Chapter 19 The Second Body (Rowan POV)
Shouts yanked me out of sleep, sharp, overlapping, panicked. Boots pounded down the corridor outside my cell. Keys jangled. Someone yelled, “Get Winters! Now!” My eyes snapped open. The fluorescent light was on full blast, harsher than usual, stabbing straight into my skull. I sat up fast. The silver marks across my chest flared hot, like they’d heard something I hadn’t yet.
The lock clattered. Jackson burst in first, face pale, eyes wide. Two other guards crowded behind him, rifles half-raised. They looked at me like I might lunge.
“What’s happening?” I asked. My voice came out rough, sleep-thick.
Jackson didn’t answer. Just stared. His hand hovered near his radio.
“Talk to me,” I snapped. The wolf stirred low in my chest, not angry, just alert.
He swallowed. “Professor Hendricks is dead. Office. Throat torn out. Same as Tyler Morrison.”
The air left my lungs. I stood slowly. “When?”
“Body was found twenty minutes ago. Estimated time of death around two a.m.”
I glanced at the small wall clock. 4:47 a.m. “I’ve been here. Locked. You know that.”
Jackson nodded, jerky. “We know.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
He stepped aside. A third guard, older, grizzled, name tag reading Carter, moved forward. “We need you to come with us. Administrative wing. Now.”
I crossed my arms. “Am I under arrest again?”
“Not yet,” Carter said. “But the scene… it’s bad.”
They marched me down the corridor in silence. No cuffs this time. My bare feet slapped cold tile. Every step echoed too loud in my ears. The wolf paced inside me, restless, sniffing the air even though we were still indoors.
We reached the main admin building. Chaos spilled out of the open double doors, faculty milling, security barking orders, two paramedics wheeling a gurney covered in a white sheet. The sheet was already stained red at one end.
Professor Winters stood just inside the lobby, face gray. He saw me and waved the guards off. “I’ve got her.”
They hesitated.
“Go,” he said sharply. “Secure the perimeter.”
They scattered.
Winters took my elbow, gentle but firm, and steered me past the crowd, down a side hallway, through a door marked FACULTY OFFICES ONLY.
The hallway smelled like blood. Copper-thick. Fresh.
We stopped outside a half-open door. Yellow crime-scene tape already stretched across the frame. Inside: Hendricks’ office. Desk overturned. Papers everywhere. And Hendricks, crumpled behind the desk, throat ripped open, eyes staring at nothing. Blood had sprayed across the bookshelves in a wide arc. My stomach lurched.
Winters pulled me back before I could step closer.
“Look,” he said quietly. “But don’t touch anything.
I forced myself to look again.
A long dark hair, mine, clung to the drying blood on Hendricks’ collar. Another lay on the floor beside his hand. And the scent, my scent, hung heavy in the air. Not just trace amounts. Strong. Deliberate. Like someone had rubbed me all over the room.
I turned to Winters. “I was in the cell. Guards were posted outside all night. They saw me.”
He nodded. “They already gave statements. You never left the cell. Not for a second.”
“Then how...”
“Exactly.” Winters lowered his voice. “Someone, or something, can replicate your scent. Your hair. Your DNA. Perfectly. And they’re using it to kill again.”
The hallway outside erupted.
Shouts. A crash. Running feet.
Wesley Morrison shoved past two security officers, face red, eyes wild. He saw me through the doorway and lunged.
“You!” he screamed. “You did this! You and your accomplice!”
Carter and Jackson grabbed his arms. Wesley fought, hard, elbows flying, boots scraping tile.
“Let me go!” he roared. “She’s got help! Someone’s covering for her! That’s why she’s still locked up, because she’s got someone doing her dirty work!”
I stepped forward. Winters tried to block me. I pushed past him.
“Wesley,” I called. My voice cut through the noise. “I didn’t do this. I was in the cell. You know that.”
He spat on the floor. “I know you’re a monster. I know your scent’s all over my brother’s body. And now Hendricks? You expect me to believe you’ve got some magic alibi?”
The guards tightened their grip. Wesley’s chest heaved.
“I want her out of that cell,” he snarled. “I want her in front of the Alphas. Right now. Let them smell it on her. Let them see what she is.”
Winters stepped between us. “Enough, Morrison. Back off.”
Wesley twisted against the hold. “Back off? My brother’s dead. Hendricks is dead. And she’s still breathing. How many more before you admit she’s not the only one?”
The hallway went quiet. Everyone stared, faculty, guards, even the paramedics pausing with the gurney.
Wesley’s voice dropped to a raw whisper. “She’s got help. Someone who can fake her scent. Someone who’s killing for her. And you’re all too scared to say it out loud.”
I met his eyes. “I don’t have an accomplice. I don’t know who’s doing this. But I swear, I didn’t kill your brother. Or Hendricks. I didn’t.”
He laughed, bitter, broken. “Swear all you want. Doesn’t change the bodies.”
The guards started dragging him back. He didn’t stop shouting.
“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Both of you! You and whoever’s helping you!”
They hauled him around the corner. His voice echoed down the hall, growing fainter.
Silence settled again, thick, uncomfortable.
Winters turned to me. “Come on. Back to the cell.”
I didn’t move. “They’re not going to let this go.”
“No,” he agreed. “They’re not.”