Just as dawn broke, I slipped out of bed and stepped onto the balcony, stretching my arms wide as I took in the vast ocean stretching beyond the horizon. The cool morning breeze brushed against my skin, carrying the faint scent of salt and seaweed. It was a peaceful moment, a quiet contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me.
Since posting the video, I hadn’t dared to check any comments or scroll through social media. My phone lay silent and switched off, tucked away deep inside my bag. But even without looking, I could predict the storm it had stirred online.
The internet was a battlefield where, once you learned the rules, your adversaries played by the same twisted code. Truth and lies tangled together, reality blurred beneath a thick fog of misinformation and half-truths.
Two nights ago, I had driven through the night, the road stretching endlessly before me. By morning, I arrived at my grandmother’s modest home nestled in a small fishing village. After a simple meal, I surrendered to sleep, letting my body recover for an entire day. Only now, this morning, did I finally feel like myself again-lighter, more grounded.
Grandma’s house was right on the edge of the sea, waves gently lapping just beyond the doorstep. My parents had been staying here for several days already. My father was out at sea with my uncle, casting nets and hauling in whatever the ocean offered, while my mother helped Grandma dry fish under the warm sun.
Leaning against the railing of the second-floor balcony, I stretched again, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from the workout I’d done earlier. From this vantage point, I spotted my mother and grandmother near the racks where fish hung to dry. Their voices had grown serious, and I noticed the tension in their expressions-Mom’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Grandma’s face was set in a firm, worried line. Whatever they were discussing had clearly unsettled them both.
I descended the stairs and slipped my arms through theirs as I joined their conversation. “Let me make lunch today,” I said brightly, trying to lift the mood. “I learned an incredible beef recipe from a chef in Denver. You have to try it.”
Mom smiled warmly, cupping my face gently in her hands. “Of course, we’re eager to taste your cooking.”
Grandma gave my nose a playful pinch, her hands roughened by years of hard work but surprisingly tender. “You little foodie, always experimenting. If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into a little plump one.”
I laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Honestly, being plump sounds perfect. I’d be cute enough to stay here with you forever.”
“As if you don’t cling to us enough already,” Grandma teased with a chuckle. “When you were little, your parents had to coax you for hours to leave. You never wanted to go.”
At lunch, I prepared a spread using the fresh seafood Dad and Uncle had brought back. The flavors of the ocean mingled with the spices I’d added, filling the kitchen with an inviting aroma. As we neared the end of the meal, I knew it was time to confront the unspoken tension hanging in the air.
“I’m getting divorced,” I said firmly, my voice steady despite the weight those words carried. “When I return, we’ll finalize everything.”
I met their eyes, reading the concern etched on their faces. “This was my decision. I don’t want to continue this marriage. And don’t worry about me being bullied-I won’t let anyone hurt me. Anyone who tries will face consequences far worse than they expect.”
I spoke as casually as if I were commenting on the weather, trying to mask the heaviness beneath.
As expected, my family offered their unwavering support. “Whatever makes you happy is what matters,” Mom said softly. “We’ll stand by you no matter what.”
After three quiet days in the village, the time came to head back. Alpha Sebastian had granted me only five days off-days I had practically begged for-and I knew that stretching my absence any longer might cost me my job.
Though I had to return to Denver, I convinced my parents to stay a bit longer until the situation with Xavier was fully settled.
Before leaving, I finally switched on my phone to gauge the online reaction. I hadn’t won the battle, but neither had my detractors. The outcome was exactly as I had expected.
Still, they had taken more damage than I had. They represented the Blood Moon and Shadow Packs, powerful entities with reputations to defend. I only represented myself.
Scrolling past messages filled with fake sympathy and gossip-hunters, my eyes caught a note from Jasmine, my former team leader from Project Group Three. It had arrived three days earlier.
Her message detailed a crisis: the joint project between Blood Moon Pack and Shadow Pack was unraveling. Shadow Pack’s loan had been frozen by Silver Peak Bank.
The name ‘Silver Peak’ made my heart skip. I immediately dialed Jasmine’s number.
She ducked into a stairwell to speak privately. “Shadow Pack says the Silver Peak CEO ordered the freeze. He’s worried the public scandal could jeopardize loan repayment. They’re conducting a new evaluation.”
“Incredible,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
After a pause, I asked, “So the project is effectively canceled?”
“Alpha Gavin has been camped out in the CEO’s office daily. Rumor has it no one knows if he’s there to discuss his sister or the project. They’ve visited Silver Peak headquarters twice together, but Alpha Sebastian refuses to meet them.”
My heart pounded harder.
Alpha Sebastian had immediately taken my side.
Not only had he caused the Blood Moon and Shadow Packs immediate setbacks, but he was ensuring their troubles would continue.
I imagined Luna Dora being scolded harshly, and how my own family must be desperate to keep me safe right now.
In business, it’s all about profit. The Shadow Pack family’s threat to the project was just talk. But Alpha Sebastian freezing their loan? That was a decisive move, not an empty threat.
After ending the call, I stood outside in the yard for a long while. The sky was clear, the sea stretching endlessly, a brilliant sun illuminating everything, clouds drifting lazily across the blue.
I had to admit-being protected like this felt… truly comforting.
The drive back to Denver would take about seven hours. By my estimate, I’d arrive around eight in the evening.
Throughout the journey, my spirits remained unexpectedly high.
My chest felt unburdened, free from the weight of doubt and fear. I silently vowed to dedicate myself fully to Silver Peak, to give everything I had.
Around seven in the evening, I stepped out of a rest stop bathroom. As I made my way back to the parking lot, a man caught my eye. He was standing on the grass, speaking on his phone.
There was something familiar about him.
Then it hit me-I had seen him at the first rest stop earlier, and even before that, three nights ago, late at night at a convenience store where I’d stopped for food. He had been there too.
A chill tightened around my chest.
Slipping my hand into my coat pocket, I forced my face into a calm, neutral expression as I slid into my car.
Instead of driving off immediately, I locked the doors, pulled on my sleep mask, and reclined my seat as if settling in for a nap. I left a gap beneath the mask, allowing me to watch the area ahead clearly.
The man now stood by the roadside, smoking casually. He looked to be in his thirties, average height, with sun-kissed skin. His jeans, jacket, and T-shirt gave him an unremarkable, everyday appearance-easy to blend into a crowd.
He laughed and smiled during his phone conversation, but his eyes kept flicking toward me.
I kept my breathing slow and steady, my mind racing through possible scenarios. As a human navigating a world of wolves, I had learned to be cautious and alert.
But now, facing an unknown watcher-potentially sent by one of my enemies-I felt the sharp edge of danger.
Who was watching me?
Back in the tranquil mountain village, Esther and her mother sat together, enveloped in a heavy silence that seemed to press down on their shoulders like a physical weight. The air between them was thick with unspoken fears and worries that neither dared to voice aloud.
Esther’s hands moved methodically as she gutted a fish, but her grip tightened involuntarily. “Our Cecilia… she was tormented so cruelly, and we were powerless to stop it,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Her eyes suddenly glistened with a desperate hope. “Mom, what if… what if we went to Colorado Springs and revealed Cecilia’s existence to the Locke family? Maybe if we can’t shield her, they could.” The thought lingered, fragile yet urgent.
Her mother’s fingers clenched harder around the dried fish she held, knuckles whitening. Her eyes, clouded with age and caution, flashed with a sharp warning. “No. Absolutely not,” she said with unwavering firmness. “When the old madam entrusted Cecilia to me, she begged for only one thing-that the child live safely. Not in wealth, not in power, but safe. That was the promise.”
“But she isn’t safe now!” Esther’s voice cracked, tears pricking her reddened eyes. “I hate this as much as you do. She’s my whole world. But look at her marriage, look at how they’ve abused her! We have no status, no influence. If they knew she carried Locke blood, would they dare treat her like this?”
Her mother shook her head slowly, her tone gentle but resolute. “The Locke family is a nest of vipers. Yes, Cecilia suffers now, but if she returns to them, she might lose far more than comfort-she could lose her life.”
She fixed Esther with a steady gaze. “Don’t ever speak of this again. Especially not to Cecilia. Not a single word.”
Esther nodded silently, but inside, her heart rebelled fiercely. Cecilia was brilliant, kind-hearted, and deserving of so much more than humiliation and cruelty. Why should her daughter be forced to live hidden away in the shadows?
The two women sank into a heavy, suffocating silence. The secrets they carried felt like a crushing weight-truths powerful enough to change everything, or to shatter the very person they were desperate to protect.
Far from the quiet village, Cecilia sat alone in her car, feigning sleep beneath the mask that concealed her face. Outside, the parking lot was dimly lit, the cold night air pressing in. Across the lot, a man had just returned to his vehicle after a phone call. His presence prickled at her instincts, setting her nerves on edge.
Could it be mere coincidence that for three nights in a row, he left Denver just as she did, only to return on an identical schedule?
Minutes crawled by, thirty of them, neither of them moving. The pattern was undeniable.
Her mind raced with possibilities. Calling the police felt useless; by the time they arrived, he would be gone. All she had was a pattern, no concrete proof. Pack politics often involved surveillance before an attack. If he hadn’t made a move yet, maybe he was just watching.
Resolute, she started her car. Almost immediately, his vehicle followed. The distance between them fluctuated-sometimes vanishing from sight, only to reappear moments later. It was subtle, calculated. If she hadn’t been paying close attention, she might never have noticed.
Her palms grew slick with sweat as the Denver skyline finally came into view, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. Only then did she allow herself a slow, shaky breath.
Approaching the last intersection before her building, she made a sudden decision-accelerating hard, ignoring the red light. Her gamble worked: the gate barrier stopped his car long enough for her to slip inside.
Safe. At least for now.
Inside the underground garage, her hands still trembled as she gathered her bags. She quickly dialed Harper.
“I think someone’s been following me since I left the village,” she whispered, voice tense. “Same man, same car. Three times in a row.”
Harper’s voice rose in alarm. “Are you serious? Did you get a license plate? What did he look like?”
“Average height, tanned skin. Nothing distinctive except-“
Suddenly, movement caught Cecilia’s eye. A shadow flickered in her peripheral vision.
A figure, cloaked in a black hat, face obscured, was closing in silently, like a predator stalking its prey.
Before she could react, a sharp, searing pain exploded at the base of her skull. Darkness swallowed her vision whole. Her body crumpled, the phone slipping from her grasp as consciousness fled.
On the other end, Harper’s heart stopped.
“Cecilia? Hello? Can you hear me?” she called out, panic rising.
Only silence answered. Then the call disconnected.
She tried again. The line rang, but no one picked up.
A wave of dread crashed over her. Cecilia had said she was in her garage. Even if she’d dropped the call, she would have answered again. Something was terribly wrong.
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