Kael's POV
Hollen was barely breathing when we pulled him out of the wreckage. His body was limp, bloodied, and too cold. I wrapped my arms around him as the medics ran forward with the stretcher, refusing to let go until I saw with my own damn eyes that he was still alive.
"Keep pressure on that wound!" someone yelled.
His eyes fluttered. Barely.
"Stay with me, Hollen," I muttered. "Don't you fucking dare die on me."
He groaned softly. His lips twitched.
The medics rolled him onto the stretcher and loaded him into the SUV we'd rigged for emergencies. I climbed in beside him, ignoring protests. I wasn't leaving him.
By the time we made it back to the pack house, I had the hospital on the line. "You need to send your best team," I snapped. "You have ten minutes. Don't test me."
They knew better than to argue.
We moved Hollen to the infirmary room near my wing while we waited. I hovered near the door, pacing like a caged animal. Blood still clung to my hands. My shirt was soaked with it.
Minutes later, the ambulance lights flashed outside the window. The main hospital's team poured in with stretchers, gear, and enough equipment to resuscitate a corpse. I stepped aside as they worked.
Hollen stirred as they checked his vitals.
"Hollen," I said gently, crouching beside him. "You're going to be alright."
He stared up at me, eyes glassy and unfocused. Then he smiled faintly.
"Fuck off, Kael," he rasped.
I huffed a laugh, the relief bleeding from me like steam from a ruptured pipe. "Yeah, you'll live."
I followed them to the ambulance; they wheeled him out. As they loaded him in, I squeezed his shoulder one last time. "Get better, you bastard."
His hand flopped toward mine.
Then the doors sealed, and the sirens screamed to life.
I followed the ambulance until it disappeared into the woods.
I spun back around and went to the manor.
I thundered through the hallways in my boots, heading to my office. My chest was still tight, my mind spinning with everything we had uncovered.
Belladonna. Poison. The wreck. It wasn't a coincidence. Someone was moving pieces against me.
I wanted to know who planned all of this.
I pushed open the office door.
And froze.
Everything was gone.
The trays. The samples. The broken dish. It was all cleared out.
"What the hell?" I growled, striding inside.
Even the desk had been wiped down. Not a crumb in sight.
I stormed back out and headed for the maid quarters. My voice echoed through the hallway.
"Marina!"
The head maid appeared instantly, bowing her head. "Alpha?"
"Who gave you permission to clear out my office?"
She blinked. "I—I'm sorry, Alpha. It's routine. We always clean around this time. We didn't know it was off-limits."
I stared at her. This woman had taken care of this house for over two decades. She was loyal. Always efficient. Never overstepped.
My jaw clenched.
Then I exhaled.
"You're right," I muttered. "I overreacted. I'm sorry, Marina."
She smiled softly. "It's alright, Alpha. I'll instruct the staff to ask you directly in the future."
I gave her a nod and turned away.
But my gut twisted. If she cleared the room as routine, then the plates and samples were gone for good. Unless someone else got to them first.
I needed to talk to Liam.
I headed toward the west wing where he usually held his strategy briefings. My mind spun with questions. Did he see anything? Hear anything? Was he careless or compromised?
I turned the corner, and halted when I heard a familiar voice.
"You always did love playing the hero, didn't you?"
I stopped cold.
Hell no!
I turned slowly, already feeling the tension crawl up my spine.
There she stood. Camila.
My sister.
The prodigal daughter from the depths of hell.
I hadn't seen her in almost two years. Not since she walked out of here after our father's funeral, with that same look of smug indifference carved into her face.
She walked in wearing a slick black coat over form-fitting trousers with her heels clicking quietly on the stone floor and her arms crossed, as if she were the owner.
She was the last person I ever wanted to see.
Her lips curled. "Hello, little brother."
My jaw locked. "What are you doing here?"
She removed her sunglasses slowly. Her eyes sparkled like a dagger in moonlight. "Can't I just go visit my family?"
"I think we both know you don't do something without a purpose."
"So cold," she mocked. "Sorry, did I call you at a bad time?"
I crossed my arms. "You have yet to answer my question."
She walked closer, the click of her heels against the marble. The air around her felt electric, crackling with silent venom.
She smirked. "You've still got that charming way of making people feel welcome."
I stepped closer. "I'm not in the mood, Camila."
Her eyes narrowed, calculating. "So I heard. Your pet surgeon nearly died. Word travels fast when it involves accidents and an Alpha's close friend."
I said nothing. I just watched her.
"Camila," I growled calmly.
"I saw him if that's what you want to ask. Just now, while driving here," she answered.
I snapped. "Why are you here?"
"Because I want answers too. You're not the only one someone tried to kill this week."
That caught me off guard.
"What?" I asked.
She looked around, lowering her voice. "Someone tampered with my security. My safe was emptied. Two of my guards were found dead in an alley. I came to find out if your little kingdom's rot has spread to mine."
I didn't believe her. She was always a snake. "You're lying."
"Am I?" She arched a brow. "Or are you so certain of your control that you can't see how deep the cracks go?"
I blinked at her, the rage and suspicion coiling in my chest. Camila was never predictable. Never vulnerable. She didn't come here unless something was burning.
I breathed the words very slowly. "I don't trust you."
"Good," she said coolly. "You shouldn't."
She turned, walking a few steps ahead before pausing. "But if someone's coming for us both, Kael, we either figure this out…or we both burn."
I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
Because for once, I didn't know if she was wrong.
And that terrified me more than poison or any wreckage ever could.