Kane looked at me.
“Now you understand why I agreed to bring you here.”
I stopped breathing.
I had never been sent to save my pack.
Kane had brought me there to help him destroy its Alpha.
My father.
The syringe felt suddenly heavier in my hand.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Outside the enormous windows, dawn was beginning to push a thin gray line across the Pacific. Rain tapped against the glass. Somewhere far below the cliffs, waves struck rock with a distant, relentless thunder.
Inside Kane’s bedroom, the world had narrowed to four people.
Kane.
Gideon.
Vivian.
And me.
I stared at the signature again.
Richard Hayes.
I knew every curve of it.
I had watched my father sign birthday cards five minutes before handing them to us because he had forgotten what day it was. I had watched him sign payroll transfers, loan documents, land agreements, apologies he never meant, promises he rarely kept.
When I was fourteen, he had signed permission for my first school trip with such dramatic flourishes that Chloe had accused him of practicing for fame.
At eighteen, I had watched the same hand sign the paperwork that officially made me Cascade’s financial administrator because he said numbers gave him a headache.
There was no mistaking it.
But signatures could be copied.
Documents could be forged.
And my father was many things.
Careless.
Proud.
Impulsive.
Frustrating enough to make a saint consider moving to another continent.
But poisoning someone?
“No.”
My voice barely came out.
Vivian’s laugh was quiet and humorless.
“How touching.”
I looked up sharply.
She folded her arms.
“Even with the proof in your hand, you defend him.”
“I’m not defending anyone. I’m saying I want facts.”
Kane’s gaze remained on me.
He had gone terrifyingly still.
Not angry.
Not visibly.
But the air in the room had changed. The pressure of his Alpha presence pressed against my skin again, only this time I understood it better.
Pain.
Control.
Years of fury compressed into silence.
I put the syringe down carefully on the bedside table.
“Tell me everything.”
Vivian opened her mouth.
Kane spoke first.
“Everyone out.”
“Kane—” Gideon began.
“Everyone except Harper.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
For one strange second, the scarred man looked less like Kane Croft’s second-in-command and more like a worried older brother.
“You haven’t had your stabilizer.”
Kane’s eyes flicked toward the syringe.
“I think I’ve had enough stabilizer.”
Gideon paled.
Then he nodded once.
Vivian did not move.
“You’re letting her stay?”
“Yes.”
“She is Richard Hayes’s daughter.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you think that makes her trustworthy?”
Kane looked at me.
“No.”
The word should have stung.
It didn’t.
Because he continued.
“But she asked the right question.”
Vivian’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Her eyes moved between us before settling on me.
“The last woman who trusted Kane spent two weeks in a hospital.”
“The woman was your sister,” I said.
Vivian’s face turned cold.
“Yes.”
“And you still work here.”
That landed.
Her arms lowered slowly.
I stepped closer.
“If Kane did what people say he did, why are you still here?”
For the first time since I had arrived, Vivian Mercer had no immediate answer.
Kane closed his eyes.
“Not now.”
Vivian swallowed whatever she had been about to say.
Then she turned and walked out.
Gideon followed, pausing at the doorway.
“Call if his condition changes.”
I glanced toward Kane.
“It already has.”
Something almost resembling amusement crossed Gideon’s exhausted face.
“Fair point.”
The door shut behind him.
Silence returned.
Kane sat at the edge of the enormous bed.
In daylight, he looked different.
Not smaller.
A man like Kane Croft was never going to look small.
But less mythical somehow.
The monster everyone whispered about had bare feet, dark circles beneath his eyes, and a faded scar near his temple.
His hands were still trembling.
“Sit down,” I said.
His eyebrow lifted.
“You’re giving me orders now?”
“You can stand there looking dramatic if you prefer.”
“People generally avoid mocking me.”
“I imagine that gets boring.”
A sound escaped him.
Not quite a laugh.
But close.
He sat.
I remained standing.
“You knew about my father.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Eleven months.”
The answer struck harder than I expected.
“Eleven months?”
“We traced irregularities in the medication supply last autumn.”
“And you kept taking it?”
“I didn’t know what it contained.”
I looked at the puncture mark near his collar.
“You knew something was wrong.”
“I knew my condition was worsening.”
“So why didn’t you test the medication?”
“We did.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“It came back clean.”
I stared at him.
Kane leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Three laboratories. Three independent results. No silver.”
“But that syringe—”
“Gideon began testing random doses privately six weeks ago.”
“And?”
“Some contain silver.”
I understood before he said it.
“Not all of them.”
“No.”
Someone had been switching them.
Carefully.
Randomly.
Enough to keep Kane unstable.
Not enough to make the pattern obvious.
I sat in the chair opposite him.
“My father authorized the prescription.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean he knew what was in it.”
“No.”
His calm agreement unsettled me more than an accusation would have.
“You believe that?”
“I believe your father is either involved or being used.”
“Then why did you say you brought me here to destroy him?”
Kane studied me for a long moment.
“When people are frightened, they tell the truth faster.”
Anger flashed through me.
“So this was a test?”
“Yes.”
“You agreed to erase three million dollars of debt to test me?”
“Yes.”
“You let my entire pack believe I was being delivered to some unstable Alpha King because you wanted to see my reaction?”
His mouth tightened.
“When you phrase it that way—”
“How else should I phrase it?”
The lamp beside me rattled.
For one wild second, I thought I had knocked it.
Then I realized my own Alpha energy had surged.
Not much.
I had never possessed my father’s crushing presence or Kane’s terrifying power.
But the air had sharpened.
Kane noticed.
His golden eyes changed.
Interesting, they seemed to say.
That only made me angrier.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
The simple admission robbed me of momentum.
I stood.
“Wow.”
“Harper.”
“No.”
I crossed the room.
“You don’t get to Harper me.”
“I wasn’t aware your name had become a verb.”
I spun toward him.
“This is funny to you?”
“No.”
The humor disappeared instantly.
He rose.
“I expected you to hate your father.”
I stared at him.
“That’s why I brought you here.”
“You expected me to turn on him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because our investigators interviewed thirty-one people connected to Cascade. Twenty-seven blamed Richard Hayes for the pack’s financial condition.”
I said nothing.
“Four defended him.”
My throat tightened.
Kane stepped closer, though he kept several feet between us.
“Your sister.”
I looked away.
“Your father’s oldest friend.”
Silence.
“The retired schoolteacher whose mortgage he secretly paid after her husband died.”
My anger began to fracture.
“And you.”
My eyes returned to his.
“You defended him even when you thought it might cost you everything.”
“I told you facts.”
“You told my investigators that Richard Hayes was reckless, irresponsible, financially incompetent, chronically optimistic, and incapable of reading a balance sheet without developing what you called ‘a mysterious medical emergency.’”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“That sounds like me.”
“Then you told them he loved Cascade.”
“He does.”
“I know.”
Those two words hit differently.
I studied him.
“What are you actually trying to find out?”
Kane’s gaze went toward the storm.
“Whether your father is a fool.”
He paused.
“Or a traitor.”
My anger cooled enough for fear to take its place.
“Those aren’t the only possibilities.”
“No.”
“What’s the third?”
Kane looked at me.
“That someone has spent years making sure he looks like both.”
A chill moved through me.
I thought of the missing development money.
Three million dollars.
Except it had never made sense.
Not completely.
My father lost money regularly, but losing that much should have left a trail.
I had searched for one.
Vendor accounts.
Real estate deposits.
Consulting contracts.
Nothing.
The funds had moved through Cascade’s accounts and then seemed to dissolve.
“What exactly was the development fund supposed to finance?” I asked.
“A medical complex.”
I froze.
Kane watched me carefully.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Harper.”
I started pacing.
“Three years ago, my father pushed through a land purchase near Lake Crescent. He said an outside investor wanted to build a medical research facility.”
Kane’s face changed.
“What investor?”
“He never told me.”
“Why?”
“Confidentiality agreement.”
“You let him spend pack funds without knowing who the investor was?”
The criticism hit a nerve.
“I didn’t let him do anything. I spent six months trying to stop him.”
Kane said nothing.
“He overruled me through council authority.”
“Who supported him?”
I stopped pacing.
The answer came immediately.
“Almost everyone.”
“Names.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Names, Harper.”
I began listing them.
“Thomas Bell. Edwin Shaw. Marcus Hale. Robert Mercer—”
Kane went rigid.
I stopped.
“What?”
He said nothing.
“Kane.”
“Robert Mercer?”
“Yes.”
Vivian’s last name surfaced in my mind.
“Is he related to Vivian?”
“Her father.”
The bedroom suddenly felt colder.
“Vivian’s father sits on Cascade’s council?”
“Not anymore. He resigned two years ago.”
“Why?”
“He moved east.”
Kane’s stare darkened.
“Robert Mercer died eighteen months ago.”
I could only look at him.
“No.”
“I attended the funeral.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It was in Seattle.”
“He sent my father a Christmas card last year.”
Kane took a slow breath.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“His handwriting?”
I thought back.
The card had been taped to a cabinet in my father’s office.
Blue ink.
Two lines.
Richard — still watching the old roads. Stay steady.
R.M.
“I saw the signature.”
Kane moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Vivian.”
I caught his arm.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Kane froze.
So did I.
My fingers were wrapped around his wrist.
Skin to skin.
The room seemed to inhale.
I remembered what he had told me only hours earlier.
The others screamed when I touched them.
Slowly, I loosened my grip.
But I didn’t let go.
His pulse hammered beneath my fingertips.
Not violent.
Frightened.
Kane Croft was frightened.
Of me?
No.
Of what might happen.
His eyes had turned fully gold.
“Harper.”
“I’m not screaming.”
His jaw tightened.
“I noticed.”
“Does it hurt?”
His breath caught.
The question again.
The one nobody had thought to ask.
His shoulders lowered by a fraction.
“Yes.”
“More than before?”
“Yes.”
I released his wrist.
“Then you’re not going anywhere until Gideon figures out what was in your system last night.”
“There are people in my own house I may not be able to trust.”
“Exactly.”
“I need answers.”
“So do I.”
My voice softened.
“But answers won’t help if you collapse before breakfast.”
His mouth twitched.
“I don’t collapse.”
“You fell asleep sitting against a wall.”
“That was tactical.”
“That was exhaustion.”
“Agree to disagree.”
I stared at him.
“You are extremely annoying for someone whose terrifying reputation did most of the work for him.”
“And you are remarkably disrespectful for someone who arrived as a diplomatic offering.”
“There was nothing diplomatic about this.”
A real laugh escaped him then.
Low.
Short.
Rusty, as though the sound hadn’t been used in years.
And just as quickly, he went quiet.
His eyes searched my face.
“What?”
I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That was definitely something.”
Kane shook his head.
Before I could push, three hard knocks sounded at the bedroom door.
Gideon entered without waiting.
His expression told me something had happened.
“What is it?” Kane asked.
Gideon held up his phone.
“The estate pharmacy is empty.”
Kane’s face hardened.
“What do you mean empty?”
“Medication records gone. Refrigeration unit cleared. Security footage from the medical corridor erased between four twelve and five thirty this morning.”
I looked toward the bedside table.
The syringe.
“Someone knew we found it.”
“Yes.”
Gideon’s eyes moved to me.
“And there’s more.”
Of course there was.
There was always more.
“The gate camera caught a vehicle leaving at five forty-one.”
“Whose?” Kane asked.
Gideon hesitated.
“Vivian’s.”
—
We found Vivian in the east library.
She had not fled.
She was standing beside the fireplace with a cup of coffee in her hand and an expression suggesting the entire accusation was mildly inconvenient.
Kane entered first.
I followed.
Gideon closed the doors behind us.
Vivian looked at him.
“Why have you locked down the estate?”
“You tell me.”
She took one sip.
“I assume this is about my car.”
My pulse jumped.
Kane’s voice was dangerously soft.
“Where were you?”
“Here.”
“Your vehicle left the property at five forty-one.”
“I know.”
“Who was driving?”
“My sister.”
Silence.
I looked at Kane.
His face had gone blank.
Gideon spoke first.
“Evelyn is here?”
Vivian set down her coffee.
“She arrived last night.”
“The same Evelyn who was hospitalized after visiting Kane?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why would she come back?”
Vivian looked straight at me.
“Because she remembers what happened.”
Kane’s hands curled at his sides.
Vivian noticed.
“So perhaps everyone should stop behaving as though I emptied the pharmacy and listen.”
“Where is she?” Kane asked.
“Gone.”
“Convenient.”
“She became frightened after Harper found the syringe.”
My stomach dropped.
“How did she know?”
Vivian’s expression tightened.
“She was watching.”
Kane took one step forward.
“Watching us?”
“Watching the medical staff.”
“Why?”
“Because five years ago, my sister did not end up in a hospital because you attacked her.”
The room went silent.
Even the storm seemed far away.
Vivian looked at Kane.
“She ended up there because someone drugged her.”
His face lost all color.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You told me—”
“I told everyone what Evelyn asked me to tell them.”
Kane stared at her.
“She said I hurt her.”
“She said she remembered you losing control.”
“That is what happened.”
“No.”
Vivian’s voice cracked for the first time.
“What she remembered was your eyes changing, the room feeling too hot, and then waking up terrified.”
Kane went still.
“She assumed it was you because everyone told her it had to be.”
I thought of the seven women before me.
Seven candidates.
Seven terrified departures.
“How many?” I asked.
Vivian turned.
“How many of the women were drugged?”
“We don’t know.”
Gideon’s face darkened.
“You knew this and said nothing?”
“I knew Evelyn had doubts.”
“You let five more women enter Kane’s private wing.”
“I tried to stop the candidate program.”
“You organized it.”
“Because if I didn’t, someone else would.”
Her voice rose.
“And at least I could monitor what happened.”
Kane looked as if every word were opening a door he had spent years holding shut.
“What happened to Evelyn that night?”
Vivian took a breath.
“She came here voluntarily. Our father wanted the alliance, but she liked you.”
Kane looked away.
“She was nervous,” Vivian continued. “You were already having episodes. She had a glass of wine downstairs before coming up.”
“I remember.”
“She remembers someone bringing her another drink.”
“Who?”
“She doesn’t know.”
Vivian glanced toward me.
“She woke in the hallway hours later. She was panicking. Kane was unconscious inside the room.”
Gideon frowned.
“That wasn’t in the report.”
“No.”
“What was?”
“That Kane became unstable and Evelyn escaped.”
Vivian’s eyes filled, though no tears fell.
“My father wrote the report.”
Robert Mercer.
The supposedly dead councilman who had somehow sent my father a Christmas card after his funeral.
I felt the pieces shifting.
Not fitting.
Not yet.
But shifting.
“Why would your father cover it up?” I asked.
Vivian laughed bitterly.
“That is the question I’ve spent five years trying to answer.”
“Did Evelyn leave with the pharmacy supplies?”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because she called me ten minutes after she left.”
“And?”
“She said someone was following her.”
Kane’s head snapped up.
Gideon was already reaching for his phone.
“When?”
“Twenty-two minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was trying to reach her again.”
Gideon turned away, issuing rapid orders to security.
I moved closer to Vivian.
“What did she remember?”
Vivian looked at me.
“She said the person who brought her the second drink wore a Cascade pin.”
The room tilted.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There were dozens of Cascade representatives visiting Croft Industries five years ago.”
“I know.”
“My father?”
“I didn’t say your father.”
“But you thought it.”
Vivian’s silence was answer enough.
I stepped away.
My chest felt tight.
For years, I had been cleaning up Richard Hayes’s mistakes.
Sometimes I had resented him.
Sometimes I had wanted to scream at him.
Sometimes I had imagined what my life might have looked like if I had been born to a quiet family where nobody expected me to rescue three hundred people before breakfast.
But through every disaster, I had believed one thing.
My father might disappoint me.
He would never deliberately endanger innocent people.
And now I wasn’t sure.
That uncertainty hurt more than anger.
My phone vibrated.
All four of us looked toward it.
Chloe.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then instinct won.
“Chloe?”
“Harper.”
Her voice was shaking.
Every protective instinct inside me ignited.
“What happened?”
“Dad’s gone.”
I went cold.
“What do you mean gone?”
“I mean gone.”
Behind me, Kane stiffened.
“When did you last see him?”
“Last night. He said he had a council meeting.”
“At midnight?”
“I thought it was weird too.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he say where?”
“No. Harper, there are people here.”
“What people?”
“Men in dark jackets. They showed up twenty minutes ago and started asking about the development accounts.”
I looked at Kane.
“Are they yours?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Chloe, listen to me. Lock the office door.”
“I’m already in your office.”
“Good. Do not open it for anyone.”
“What is happening?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That was the hardest answer I had ever given my sister.
Because Harper Hayes was supposed to know.
I knew which electric bill had to be paid before Friday.
Which supplier would grant Cascade another week.
Which elderly pack member secretly needed groceries delivered without anyone making a fuss.
Which councilman lied about mileage reimbursements.
Which building had a leaking roof.
I knew everything because knowing things kept people safe.
But now the person at the center of our family had disappeared, and I had no idea whether I should be searching for him or running from him.
“Harper?”
“I’m here.”
“You sound scared.”
I looked through the tall windows.
Morning had finally reached the sea.
“I am.”
Chloe went quiet.
We had a rule growing up.
Our father could pretend.
Council members could pretend.
Adults in general were apparently permitted to build entire lives out of pretending.
But Chloe and I told each other the truth.
“When Mom died,” she whispered, “you promised me we wouldn’t lie to each other just because the truth was scary.”
My throat tightened.
“I remember.”
“So tell me.”
I sat down.
Kane moved closer but said nothing.
“I found evidence that Dad may have been involved in something connected to Kane’s poisoning.”
Chloe inhaled sharply.
“I don’t know whether the evidence is real,” I added quickly. “I don’t know if he knew. I don’t know if someone used his signature. But something is wrong.”
For several seconds, my sister said nothing.
Then she whispered, “I knew it.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I knew something was wrong with Dad.”
“Chloe.”
“He’s been getting letters.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What letters?”
“I don’t know. He burns them.”
“How long?”
“Months.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“You never told me?”
“He made me promise.”
“Chloe!”
“I know!”
Her voice broke.
“I know, okay? But he was scared.”
My anger vanished.
Our father was irresponsible.
Reckless.
Infuriating.
But scared?
Richard Hayes didn’t believe in fear.
He once tried to chase a black bear off our porch wearing slippers and holding a frying pan.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. That was the problem.”
Chloe sniffed.
“One night I found him sitting in Mom’s old room.”
That image struck me unexpectedly.
My father hadn’t entered that room for years.
“He had a letter in his hand,” Chloe continued. “I asked what it was.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘The past found us.’”
My skin prickled.
Kane was watching me now.
“What else?”
“He told me if anything ever happened, I should find something called Northstar.”
Gideon turned around.
His face changed.
Kane saw it.
“What?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
“Kane.”
His eyes remained on Gideon.
“What is Northstar?”
Gideon lowered the phone.
“It was an internal Croft project.”
“Was?”
“We shut it down six years ago.”
“What kind of project?”
Kane answered this time.
“Silver resistance.”
I stared at him.
My sister was still on the phone.
“Harper?” Chloe whispered.
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear.
“Stay inside. I’m coming home.”
Kane’s gaze snapped to mine.
“No.”
I ignored him.
“Lock every door. Call Mrs. Alvarez and tell her—”
“Harper.”
Kane’s voice rolled through the room.
I covered the phone.
“Do not Alpha-command me.”
His eyes flashed.
“I wasn’t.”
“That sounded suspiciously command-like.”
“You cannot go to Cascade.”
“My sister is there.”
“Exactly.”
Anger surged.
“Try finishing that sentence.”
“If your father disappeared because someone discovered you found the syringe, they may be waiting for you.”
I hated that he was right.
Apparently my face showed it.
Kane softened his voice.
“I can send people.”
“My people won’t trust yours.”
“They don’t need to trust them. They need to be protected.”
“I am not leaving Chloe there alone.”
Kane studied me for one second.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Gideon swore.
Vivian almost smiled.
I stared at Kane.
“You can barely stand.”
“I’m standing.”
“You’re also poisoned.”
“Frequently.”
“That is not the reassuring argument you think it is.”
“Harper.”
“No.”
“Good.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Now you understand how annoying it is.”
Under any other circumstances, I might have laughed.
Instead, I uncovered the phone.
“Chloe, Kane is sending security.”
A pause.
“The monster?”
Kane’s eyebrows rose.
I closed my eyes.
“He can hear you.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Sorry, Mr. Croft.”
Kane leaned closer to the phone.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Are you really coming here?”
“Yes.”
Chloe hesitated.
“Are you going to hurt my dad?”
Every trace of humor vanished from Kane’s face.
He looked at me when he answered.
“No.”
One word.
No hesitation.
Something inside me shifted.
Not trust.
Not completely.
But maybe the beginning of it.
“Thank you,” Chloe whispered.
Then the line crackled.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There’s someone outside.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Your office?”
“No. Outside the building.”
“Can you see them?”
Chloe moved.
I heard fabric rustle.
Then her breathing changed.
“It’s Dad.”
Relief hit so hard my knees weakened.
“Open the door.”
“Wait.”
Chloe’s voice had gone strange.
“What?”
“He’s not alone.”
My stomach dropped again.
“Who is with him?”
“I don’t know.”
A muffled sound came through the phone.
Then Chloe whispered, “Harper, Dad looks like he’s been crying.”
Our father had cried exactly twice in front of us.
At our mother’s funeral.
And the day Chloe almost drowned when she was six.
“Stay inside,” I said.
“But—”
“Stay inside.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Kane was already moving.
“We leave in ten minutes.”
Gideon stepped in front of him.
“No.”
Kane’s eyes hardened.
“Move.”
“You’re compromised.”
“I am the Alpha.”
“And I’m the man whose job is to tell the Alpha when he’s being an idiot.”
To my surprise, Kane stopped.
Gideon turned to me.
“There’s a secure communications room downstairs. We can get eyes on Cascade before anyone goes anywhere.”
“My sister—”
“Two vehicles are already en route.”
I hated every second of delay.
But I nodded.
“Five minutes.”
“Five.”
We hurried from the library.
At the door, Vivian caught my arm.
“Harper.”
I turned.
For the first time, there was no hostility in her expression.
Only fear.
“If you find your father…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Ask him about mine.”
Robert Mercer.
The dead man who apparently refused to stay buried.
“I will.”
Vivian released me.
Then she added quietly, “And Harper?”
“Yes?”
“My sister remembered something else this morning.”
I waited.
“She said the Cascade pin was upside down.”
“So?”
Vivian’s gaze held mine.
“My father always wore his upside down.”
—
Croft Estate’s communications room looked like something built for a government bunker.
Screens covered one wall.
Maps.
Security feeds.
Encrypted communications.
Gideon sat at a central console while Kane stood behind him.
I paced.
Three minutes had passed.
It felt like thirty.
“Anything?”
“No.”
“You said we’d have eyes on Cascade.”
“Our team is six minutes away.”
“You said five.”
“I said nothing of the kind.”
“You implied five.”
Gideon sighed.
“I understand why accountants frighten people.”
Kane looked at me.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“You’re making me dizzy.”
“You’re already dizzy.”
“Fair.”
I paced faster.
Kane leaned against the console.
His face had grown paler.
I stopped.
“You need to lie down.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Gideon.”
“I’ve been telling him that for three years.”
“There must be something you can give him.”
“We don’t know what has been contaminated.”
I looked around.
“Then nothing.”
Kane’s expression sharpened.
“That’s your medical advice?”
“My medical advice is not to inject mysterious silver liquid into your body.”
“Remarkably advanced.”
“Thank you.”
The banter faded.
For a moment, it was just us again.
The strange pair sitting on opposite sides of a bedroom wall before sunrise.
“You promised Chloe,” I said quietly.
“I did.”
“If my father is involved…”
Kane’s eyes held mine.
I forced myself to continue.
“If he knowingly did this to you, I won’t protect him from the consequences.”
Something painful crossed Kane’s face.
“But?”
“But I need the truth.”
“You’ll have it.”
“No games.”
“No.”
“No tests.”
A pause.
“No.”
“No using me to force a confession.”
“Harper—”
“No.”
His jaw worked.
Then he nodded.
“No using you.”
“Promise.”
Kane Croft looked almost offended.
“My word means something.”
“So does mine.”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he said, “I promise.”
The words settled between us.
A fragile bridge.
Gideon suddenly leaned toward the screen.
“Got them.”
I rushed over.
A live camera feed appeared.
Cascade headquarters.
My home.
My father had built the main lodge before I was born, using timber from our land and more enthusiasm than architectural skill. The west wall had been repaired so many times nobody remembered what the original looked like.
Seeing Croft security vehicles outside it felt wrong.
“Where’s Chloe?”
“Inside.”
“Dad?”
Gideon enlarged another feed from a security officer’s body camera.
My father stood in the lobby.
His silver hair was soaked.
His shirt was wrinkled.
And Chloe had both arms wrapped around him.
Alive.
Safe.
My lungs finally worked again.
Then I noticed the man beside him.
Older.
Tall.
Gray coat.
His back was to the camera.
Something about him felt familiar.
Gideon whispered, “No.”
Kane stepped closer.
The older man turned.
Vivian’s father stared directly into the camera.
Robert Mercer.
Dead eighteen months.
Alive in my pack’s lobby.
Nobody spoke.
On the screen, my father looked toward the security officer.
Then directly toward us through the lens.
“Harper?”
The microphone transmitted his voice.
I grabbed the console.
“Dad.”
His face crumpled with relief.
“Oh, thank God.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Chloe?”
“I’m fine,” my sister called.
I closed my eyes for half a second.
Then anger returned.
“Dad, where have you been?”
Richard Hayes glanced at Robert Mercer.
“Trying to fix something I should have told you about years ago.”
Kane stepped beside me.
My father saw him on the monitor.
His expression changed.
“Kane.”
“Richard.”
There was history in the way they said each other’s names.
Not hatred.
Something more complicated.
“Did you authorize my medication?” Kane asked.
My father went pale.
“Yes.”
The answer hit me like a wave.
“Dad.”
“Harper, listen.”
“You signed it?”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I knew it was part of Northstar.”
Kane’s voice turned quiet.
“Did you know it contained silver?”
My father stared into the camera.
“No.”
I wanted to believe him immediately.
That frightened me.
Because love could be a form of blindness if you wanted something badly enough.
“Then why did you sign it?” I asked.
“Because I was told it was the only thing keeping Kane alive.”
Gideon swore under his breath.
“Who told you?”
My father looked beside him.
At Robert Mercer.
Kane’s presence surged.
The lights above us flickered.
“Mercer.”
Robert stepped toward the camera.
He looked older than the photographs I remembered from council meetings.
Thinner.
But unmistakably alive.
“Kane,” he said.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“That is usually difficult to misunderstand.”
Even now, Kane found room for dry sarcasm.
Robert almost smiled.
Then his expression sobered.
“My death was necessary.”
Vivian’s face flashed through my mind.
“Your daughters think they buried you.”
Pain crossed Robert’s face.
“They buried an empty coffin.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
My father touched Robert’s shoulder.
A strangely familiar gesture.
Not allies.
Friends.
Old friends.
“How long have you known?” I asked him.
Dad looked at me.
“That Robert was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Eighteen months.”
My chest tightened.
“You lied to me for eighteen months.”
“To protect you.”
“Do not say that.”
“Harper—”
“Do not tell me you lied to protect me when I have spent five years holding Cascade together because you refused to tell me anything.”
Chloe backed away from our father.
Even through a screen, I saw how much that hurt him.
Good.
Then immediately hated myself for thinking it.
Dad looked suddenly old.
Not Alpha Hayes.
Not the man who entered rooms expecting everyone to follow him.
My father.
A tired man standing beneath fluorescent lobby lights with rainwater dripping from his coat.
“You’re right,” he said.
That silenced me.
Richard Hayes never said those words quickly.
“You’re right,” he repeated.
“I should have told you.”
My anger faltered.
“Then tell me now.”
He looked at Kane.
“You were never the target.”
Kane’s face changed.
“What?”
“The silver wasn’t designed to kill you.”
“Richard,” Robert warned.
“No.”
My father straightened.
“My daughters are already inside this. We’re finished hiding things.”
Something swelled in my chest.
Relief.
Pride.
Fear.
Maybe all three.
Dad looked into the camera again.
“Northstar began as a Croft Industries medical program studying whether controlled silver exposure could help werewolves develop resistance.”
Kane’s jaw tightened.
“I know what my project was.”
“No,” Robert said.
“You know what you were told it was.”
Silence.
Robert came closer.
“Northstar existed before Croft Industries.”
Gideon frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“It existed before Kane was born.”
The room went cold.
My father continued.
“Your father inherited it.”
Kane froze.
Everyone knew Kane Croft’s father had died when Kane was twenty.
A heart attack.
Sudden.
Tragic.
“What does my father have to do with this?”
Robert looked almost unwilling to answer.
“Everything.”
Kane’s voice dropped.
“Explain.”
Robert shook his head.
“Not over a digital connection.”
“You don’t get to refuse.”
“I’m not refusing. I’m warning you.”
“About what?”
Robert turned toward something off camera.
Then back.
“Someone has been intercepting Croft communications for months.”
Gideon’s hands flew across the keyboard.
“That’s not possible.”
“I thought so too.”
“What proof?”
Robert held up a small black device.
“I pulled this from Cascade’s server room yesterday.”
My father looked at me.
“The missing three million didn’t disappear, sweetheart.”
My heart lurched.
“Where did it go?”
“Northstar.”
“No.”
“I didn’t send it.”
He raised both hands.
“But someone used my credentials.”
Kane’s voice remained hard.
“And your signature on my medication?”
“That part was me.”
I stared at my father.
“Why?”
He looked ashamed.
“Because they showed me your medical reports, Kane.”
Kane said nothing.
“They said your condition was worsening. That without Northstar treatment, eventually you would lose control completely.”
My father’s voice roughened.
“They told me people would die.”
“You believed them.”
“I believed doctors.”
“Which doctors?”
Dad hesitated.
That tiny hesitation changed everything.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Gideon’s console beeped.
Every screen went black.
“What happened?” I asked.
Gideon started typing.
“We lost the feed.”
“Get it back.”
“I’m trying.”
The screens flickered.
For one second, Cascade headquarters reappeared.
Chloe turned toward something beyond the camera.
My father did too.
Robert’s face changed.
Fear.
Then the image vanished again.
“Gideon.”
“I know.”
Kane gripped the edge of the console.
“Call the team.”
“No connection.”
“Satellite.”
“Trying.”
My phone rang.
Chloe.
I answered instantly.
“What happened?”
Static.
Then her whisper.
“Harper?”
“I’m here.”
“The lights went out.”
“Stay with Dad.”
“I am.”
A strange sound came through the line.
A door opening.
Then footsteps.
“Who is that?” Chloe whispered.
“Chloe?”
No answer.
“Kane.”
He moved beside me.
“Put it on speaker.”
I did.
My sister’s breathing filled the room.
Then my father’s voice sounded in the distance.
“You.”
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Terrified.
A second voice answered him.
Too muffled to identify.
Then Chloe gasped.
“Harper.”
“What?”
“There’s a woman here.”
“What woman?”
“She says she knows you.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who?”
Silence.
Then Chloe whispered a name.
A name I had not heard spoken inside our family for fifteen years.
“Mom.”
I couldn’t move.
The room seemed to tilt around me.
Kane caught my elbow before I stumbled.
“What did you say?”
Chloe started crying.
“She says she’s Mom.”
“That’s impossible.”
Our mother, Eleanor Hayes, had died when I was nine.
I remembered the funeral.
I remembered Chloe asking why the box had to stay closed.
I remembered my father standing beside the grave with one hand on each of our shoulders.
I remembered rain.
I remembered thinking adults had lied when they said grief became easier.
“Chloe.”
My voice cracked.
“Look at her.”
“I am.”
“Is it her?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she look like?”
“Like the pictures.”
My father’s voice came through again.
“Eleanor?”
That destroyed the last piece of certainty I had left.
Because Richard Hayes did not sound like a man seeing an impostor.
He sounded like a man seeing a ghost.
Then another voice entered the call.
A woman’s voice.
Soft.
Steady.
Familiar in a way that reached somewhere beneath memory.
“Harper.”
My knees nearly gave out.
I had heard that voice in dreams.
Bedtime stories.
Rainy afternoons.
A woman singing while chopping vegetables badly.
A whisper saying, You’re going to be brave enough for both of us someday.
My mother.
“No.”
Kane’s hand tightened around my arm.
The woman on the phone inhaled shakily.
“You always say no when you’re afraid.”
A childhood memory exploded open.
I was seven.
Standing at the edge of a swimming dock.
Mom laughing behind me.
Jump.
No.
You always say no when you’re afraid, Harp.
I covered my mouth.
Nobody knew that.
Nobody except—
“Mom?”
The silence that followed contained fifteen missing years.
Then she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Tears blurred the room.
I wanted to scream at her.
I wanted to demand answers.
I wanted to be nine years old again and run into her arms.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Why did you leave us?”
My father made a broken sound in the background.
The woman answered quietly.
“I didn’t leave you.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I was taken.”
Kane went completely still beside me.
“By who?” I whispered.
Before she could answer, something crashed through the phone.
Chloe cried out.
“Harper!”
“Chloe!”
The line filled with static.
Then my mother’s voice came fast and urgent.
“Listen to me. Do not let Kane take any more injections.”
Kane leaned toward the phone.
“Eleanor?”
She ignored him.
“Harper, the silver isn’t meant to weaken him.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“What is it meant to do?”
Silence.
Then my mother said the words that changed everything.
“It’s meant to wake something up.”
The connection died.
I stared at the dark phone.
Nobody moved.
For one long second, the entire room remained completely silent.
Then behind me, Kane gasped.
I turned.
He had dropped to one knee.
“Kane?”
Gideon rushed toward him.
Kane lifted one trembling hand.
“Stay back.”
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then shattered into darkness.
Emergency lights came on red along the floor.
Kane raised his head.
His eyes were no longer gold.
They were silver.
And from somewhere deep beneath Croft Estate, something answered him with a howl.
Not from the forest.
Not from the cliffs.
From underground.
Gideon stared toward the floor.
His face drained of color.
Kane looked at him.
“You know that sound.”
Gideon did not answer.
“Gideon.”
Slowly, Kane’s second-in-command turned toward us.
“There’s something beneath the estate you were never supposed to find.”
The howl came again.
Closer this time.
And Gideon whispered,
“Northstar was never just a project.”
