Chapter 62
Elara's POV
I stared at the photo on my phone screen. Vivian. Tied up. Tape over her mouth. Eyes screaming terror.
My brain switched modes. Combat mode. The one where emotions got locked in a box and tactics took over.
"Mr. Goldman." I kept my voice level. Cold. "Focus. Answer my questions exactly. First—did the kidnappers make specific demands?"
Heavy breathing on the other end. He was trying to pull himself together.
"They want me," he choked out. "They said I have to come alone. To a location they'll send tomorrow morning. They didn't ask for money. They just said—they said if I want Vivian back alive, I need to do exactly what they tell me when I get there."
My stomach dropped.
No ransom. Just compliance.
That was worse. Way worse.
"They're going to use her as leverage," I said. "Force you to do something. Sign something. Or—"
"I know." His voice cracked. "That's why I called you. I can't—I can't just walk into a trap. But if I don't go, they'll kill her."
I zoomed in on the photo again. Concrete walls. Oil stains on the floor.
"What time tomorrow?"
"Noon. They said they'd send the location at 11am. Give me one hour to get there."
One hour. Not much time to set up a rescue.
"And they specifically said you have to come alone? No police, no backup?"
"Yes. They said if they see anyone else, anyone at all—" He couldn't finish the sentence.
I studied the photo one more time. Metal shelving barely visible in the corner.
Warehouse. Or garage. Single-story building based on the light angle.
"Second question. Did you call the police?"
"No!" Panic cracked through his voice. "They said they'd kill her if I told anyone! If I went to the authorities—"
"But you're telling me."
Silence.
Then: "Because you saved her before. At the club. You fought that—that thing. You knew what to do."
His voice dropped. Pleading now.
"Please, Elara. I know we're not close. I know I've been—I haven't treated your family well. But she's my daughter. My only child. I'll pay anything. Do anything. Just—"
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
Fuck.
I should say no. Should tell him to handle his own mess. He'd treated us like garbage for years.
But Vivian's face in that alley flashed through my mind. Terrified. Holding Liam's hand while he bled. She wasn't her father.
"Send me everything," I said. "The photo. The message. Exact wording. Where she was last seen. Who she was with. Everything. Now."
"You'll help?" Hope flooded his voice. "You'll—"
"I'm not promising anything. But I need information first."
I hung up.
Sat there staring at my phone.
Vivian kidnapped. Same night I joined the Council. Same night guards were being deployed to my house.
That wasn't coincidence.
My phone buzzed. Files from Derrick loading.
I opened them one by one.
The photo again—Vivian on that concrete floor. Hands behind her back. No visible injuries except light bruising on her neck.
They hadn't hurt her yet. That was good.
The metadata was stripped. Whoever took this knew how to cover their tracks.
My door creaked open.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Mom stood in the doorway. Flour still on her apron. That warm smile.
"Dinner's ready, honey. You coming down?"
I forced my face to relax. Slipped the phone into my pocket.
"Yeah. Just finishing homework."
She looked at me for a long moment. Like she could see right through me.
"You've been different lately," she said quietly. "More... distant. Is everything okay at school?"
My throat tightened.
Everything was not okay. A girl was kidnapped. Professional wolves were operating in town. The Wild Hunt might be closing in. I'd joined a secret Council task force.
But I couldn't tell her any of that.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just tired."
She didn't look convinced. But she nodded.
"Okay. Well, come eat. You need to keep your strength up."
She left. Closed the door softly behind her.
I waited until her footsteps faded down the stairs.
Then I pulled out my phone again. Opened my encrypted chat with Warren.
Plan changed. I need the asthma treatment tonight. Not tomorrow. How fast can you arrange it?
The reply came in under a minute.
What happened?
I typed quickly.
My cousin just got kidnapped. The kidnappers are likely wolves—professional ones. I need to be able to move without my lungs giving out.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty.
Then: You sure you want to get involved in a kidnapping case? That should go to police or Council enforcement.
No time for procedures. Deadline is noon tomorrow. And I think this might be connected to the kill order I mentioned. Too many coincidences—timing, methods, targets.
That changed things. His response came faster.
Understood. Give me 20 minutes. I'll get Dr. Helena to handle it tonight. You need weapons?
I looked at my closet. At the floorboard where I'd hidden the cache from Black Ridge.
I have some. But intel would help. Any reports of Eastern European wolves in the area? Professional teams?
I'll check. Stand by.
I set the phone down. Leaned back in my chair.
My mind was already running scenarios.
Possibility one: Regular kidnappers. Human criminals. Easy to handle.
Possibility two: The Eastern European wolves the refugee leader mentioned. Harder. But manageable.
Possibility three: Wild Hunt. Testing me. Using Vivian as bait.
That was the worst case. If they'd connected me to the Goldman family already—
My phone buzzed.
Warren: Stand by for address. 9pm tonight.
I stood up. Walked to my closet. Pulled up the loose floorboard.
The metal case was still there. Unopened since I'd hidden it.
I popped the locks. Lifted the lid.
Silver daggers. Wolfsbane extract. Runic bracers. A handgun with silver rounds.
My fingers traced the runes on the bracers. Ancient Norse symbols. Power enhancement. Speed. Reflexes.
In my past life, I'd studied these for ten years. Mastered the basics.
But they came with a cost. Massive energy drain. This weak Omega body could handle maybe five minutes. Then I'd collapse.
Five minutes would have to be enough.
I heard footsteps on the stairs. Heavy. Dad's home.
I quickly closed the case. Shoved it back under the floorboard. Replaced the boards.
Stood up just as someone knocked.
"Elara?" Dad's voice. Tired. "Dinner."
"Coming."
I took a breath. Smoothed my expression.
Opened the door.
Dad stood there in his work clothes. Grease stains on his sleeves. He looked exhausted.
But he smiled when he saw me.
"Your mom made pot roast. Your favorite."
Something twisted in my chest.
In my past life, I'd never had this. Never had someone come home tired and still smile. Never had favorite meals.
"Thanks, Dad."
We walked downstairs together.
The kitchen smelled amazing. Mom had gone all out—pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh bread.
Ethan was already at the table. He looked up when I entered. Gave me that protective big brother look.
"You okay?" he mouthed.
I nodded slightly.
We sat down. Mom served the food.
Normal family dinner. Normal conversation about Dad's day at the shop. Mom's plans for the garden. Ethan's classes.
I forced myself to eat. To nod. To smile when appropriate.
But my mind was elsewhere.
Vivian tied up in that warehouse. The deadline ticking down. The treatment at 9pm.
I checked my watch under the table. 8:15pm.
Forty-five minutes until I had to leave.
"Elara?"
I looked up. Mom was watching me.
"You barely touched your food."
"Sorry. I'm just—thinking about a test tomorrow."
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew I was lying.
"What test?" he asked casually.
Shit.
"Biology," I said. "Big exam on cellular respiration."
Mom brightened. "Oh! Do you need help studying? Your father was always good at science—"
"I'm fine, Mom. Really. I just need to review my notes after dinner."
She looked disappointed but didn't push.
We finished eating. I helped clear the table even though my nerves were screaming at me to move faster.
I excused myself. Went back upstairs.
Locked my door.
My phone buzzed.
Warren: Library parking lot. Far corner. Come alone.
I stared at the message.
The library was six blocks away. If I went out the front door, Mom would ask questions.
Window it was.
I changed into dark jeans and a black hoodie. Pulled my hair into a tight ponytail.
Strapped the runic bracers under my sleeves. Slipped a small silver dagger into my boot.
Grabbed my backpack. Empty, but it would look normal if anyone saw me.
I looked at my window. Second floor. Easy climb down if I was careful.
Opened it slowly. Cool night air hit my face.