they began to usher me towards the door. My mother lunged after me, her face


    contorted with a mix of fear and reached out, her hand grasping at my arm.


    “Amaya! No!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation.


    But before I could say anything, the officers were pulling me out of the house. The world blurred into


    a nightmarish coge of shing lights and sirens wailing in the distance. Through the haze of


    confusion and panic, I could hear my mother’s screams fading behind me.


    “Stop them! You can’t let them take her!


    Then, just as abruptly, her voice was gone, like a distant, the way she had been for the better part of


    my life, reced by the rhythmic thump of my own heart hammering against my ribs. As they


    shoved me into the back of a waiting police car, I caught a


    :34 Fr


    Chapter 32


    glimpse of Ivan through the rear window. He stood there on the porch, his expression unreadable in


    the dim light.


    “I’ll fix this,” he mouthed silently, his voice barely moving his lips.


    61%合


    Whether his words were meant for me or for himself, I couldn’t tell. But they were the only shred of


    hope I had left in the midst of this swirling nightmare.


    The squad car lurched forward, the harsh red and blue lights painting the world in a dizzying strobe


    effect. My wolf thrashed inside me, snarling inside my head. The primal urge to fight, to tear free,


    was overwhelming. But I shoved her down, forcing myself to remain calm. Panicking wouldn’t help. I


    needed a clear head to get out of this mess.


    The ride to the station was a blur of usations and tense silence. My attempts to exin, to plead


    my innocence, fell on deaf ears. The officers were stoic, their faces emotionless masks. By the time


    we arrived, the only evidence of my pleas was the raw scrape in my throat from my desperate


    whispers.


    The booking process was a cold, impersonal affair. Fingerprints, mugshots, a strip search that left


    me feeling utterly vited. They took everything from me – my phone, my wallet, even the ne


    Alex had given me that I couldn’t let go of and kept buried under each cloth I wore. There was no


    opportunity for a call, no chance to reach out to Ivan or anyone else.


    Finally, they ushered me into a sterile holding cell. It was cramped, the air thick with the smell of


    disinfectant and something else.. fear. Two women sat on a metal bunk, their eyes following my


    every move with a mix of curiosity and hostility


    One of them, a woman with a **d head and a defiant glint in her eyes, spoke first. Her voice was


    raspy, probably from years of smoking.


    “New meat,” she sneered, gesturing towards the empty bunk with a jerk of her chin. “You in for


    shoplifting, sweetheart? Drugs?”


    I shook my head, “No, I-”


    “Don’t bother,” the other woman cut me off. She was older, her face etched with a lifetime of hard


    living. “They ain’t interested in exnations here. Just keep your head down and don’t cause any


    trouble.”


    Despite the hostility in their voices, a flicker of something akin to pity crossed the older woman’s


    face. “What’d you do, kid?” she asked, her voice softer than before.


    “They… they arrested me for moneyundering,” I stammered, the absurdity of the usation still


    sinking in.


    A snort ofughter erupted from the s**d-headed woman. “Moneyundering? You look like you


    couldn’tunder a sock, sweetheart.”


    “I know, I know,” I mumbled, feeling a hot flush creep up my neck. “It’s a mistake. There’s no way I


    could be involved in something like that.”


    The older woman studied me for a long moment, her gaze unwavering. “Looks like you got yourself


    in a heap of trouble, kid. But listen good, there are ways to survive in here. Don’t trust anyone, least


    of all the guards. And if anyone tries to mess with you, you fight back. They respect strength here,


    not weakness.”


    I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “I… I appreciate the advice,” I managed, my


    voice shaky but firm.


    The s**d-headed woman snorted again, but this time there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.


    “Looks like newbie’s got some


    Chapter 32


    fight in her after all, Rita. Maybe she won’t be such a pain in the a** after all.”


    Neither of us said another word and I turned my gaze staring out the cell. How was I involved in this


    when I had never gotten entangled in my father’spany. I closed my eyes, focusing on my


    connection with my wolf. I hadn’t let her out in years because the rejection had hurt us in so many


    ways. I still felt broken but being in here, locked felt so suffocating.


    The night stretched on, a slow, agonizing crawl. Sleep was impossible with the harsh fluorescent


    lights buzzing overhead and the constant murmuring of the other women in the cell. Before I know


    it, dawn arrived with a sliver of weak sunlight pushing through the narrow window. My stomach


    grumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “First rule of jail food,” Rita rasped, her voice gravelly


    from sleep, “never trust anything that’s brown and mushy.” She reached into a worn canvas bag


    tucked beneath her bunk and pulled out a stic bag filled with stale bread and a questionable-


    looking apple.


    “Share?” she offered, her gaze surprisingly gentle.


    Hesitantly, I epted a piece of bread. It was stale and dry, but it was sustenance. “You gonna be


    alright, kid?” Rita asked, her voice softer than I expected.


    “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice choked with a mix of fear and frustration. “This is insane. I


    haven’t done anything wrong.”


    She nodded, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “They don’t always care about that here,” she


    said bluntly. “But you gotta keep fighting. They can take your freedom, but they can’t take your


    spirit.”


    The day dragged on, punctuated by the nging of cell doors and the asional shout from


    somewhere down the hall. Then, an unexpected sound pierced the air – the rattle of keys


    approaching the cell door. All three of us turned towards the sound as the heavy metal door nged


    open, revealing a young guard, his face impassive.


    “Amaya Stone,” he called out, his voice t.


    My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this it? Was someone finally here to listen to my side of


    the story? Or was this something worse? I stood up, my legs shaky but my gaze defiant.


    “Yes?” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.


    The guard gestured towards the hallway. “There is someone here to see you.”


    “Who?”


    He looked annoyed by the question but he answered anyway, “He said his name was Alex Thorne.”


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