Chapter 12 Unlikely Allies (Vivian POV)
The envelope slid under my dorm door at 3:17 a.m. I heard it, soft scrape of paper against wood, then silence. I’d been awake anyway, staring at the ceiling cracks, replaying the pack meeting in my head. Aunt Catherine’s voice still echoed: blood for blood. Jordan’s cold stare. Meredith’s absence.
I rolled off the bed, bare feet hitting the rug. The envelope was plain manila, no label, no stamp. Thick. Heavy. I picked it up, turned it over. Nothing written on either side.
I locked the door, twice, then sat cross-legged on the floor and tore the flap open.
Pages spilled out. Photocopies. Scans. Some handwritten notes in sharp black ink. I spread them across the rug like a deck of cards.
First page: PROJECT CHIMERA, CONFIDENTIAL.
My pulse kicked.
I read.
The words blurred at first, too dense, too clinical. Suppression protocols. Monthly intramuscular injections. Goal: complete dormancy of lycanthropic expression. Subjects selected from high-risk lineages. Rogue bloodlines. Mixed heritage. Human-adjacent knowledge threats.
Then the list.
Fourteen names.
I scanned fast, then froze.
Meredith Kim, Ironwood lineage. Acquired age 4 months. Adoptive placement arranged. Ongoing suppression via faculty proxy. Status: compliant.
Next line: Bethany Park, Silvercrest. Similar entry.
Then others I recognized from transfer rumors. Hannah Kimura. Gabriel Cross.
And at the bottom, circled in red pen: Rowan Ashford , Nightshade biological tie suspected. Suppression initiated post-relocation.
I pressed my palm to my mouth. Hard.
This wasn’t rumor. This was evidence. Someone had risked everything to get these files to me.
I flipped through more pages, medical charts, injection schedules, behavioral observations. Meredith’s file had a note: “Subject exhibits persistent allergic response to standard lycanthropic allergens. Daily oral suppressant required. Shifting difficulty noted since puberty onset. Recommend increased dosage if manifestation risk rises.”
Allergic response.
I thought of Meredith in the bathroom, vomiting, feverish, pupils blown wide. She’d said everything was too loud, too bright. She’d tried to shift and failed.
I stood up. The room tilted for a second. I steadied myself against the desk.
I needed to see her. Now.
I shoved the papers back into the envelope, tucked it under my hoodie, and slipped into the hallway. The dorm was quiet, most Ironwood students still asleep. I moved fast, bare feet silent on the carpet.
Meredith’s door was unlocked. She always left it cracked for her little sister. I pushed it open slowly.
She was sitting on her bed in the dark, knees to chest, staring at nothing.
“Meredith,” I whispered.
She startled. “Vivian?”
I closed the door behind me. Locked it.
“We need to talk.”
She rubbed her eyes. “It’s three in the morning.”
“I know.” I sat on the edge of her bed. “I got something. Anonymous. Slipped under my door.”
She frowned. “What kind of something?”
I pulled out the envelope. Handed her Meredith’s file, the top page with her name, her baby photo, the suppression notes.
She stared at it. Then at me.
“What is this?”
“Read it.”
She took the page with shaking fingers. Her eyes moved down the lines. Faster. Faster.
When she reached the injection schedule, her breath hitched.
“No,” she whispered.
“Meredith,”
“This is fake.” Her voice cracked. “It has to be fake.”
“Look at the dates. The signatures. The medical codes. These aren’t forgeries.”
She shook her head. “I’m not, I’m not suppressed. I’m Ironwood. I’m the heir. I shift. I just… it’s harder sometimes.”
“Harder than your brothers?” I asked quietly.
She flinched.
“Harder than anyone else in your year?” I pressed.
She looked away.
“You’ve had ‘allergies’ since we were kids,” I said. “Daily pills. Your mom always said it was pollen or dust or something environmental. But you never had a reaction outside of campus. Never at pack runs in the forest. Only here.”
Her hands clenched the paper until it crinkled.
“And the shifting,” I continued. “You told me last year it felt like pushing through mud. Like your wolf was there but… distant. Drugged.”
“Stop.”
“You’ve had memory gaps. You told me once you don’t remember anything before age five. Nothing. Blank.”
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“I know.” I reached out, touched her knee. “But it’s real. Someone risked sending me these files. They wanted me to see it. And now you need to see it too.”
She lowered her hands. Tears streaked her cheeks.
“If this is true…” Her voice broke. “If they’ve been drugging me my whole life… what am I?”
“You’re still Meredith,” I said firmly. “You’re still the girl who beat me in mock trial sophomore year. You’re still the one who’s supposed to lead Ironwood someday. None of that changes.”
“But they lied.” Her words came out choked. “My parents. The pack. Everyone.”
“Maybe not everyone,” I said. “Maybe just the people at the top. The Alphas. The council. They might have kept it from the rest of us.”
She laughed, short, bitter. “You think Aunt Catherine doesn’t know? She’s second-in-command. She signs off on everything.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
Meredith stared at the page again. At her own baby picture, wide eyes, tiny fists.
“I feel sick,” she whispered.
I moved closer. “Breathe.”
She tried. Failed. A sob tore out of her.
I wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened, then collapsed against me, shoulders shaking.
“I don’t know who I am,” she cried into my shoulder.
“You’re Meredith Kim,” I said fiercely. “And you’re going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.”
She pulled back. Wiped her face with her sleeve.
“What do we do?”
“We don’t tell anyone yet,” I said. “Not your parents. Not the pack. Not even Jordan. If Ironwood leadership is involved, if they knew, we can’t trust them. Not until we know how deep this goes.”
She nodded slowly.
“I’m going to keep digging,” I told her. “Whoever sent these files… they’re on our side. Or at least against whoever did this. We need more proof. We need to know why. And we need to know how to stop it.”
Meredith swallowed. “The other names… are they still being dosed?”
“Some of them, yeah. Rowan’s file says ongoing suppression until recently. Until the Turning started.”
Meredith’s eyes widened. “You think that’s why she…”
“I think someone decided to flip the switch,” I said. “And now everything’s unraveling.”
She looked down at the crumpled page.
“I want the truth,” she said quietly. “All of it.”
“You’ll get it,” I promised. “But we do this carefully. Quietly. Together.”
She met my gaze. For the first time since I’d walked in, her eyes were clear. Determined
“Together,” she echoed.
I squeezed her hand.
“Get some sleep,” I said. “We start tomorrow.”
She nodded.
I stood up, tucked the file back into the envelope.
At the door, I paused.
“Meredith?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t take your morning pill.”
She stared at me.
Then she reached under her pillow, pulled out the familiar orange bottle, and handed it to me.
I took it.
“I won’t,” she said.
I slipped out into the hallway.
The envelope felt heavier in my hands now.
Someone had trusted me with this.
And I wasn’t going to let them down.