Chapter 10 The truth that changes everything
"He's not lying."
Rafael's voice was low and underneath it was a heavy burden.
I glanced at the comm unit, still buzzing with Vince's voice. His message echoed in my mind:
Burn your world down first. It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. I had spent enough time with Vince to recognize the difference.
"I know," Rafael murmured as if to himself.
"Then why are you still moving?" I questioned.
"Because stopping is worse."
The rail car took a sharp bend, causing my shoulder to slam against the wall. Rafael quickly reached out to steady me before I could fall, unwinding his hand the moment I was, no lingering touch, no sense of possessiveness.
It was different from Vince and also different from Marco. I couldn't tell if that was reassuring or more dangerous.
"Where exactly are we headed?" I pressed.
"Safe house. East side. Old brewery district."
"How far?"
"Eight minutes." He said, staring at the road.
"And then what?"
He hesitated, and his silence spoke volumes.
"Rafael."
"After that," he replied carefully, "we open the journal."
I placed my hand flat against my father's handwriting on the cover. The leather felt almost too warm, as if it had been basking in sunlight instead of resting in a pocket.
"You've read it," I stated, not really asking.
"Parts of it," he confessed. "Only what he allowed."
"What does that mean?"
"Some pages are sealed with a blood lock," he explained. "They won't open for me. They were never meant to."
My stomach knotted. "But they will open for me."
"Yes."
The car jolted again, this time more violently. One of his guards turned, his face taut.
"We have company," the guard announced.
Rafael was already in motion. He pulled back the edge of the window covering, revealing the tunnel wall outside. Lights flickered by quickly and another vehicle on a parallel track.
"Vince's men?" I asked.
"No," the guard replied. "They are coming at us aggressively."
Rafael’s jaw tightened. "Marco."
My heart was racing fast at the sound of his name.
"He followed us through the tunnel?" I asked.
"He tracked you," Rafael clarified. "Your scent doesn’t mask underground. The suppressants faded during the fight."
Cold dread washed over me.
The parallel lights accelerated; the other vehicle was closing in. Rafael shared a swift, silent understanding with his guards.
"Brace yourselves," one guard warned.
The car lurched violently, and we rocketed forward, our speed doubling in an instant. My back slammed against the seat, and the tunnel walls blurred into a solid gray. The blue floor lights merged into a continuous line.
"How close is the exit?" I yelled above the noise.
"Two minutes," Rafael said, gripping the overhead rail with unwavering steadiness, eyes darting between the window and me.
Suddenly, the other vehicle collided with our car. Steel metal clashed together
I was thrown sideways, but Rafael caught me by the back of my jacket, yanking me upright. His guard retaliated with something resembling a pulse device, and lights along the parallel track erupted in a rain of sparks. A rush into darkness. Then, the tunnel opened and we burst into the night.
It was raining in the city.
The rail car hit the surface track and slowed sharply, skidding along the old iron rails above a warehouse district, with city lights twinkling below like scattered jewels.
Marco's vehicle stayed behind.
For a moment, there was only the falling rain and the sound of the car coming to a stop.
I took a breath.
Then my wolf stiffened.
"Stop the car," I ordered.
"We're not at the safe house yet."
"Stop the car."
Rafael shot me a sharp look. Something in my tone prompted him to signal the guards. The car slowed and finally halted on an elevated platform above the street.
I pressed my hand against the window.
Below, the street was crowded.
Not with people but with wolves. A multitude of them in human form, standing silently in the rain, all gazing upward towards us. They wore dfferent coats and had dfferent pack symbols. They are all gathered here.
"They were already positioned," I murmured. "Before tonight and before the attack."
"Yes," Rafael replied quietly.
"This wasn't just Vince and Marco fighting," I said, turning to him. My voice trembled, but not from fear anymore—now from realization. "This whole situation tonight. The breach. The smoke. The tunnel. It was set up to draw me out."
Rafael met my gaze.
"By you," I stated.
He offered no denial.
"You orchestrated the attack to extract me from Vince's compound," I continued. "You used Marco's arrival to steer me towards you. You had the tunnel prepared. The car ready. These wolves at the ready."
"Yes," was his simple response.
One word. It was firm and had no apology.
My hands balled into fists. "You’re just like them."
"No," he countered. "I didn’t chain you. I didn’t sell you. I didn’t declare you as property."
"You just manipulated every moment since we met."
"Yes," he affirmed again. "Because the alternative was letting Vince control you before you knew your true capabilities."
"That doesn't make it right."
"No," he agreed. "But it was necessary."
I felt the urge to scream. To shift and escape into the city below. But the wolves on the street remained unmoving, and I realized they could sense my blood from where we were.
There was nowhere I could go where my blood wouldn't be traced.
I looked down at the journal in my hands.
Then I turned to Rafael.
"You said my father constructed all of this on purpose," I said.
"Yes."
"Then he anticipated this moment."
"He planned for it."
"Why didn’t he just tell me the truth?" My voice cracked on the final word. "Why didn’t he sit down and explain, Isabella, this is who you are, this is what you can do, and this is what they will come for?"
Rafael paused for a moment.
Then, in a tone softer than I’d ever heard, he replied, "Because knowing too soon would have scared you away before you were prepared."
The rain pounded against the car roof.
I pressed my palm against the journal cover and felt it.
A pulse. It was weak but steady like a heart beat. It was not mine, but my father's and it was trapped inside the blood lock, waiting to be opened.
"Open it," Rafael said gently.
My fingers found the edge of the cover.
Just as I began to lift it, every wolf below turned their heads in unison.
Not towards us but towards the far end of the street. Something was approaching. Even Rafael's guards take a step back from the windows.
I turned to look.
A single figure was walking through the rain.
He was dressed in a dark coat that was drenched.
Vince, and he was alone.
There are no guards, no enforcers and neither were there any visible weapons.
He stopped beneath the elevated platform, gazing straight up at me through the rain.
Then he called out, loud enough for me to hear it through the sealed glass,
"Isabella. Your father is alive.