Graves POV:
I didn't go to Paris. I went to Mount Luna.
It was raining, turning the soil to mud. I dug the grave with my bare hands, ruining my nails, ruining my suit. I wanted the ruin.
I buried the vial.
"I didn't know," I sobbed into the dirt.
Liar, my wolf hissed. You didn't look. You were too busy staring at the shiny fake thing.
I sat there until the moon rose. The cold clarity of grief settled in. Wait.
Why did the chandelier fall exactly on Alex? How did she survive 'silver poisoning' for three years? Why did she glow after the surgery?
I pulled out my phone.
"Dustin," I said, my voice hollow. "Cancel the flight. Bring me the security footage. All of it. Three years back."
"Alpha, that will take weeks."
"Then hire more eyes. And put a detail on Alex. If she tries to leave, break her legs."
I looked at the fresh grave. "I will burn the world down to find the truth," I vowed. "Starting with myself."
