Chapter 61
Elara's POV
I leaned against the door. My heart was still hammering.
Stop it. Just stop.
I pressed my palms against the wood. Took a breath. Another one.
It didn't help.
My brain kept replaying the moment Kael opened that door. Water dripping down his neck. That towel sitting low on his hips. The way those droplets slid over his chest—
Jesus Christ, Elara. Get a grip.
In my past life, I'd faced down Alpha challengers twice my size without breaking a sweat. I'd killed men with my bare hands. I'd ruled the coldest territory in North America.
And now I was losing my mind over some guy's abs.
This body. This stupid Omega body with its stupid hormones.
I pushed off the door. Shook my head hard.
Focus. You have bigger problems than a hot neighbor.
"Elara?" Mom's voice drifted from the kitchen. "You back? How was the neighbor?"
I walked toward the sound. Mom was standing in the kitchen doorway. Flour on her apron. That warm smile she always wore.
"Yeah. I gave him the basket." I kept my voice flat. Normal. "He seemed... polite."
Mom's eyes lit up. "See? I told you. Such a nice young man. You should talk to him more. You're always so cold to people, honey."
Cold. Right.
If only she knew how not-cold I'd felt thirty seconds ago.
"I have homework, Mom." I moved toward the stairs. "I'll come down for dinner."
"Half an hour!" she called after me.
I climbed the stairs. My legs felt weird. Shaky.
Stop thinking about him. Stop thinking about—
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out as I reached my room. Locked the door behind me.
Unknown number. Encrypted message.
Warren.
I sat at my desk. Opened it.
Treatment approved. Tomorrow 8pm, Council Medical Center. Dr. Helena will handle your asthma personally. This is a pilot program between the Council and Saint George—your training records will convert to academic credit. Won't affect your studies.
I stared at the screen.
That was... fast.
Way faster than I'd expected.
The Council worked quick when they wanted something.
Another message popped up.
Two guards will report to your area tonight. One day shift, one night. They'll stay hidden. Won't interfere with your family's normal life. I'll send their files tomorrow morning.
I exhaled slowly.
Guards. Real guards. Watching my house.
Watching my family.
Something tight loosened in my chest. Just a little.
In my past life, I'd always been the one protecting others. The one standing between danger and everyone else.
Now someone was protecting me.
It felt... strange. Wrong, almost.
But also—
I looked at my closed door. Thought about Mom in the kitchen. Dad still at work. Ethan probably in his room.
If the Wild Hunt came, I couldn't stop them alone. Not in this body.
I needed help. Even if I hated admitting it.
My fingers moved across the screen.
Received. Need detailed guard information. Combat records and reliability assessment required.
I hit send.
I wasn't going to blindly trust strangers just because Warren vouched for them.
I set the phone down. Reached for my homework—
The phone rang.
Actual ringing. Not a text.
I looked at the screen.
Derrick Goldman
My eyebrows went up.
Calling about the payment, probably. Maybe wanting to discuss the protection plan in detail.
I answered. "Mr. Goldman. Good evening."
Heavy breathing on the other end.
Not normal breathing. Gasping. Like he'd just run a marathon.
"Elara!" His voice cracked. "Something happened! Something terrible!"
I sat up straight.
That wasn't his usual smooth businessman tone. That was panic.
"What happened?" I kept my voice level.
"It's Vivian—" He choked on the words. "My daughter—she's been kidnapped!"
The room went very still.
My mind immediately started cycling through possibilities.
Wild Hunt? Eastern European wolves? Business enemies?
"When did this happen?" I asked. My voice came out cold. Controlled. "Where? Did the kidnappers leave any clues?"
Lynette's training kicking in. Even in this body.
"This afternoon—" Derrick's words tumbled over each other. "She didn't come home from school—we thought she went to a friend's house—but then at six we got a message—"
"Mr. Goldman." I cut him off. "Take a deep breath. Slowly. Tell me exactly what message you received."
I heard him inhale. Shaky. Trying to steady himself.
"They sent a photo," he said. "Vivian. Tied up. And a message—'If you want her alive, do what we say.'"
My fingers curled into the bedsheet.
I didn't realize I was gripping it until my knuckles went white.
Time. Location. Demands. Motive.
I needed all of it. Now.
"What else did the message say?" I asked. "Did they make specific demands? A ransom amount? A deadline?"
My brain was already working. Mapping scenarios. Calculating risks.
This wasn't just a random kidnapping.
Vivian had been at that club. She'd been there when Liam got attacked. When that rogue wolf with the golden eyes showed up.
This was connected. Had to be.
"They—they said they'd contact us again," Derrick stammered. "They said if we called the police or told anyone, they'd kill her."
"But you're telling me," I pointed out.
Silence on the other end.
Then: "Because you saved her before. At the club. You fought that—that thing. You knew what to do."
His voice dropped lower. Almost pleading.
"Please, Elara. I know we're not close. I know I've been—I haven't been good to your family. But she's my daughter. My only child. I'll pay anything. Do anything. Just—please—"
I closed my eyes.
Fuck.
I should say no. Should tell him to handle it himself. He'd treated my family like garbage for years.
But Vivian's face flashed in my mind. Terrified in that alley. Holding Liam's hand while he bled out.
She wasn't her father.
"Send me everything," I said. "The photo. The message. Exact wording. Any details about where she was last seen. Who she was with. Everything."
"You'll help?" Hope cracked through his voice. "You'll—"
"I'm not promising anything," I cut him off. "But I need information first. Send it now."
"Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you—"
I hung up.
Sat there staring at my phone.
Vivian was kidnapped.
The same night I joined the Council. The same night guards were being deployed to watch my house.
My phone buzzed. Incoming files from Derrick.
I opened the first one.
A photo loaded on the screen.
Vivian. Hands bound behind her back. Duct tape over her mouth. Eyes wide with terror.
She was sitting on a concrete floor. Bare walls behind her. No windows visible.
Could be a basement. Could be a warehouse.
No identifying features.
Professional.