Aria’s POV
The scent of old electronics and toner filled Chloe’s office at Goldstein Law Firm, mixing with the faint sll of silver ink.
The USB Rowland retrieved sat plugged into her computer like a key lodged in a lock we were desperate to turn.
I paced behind them, my wolf tail flicking in the back of my mind like a restless shadow.
"How’s it going?" Alia asked, her nerves prickling the air like static.
Chloe’s fingers danced across the keyboard. "There’s evidence of tampering," she said, leaning back with a pleased grin.
A cold smile tugged at my lips. As expected. The Darvin family couldn’t just magically produce decade-old footage without leaving teeth marks sowhere.
I leaned forward, sniffing the air subconsciously. Even on-screen, the energy felt wrong. The footage was grainy, technology from ten years ago lacked the crispness modern caras had. Everything looked blurred and ghostlike, subrged in murky shadows.
On the monitor, The doctor’s voice echoed:
"Nurse. Her na is Clarence."
The morgue attendant nodded, wheeling the body away. The white sheet she was covered with never lifted.
My hackles rose.
"Speed it up," I murmured, my instincts tightening. "I want every fra."
Chloe blinked at ...my voice must’ve sounded off, but she obeyed. The scenes flickered like strobe lights. The stretcher appeared, disappeared, appeared again. It was always shrouded, never confird.
Sothing is wrong.
"Chloe," I said slowly, my eyes narrowing, "you said there’s no tampering in the morgue section. You’re certain?"
"Of course," she answered quickly. "Editing this old footage is easy to trace. And I’d see it."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
They’re hiding sothing.
Patrick wouldn’t risk this much unless he was absolutely sure. That thought slithered across my mind like ice.
"Freeze it," I ordered.
Chloe paused the video. I stared at the morgue. The green glow of the exit sign washed everything in sickly light.
I put one hand on the screen, close enough to feel the hum of heat through my palm.
"Don’t you think it is possible this body isn’t Clarence at all?"
The air sharpened like a blade.
Alia stiffened. Chloe’s breath hitched. Even Jonathan, calm as a lake at dawn, froze in place. Rowland lounged on Chloe’s sofa like a sleepy wolf, arms behind his head, but a smirk curled on his lips. We had all thought they made Clarence act dead in order to make the video and make it look like it was a decade old. But what if the person in the video wasn’t Clarence at all?.
"Three days," Rowland reminded us. "That was the ti between Sophia’s release and today’s funeral. That’s not enough ti to acquire and edit a ten-year-old surveillance."
His voice slid through the room.
Goosebumps rippled down my arms.
Alia’s eyes widened and I could tell she was thinking the sa thing I was.
"So it’s likely..." Alia whispered.
"That this footage was prepared over a decade ago," I finished, my wolf’s growl vibrating through every word.
There was silence.
It hit us like a blow...A ten-year trap...A sche aged like a corpse in the dark.
If that were the case, then, Patrick Darvin was really a viper coiled in silk.
Jonathan’s gentle voice broke the tension. "This is still speculation," he reminded us softly, like a warm breeze against frost. "We need proof."
Jonathan’s gaze sharpened, settling on like a silver blade.
"Ms. Aria, you promised the dia you’d provide a satisfying answer to everyone following this matter within a few days. We still need solid evidence."
I nodded slowly. He was right. The people deserved the truth. But right now we only had scattered leads and elusive evidence.
"Evidence? That’s easy enough."
Rowland laughed. The sound slithered through the tense air, loosening the knots in everyone’s shoulders.
I shot him a look. His amber wolf eyes glittered with mischief, like he could sll every emotion I was trying to hide.
Rowland rose to his feet and approached . He leaned close, tapping my nose with a clawed fingertip in a playful manner.
"Aria," he teased. "The body’s gone... but Clarence is still alive."
My breath caught. Of course.
How did I not think of that?
But reality settled over , heavy and cold.
"Even if she’s still in Asterfell," I muttered, "Patrick wouldn’t have stepped forward unless he hid her where we can’t sniff her out."
"And if we find her," Alia added, her brows furrowed, "what if she denies her identity?"
There was heavy suffocating silence.
Jonathan’s calm voice filled the air.
"Rowland’s idea is feasible. The challenge now is finding Clarence and getting her to admit who she is."
Rowland opened his mouth, smirking like a wolf with a secret. "Since she’s in Asterfell, she has to live sowhere, breathe, eat and move. In a world this digital?" He shrugged. "Nobody hides forever."
Jonathan’s gaze slid to , thoughtful and pointed.
"But we need influence, territorial dominance. Asterfell is vast. We’d need the help of the wolf who stands at the top of the pyramid to track her."
His unspoken words hung in the air. I t his eyes, my heart stirring. I understood his implication.
In Asterfell, the person with overwhelming influence was none other than Nathan, sitting at the pinnacle of the pyramid.
The Hemsworth Group’s subsidiaries spanned finance, healthcare, daily necessities, and more. If anyone could find soone, it would be him.
I clenched my fists, my lips pressed together in silence. My heartbeat stumbled, then roared.
His na wasn’t spoken, but it echoed in every mind.
"I’ll handle it," Rowland said suddenly.
I blinked. "Rowland, what? How?"
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