Chapter 8: Digital Ghosts
1459words
The estate was quiet when we returned, most of the windows dark except for a single light burning in what I assumed was Damian's study. He'd barely spoken during the drive back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone. Victor's appearance had rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
"You should rest," he said as we entered the foyer, his voice carefully controlled. "It's been an eventful day."
I nodded, feigning exhaustion while my mind raced with plans. The flash drive felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. "Will you be up for a while?"
"I have work to do." He brushed his fingers against my cheek, the touch lingering. "Security matters to address after Victor's... appearance."
"Of course." I leaned into his touch, surprised by how natural it felt. "Goodnight, then."
His eyes searched mine, as if looking for something he feared to find. "Goodnight, Elena."
I waited in my room until the house settled into midnight silence. The flash drive was my priority, but I needed a computer. Damian's study was too risky—he'd said he'd be working late. But I remembered seeing a laptop in Jackson's room when he'd brought me there for our midnight conversation.
The hallway was dark as I slipped from my room, guided only by moonlight filtering through occasional windows. Jackson's door was unlocked—either carelessness or an invitation. I couldn't be sure which was more concerning.
His room was empty, the bed untouched. The laptop sat on a desk by the window, already open. Too convenient. I hesitated, then moved forward anyway. I had few options and less time.
The computer wasn't password protected—another red flag. I inserted the flash drive, holding my breath as it connected. A single folder appeared, labeled simply "PROOF."
Inside were dozens of files—photographs, audio recordings, and documents. I clicked on the first image: a nighttime shot of three men standing around a stone altar in a forest clearing. Even in the grainy photo, I could identify Damian, Jackson, and who must be Victor. They were shirtless, their skin painted with symbols in what looked disturbingly like blood.
The next file was an audio recording dated three months ago. I plugged in earbuds I found on the desk and pressed play.
"The pact requires balance," Damian's voice emerged, tense and controlled. "Three alphas, equal power."
"Balance was broken when you found her," Victor's voice replied—smooth and cultured, with an edge of cruelty. "Moon blood changes everything."
"She doesn't know what she is," Jackson interjected. "We should tell her."
"And risk her running?" Damian again. "No. She stays ignorant until after the blood moon."
"By then it will be too late," Victor said. "The binding will be permanent."
The recording ended abruptly. I sat back, mind racing. What binding? What was I that even I didn't know?
I opened a document titled "Thorne Family History." It detailed the origins of the Three Wolves Pact—a ritual performed centuries ago by three werewolf alphas to bind their powers together, making them stronger than any lone wolf could be. The binding required renewal every fifty years under a blood moon.
Another document explained moon blood: rare humans born with a genetic anomaly that gave them power over werewolves. Those with moon blood could strengthen a wolf's power or destroy it entirely.
I was still absorbing this when I found a file labeled "Elena." Inside was a DNA test result and a family tree. My hands began to shake as I read the conclusion: maternal lineage traced to the Blackwood pack—Victor's family.
"Finding anything interesting?"
I jumped, nearly knocking over the chair. Jackson leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with amused eyes.
"You knew I'd come," I accused.
"I counted on it." He pushed off the wall, moving toward me with predatory grace. "You're a journalist. Curiosity is in your nature."
"Why help me? What's your angle?"
He perched on the edge of the desk, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woodsy with undertones of musk. "Maybe I believe you deserve the truth. Or maybe I just enjoy watching Damian squirm."
"These files..." I gestured to the screen. "They say I'm related to Victor's family."
"Distantly, yes. Your mother was a descendant of the Blackwood line, though she never transformed herself."
"My mother?" The word felt strange on my tongue. "I don't remember her."
"She died when you were young. Car accident." His expression softened slightly. "Your father raised you alone."
Another piece clicked into place. "That's why Victor thinks I belong to him. Blood connection."
"Partly." Jackson's fingers brushed mine as he reached for the mouse, opening another file—a photograph of a woman who looked startlingly like me, standing beside a younger Victor. "This was your mother. She was promised to Victor before she met your father and ran away."
I stared at the image, at this woman whose face echoed mine. "And now he wants me instead."
"Werewolves are possessive creatures. What we consider ours, we never truly release." His eyes held mine. "Damian marked you. Victor believes that right was his by blood."
"And you? What do you want from me?"
Jackson smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "Balance. The pact requires three alphas of equal power. If either Damian or Victor claims you fully at the blood moon ritual, that balance shifts."
"And that's bad because...?"
"Because power corrupts, Elena. Absolute power corrupts absolutely." He leaned closer. "Imagine Damian with twice his current strength and half his current restraint."
A chill ran through me. "What happens at this ritual?"
"The blood moon rises. The three alphas renew their pact. And you..." He traced a finger along my jawline. "You choose which wolf to bind yourself to permanently."
I pulled away from his touch. "And if I refuse to choose?"
"Then the pact dissolves. We lose our enhanced powers, becoming ordinary werewolves again." His smile turned bitter. "Damian and Victor would rather die than accept that fate."
"So I'm trapped. No matter what I choose, someone suffers."
"Welcome to the pact, sweetheart." Jackson stood. "But there's another option Damian hasn't told you about."
"Which is?"
"You could choose me." He said it casually, as if suggesting lunch options. "I have no desire to dominate the others. With me, balance remains."
Before I could respond, a low growl came from the doorway. Damian stood there, eyes glowing blue, his body rigid with barely contained fury.
"Get away from her," he snarled at Jackson.
Jackson raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just having a friendly chat with my sister-in-law."
"Out. Now."
With a wink at me, Jackson sauntered past his brother. "Sweet dreams, Elena. Think about what I said."
When he was gone, Damian's gaze fell to the computer screen, still displaying my mother's photograph with Victor. His expression darkened further.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice dangerously soft.
"Neither should you," I countered, standing my ground. "Were you following me?"
"Protecting you."
"From the truth?" I gestured to the screen. "You knew about my connection to Victor's family. You knew and you didn't tell me."
"I was waiting for the right time."
"When would that be? After the blood moon? After I was bound to you permanently?" My voice rose despite my efforts to control it. "What else haven't you told me, Damian? What am I that even I don't know?"
He moved toward me, his anger giving way to something more complex—concern, perhaps, or resignation. "You're more than just moon blood, Elena. You're the key to breaking the pact entirely."
"How?"
His hand reached for mine, fingers intertwining. "Because you're not just descended from werewolves. You're also descended from those who hunted us."
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"Your father's family—the Collins line. They've been wolf hunters for generations." His grip tightened. "You carry both bloodlines. Hunter and hunted. That's what makes you so powerful. That's why all three of us want you."
"And that's my 'true nature' Victor mentioned?"
Damian nodded slowly. "At the blood moon, when your power is at its peak, you won't just choose between us. You'll choose the fate of all werewolves."
I pulled my hand away, suddenly needing distance. "I need to think. Alone."
To my surprise, he didn't argue. "Be careful who you trust, Elena. Even me."
As he left, I turned back to the computer, searching for more answers. But one question burned brighter than all others: if I truly held the power to determine the fate of werewolves, what choice would I make when the blood moon finally rose?
