Chapter 5: Midnight Secrets
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The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight as I slipped the silver key from beneath my pillow. My fingers trembled, not from fear but anticipation. After dinner, Damian had escorted me back to my room with a lingering kiss on my forehead—chaste yet somehow possessive—before locking me in for the night. Now the house slept, and my hunt for truth could begin.
Moonlight spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the floor as I approached the nightstand. The drawer was small, ornately carved with the same three-spiral symbol I'd seen on Jackson's wrist. I inserted the key, holding my breath as the lock clicked open.
Inside lay a leather-bound journal, its edges worn from frequent handling. My journal. I traced the embossed initials on the cover—E.C. Elena Collins, not Elena Thorne.
"Let's see who I really am," I whispered, opening to the first page.
The handwriting was mine—I recognized it instinctively. Dated six months earlier, the first entry detailed my assignment to investigate Thorne Industries' suspicious land acquisitions around Blackwater Preserve.
I flipped forward, scanning entries that documented my initial meetings with Damian. My early notes described him as "arrogant," "evasive," and "dangerously charismatic." I'd been wary of him from the start, yet drawn to him in a way that clearly frustrated my professional judgment.
Then I found an entry that made my blood run cold:
*April 15 - Something's not right about the Thornes. Their security measures at the preserve go far beyond protecting corporate interests. What are they hiding in those woods? And why does Damian watch me like he's memorizing my scent?*
I turned the page, heart racing.
*April 28 - First date with D. tonight. Keeping my enemies closer. At least that's what I tell myself. The attraction is undeniable and inconvenient. Must remember why I'm here.*
Several entries later:
*May 10 - We slept together. Unprofessional doesn't begin to cover it. But there's something about him—something that calls to me on a level I can't explain. Afterward, in his sleep, he called me his "moon blood." Research needed.*
My fingers trembled as I flipped to the most recent entries.
*June 30 - Followed Jackson to the preserve last night. Full moon. What I saw can't be possible. Men don't transform into wolves. Yet I saw it with my own eyes. The three of them—Damian, Jackson, and a third man I assume was Victor—changing under moonlight. I need to leave before they discover I know.*
The final entry was dated just four days before my "accident":
*July 3 - Victor cornered me today. Said he could smell Damian on me. Said I was meant to be his mate, not Damian's. He knows I've discovered their secret. Threatened to "claim what's rightfully his" at the next blood moon. I'm going to confront Damian tonight. This has gone too far.*
The journal ended there. Whatever happened after my confrontation with Damian remained unwritten.
A soft noise outside my door made me freeze. Footsteps, too light to be Damian's, paused outside my room. I quickly closed the journal, returning it to the drawer as the lock on my door quietly turned.
I slipped into bed, feigning sleep as the door eased open. Through barely-open eyes, I saw a silhouette—Jackson.
He moved silently to my bedside, studying me for a long moment before whispering, "I know you're awake, Elena."
I opened my eyes fully, sitting up. "What are you doing in my room?"
"Checking if you've found your journal yet." His smile was knowing. "Iris gave you the key, didn't she?"
I said nothing, which was answer enough.
"Did you enjoy the read? Quite the investigative journalist you were—right until you fell for the subject of your investigation."
"Why are you helping me?" I asked, pulling the covers higher.
Jackson sat on the edge of my bed, uninvited. "Who says I'm helping you? Maybe I'm just stirring the pot."
"Or maybe you want something from me too."
His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Smart girl. Yes, I want something. The same thing Damian and Victor want—you. The difference is, I'm honest about it."
"What am I to you people? What's moon blood?"
"You're special, Elena. One in a million." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Your blood can strengthen our bond to the wolf, or break it entirely. That's why the three of us have been circling you like the predators we are."
I pulled away from his touch. "And the mark you mentioned at dinner?"
His smile widened. "The three spirals. Damian marked you during your first night together—right here." His fingers hovered over my hip.
Heat flooded my face. "I don't have any tattoo."
"Not a tattoo. A bite. Our marks only appear under moonlight or when we're... intimate." His voice dropped lower. "Ask Damian to show you sometime. I'm sure he'd be delighted to refresh your memory."
"Get out," I said, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was.
"Not yet. There's something you should know." His expression grew serious. "Damian didn't tell you everything about your accident. It wasn't random. Victor tried to take you that night. Damian intervened."
"And my memory loss?"
Jackson hesitated. "That's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it."
"Some memories are too dangerous to keep." He stood. "The blood moon is coming, Elena. When it does, you'll have to choose one of us. Choose wrong, and we all suffer."
"I don't understand."
"You will." He moved to the door. "By the way, Damian's taking you to the city tomorrow—to your old apartment. He thinks familiar surroundings might trigger your memory. Selective memory, of course."
"What does that mean?"
"It means my brother wants you to remember loving him, but not what he is." Jackson paused at the threshold. "Be careful what you go looking for, Elena. Some truths have teeth."
After he left, I retrieved the journal again, searching for any clues I might have missed. Near the back, I found a folded piece of paper—coordinates and a crude map marking a location in Blackwater Preserve. Beneath it, I'd written: *Full moon ritual site. Three stones. Blood offering.*
I memorized the location before returning the journal to its hiding place. Tomorrow I'd be going to the city, to my old life. Perhaps there, away from Damian's watchful eyes, I could find more answers.
As I drifted toward sleep, my dreams were filled with howling wolves and three spiral marks that burned like brands in the moonlight. And beneath it all, a growing certainty that my body knew things my mind had forgotten—including what it felt like to surrender to a man who wasn't entirely human.
