Chapter 98

Ava’s POV

We’d found common ground, or so I thought. I truly believed things between Grayson and me had progressed, but apparently, that didn't extend to my involvement in murder conspiracies. Staring at the screen, something clicked. I didn't know how, but the pieces fell into place. I knew the next target.

Convincing Grayson was the problem. He'd been reluctant, dismissing my theory with a promise to "send word." I wasn't guessing—my parents' relentless training had taught me nearly everything about the Alphas in our faction. Their teachings, once seemingly useless, were proving damnably relevant.

The three Alphas: the one who kidnapped me, my father, and Kickon. Their names on the screen revealed the connection: they were all from founding families that built this faction centuries ago. I remembered asking my father, out of youthful curiosity, what caused those families to disband. His response was typical—cold and dismissive: "Focus on learning facts, Ava. Don't waste time with irrelevant questions that don't concern you."

Yes, my father had been a grade-A asshole from the start. But now, those "irrelevant" questions were suddenly very relevant. If I was right, the recent attacks weren't random; they were a message—a show of power.

There was one more founding family. That left one Alpha as the likely next target: an outsider, rarely associating with the other packs. He lived on a secluded, heavily guarded estate—a virtual fortress, nearly impossible to infiltrate.

"Lilian," Isabella's voice broke my concentration. I turned to see her crouched behind a bush, irritation etched on her face. "I appreciate your involving me in this mission impossible, but don't you think your plan sucks? Why don't I just shift and burst through these bloody gates?"

I glared, then glanced back at the lock. "No. You'd make too much noise. We need to be quiet." My eyes shifted to Eliza, standing too far from cover. "Eliza, get back here. You're going to get seen."

She ducked, clutching her phone. "Sorry. I was checking for a text from him."

Isabella groaned, rolling her eyes. "I told you to stop that. We included you to distract you from that jackass. If he can't see you're too good for him, that's his loss. Now put the phone down before I beat him up—right before I beat you up."

I sighed, focusing on the lock. "No one is beating anyone up. Keep it down. I'm almost done."

"No, you're not," Eliza said, peering over my shoulder. For the first time in days, she looked present. "You're picking it wrong. Move aside."

I raised an eyebrow but stepped aside. She pulled a pin from her hair and expertly worked the lock.

"I don't understand," she muttered. "Why don't we just go inside and say, 'Hi, Alpha-whatever-your-name-is, we have reason to believe your life is in danger'?"

"Because Lilian here is scared to get in trouble," Isabella chimed in, smirking.

I glared. "I'm currently breaking and entering. What more trouble can there be, Bells?"

She shrugged dramatically. "I meant trouble with His Royal Hotness. He told you not to get involved, but because you want to prove you're right, here we are. And I'm complaining because I was bored, and Eliza needed to get her mind off that loser."

"Jeremy was really great?" Eliza sighed, just as the lock clicked open.

Isabella snorted, shoving the gate open. "Jeremy was really great—now he's just a dumb man with a dumb name, and I'm going to beat him up."

"No, you won't," I warned, following them inside.

The estate was as imposing as I'd imagined. Tall, dark windows loomed like watchful eyes; every corner seemed to hold a shadowy alcove for a guard. The tension was palpable.

"What's the plan?" Isabella whispered, crouching behind hedges.

"We scout for suspicious activity," I replied. "If I find proof for Grayson, maybe he'll finally see I can help."

Isabella smirked. "So this is you kissing his ass, huh?"

I glared. "What's your problem with Grayson all of a sudden?"

She sighed, the teasing gone. "Sorry. I'm projecting. Rickon's been on my case, and I'm taking it out on you. It's not fair."

I softened, nodding. "We'll talk later. For now, let's keep looking."

We moved silently, sticking to shadows and avoiding patrolling guards. Every opening revealed another guard, forcing us back into hiding. The longer we searched, the more frustrated I became. No suspicious activity, no evidence—just an impenetrable fortress guarded by men who seemed more like machines.

Finally, behind a large tree near the estate's edge, the weight of failure settled over us. "We're not going to find anything," Isabella muttered.

I didn't respond, my mind racing. This was supposed to be my breakthrough, the proof to show Grayson I could handle this. But we were empty-handed, and time was running out.

"We need to leave," Eliza whispered, glancing nervously at distant guards. "Before we get caught."

Reluctantly, I nodded. We hadn't found what we were looking for, but I wasn't ready to give up. If Grayson wouldn't take me seriously now, I'd find another way.

And that's when it happened.

The quiet night was shattered by a deep, guttural growl, followed by panicked shouting. My heart seized as I froze, senses hyper-focused on the cacophony. Beside me, Isabella's head snapped toward the noise, her jaw tightening.

"We need to move," she hissed, already stepping toward the sound.

I glanced at Eliza, stock-still, wide-eyed. "What are you doing?!" she hissed frantically. "We're supposed to be running away, not toward whatever that is!"

But Isabella and I didn't stop. We exchanged a glance, a silent understanding. There was no turning back. Whatever was happening, we needed to see it—and possibly stop it.

"Eliza, stay back!" I called, my voice low but firm.

But she didn't listen. "You're both insane!" she muttered, following hesitantly.

The closer we got, the louder the sounds became. Growls and snarls echoed, raising the hairs on my neck. Then I saw them—wolves, dozens, slamming against the estate wall. Their bodies thudded with sickening force; some were already scaling it with supernatural agility.

A cold dread settled in my gut: the attack was happening now.