Chapter 237 The Bodies

Chapter 237 The Bodies
Chapter 237

DARIUS

The worst package arrived the following day.

It came from the academy, a standard postal delivery, unremarkable except for the size.

It's large, heavy and sealed with tape.

Dorian stared at it sitting in the entrance hall of Daniel's packhouse, his face pale.

"Why would the academy send a package to us?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Sam shifted beside him, her arms wrapped around herself. "There's only one way to find out. We need to open it and see what's inside."

Dorian shook his head immediately. "We should inform Ravenna's father first before doing anything. This could be... anything."

I agreed, my stomach already twisting with dread. "Dorian's right. Daniel is the oldest here and the pack leader. No decision should be taken without him."

We went to find Daniel in his office.

He looked up from his paperwork when we entered, and his expression immediately grew concerned when he saw our faces.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"A package arrived," I answered. "From the academy. It's large. We didn't want to open it without you."

Daniel stood immediately and called for Torren.

When Torren arrived, the five of us stood around the package in tense silence.

After much deliberation with Torren suggesting we open it in a controlled environment and Daniel insisting we do it immediately to know what we were dealing with, Daniel finally decided to open it.

He cut through the tape with a knife, his movements careful and deliberate.

Inside was a body bag.

My blood ran cold.

"Oh God," Sam whispered.

Daniel hesitated, his hand on the zipper.

Then he pulled it open.

Sam immediately turned and vomited, her body heaving.

Inside the bag was a body.

A boy.

Sixteen years old, maybe younger, it was hard to tell with the damage.

I recognized him as Marcus's nephew, Colleen.

He'd been tortured beyond recognition.

Days of systematic brutality were evident in every wound: burns covering his torso, deep cuts crisscrossing his skin, bones broken and set wrong deliberately to cause maximum pain, signs of repeated beatings that had left his face swollen and unrecognizable.

I looked away, pain lancing through my chest.

This was someone's child. Someone's nephew. Someone's student.

And they'd been tortured for days just to make a point.

Torren stepped forward, his expression professional but his hands shaking slightly. "I need to take the body to examine it properly. There might be evidence—something that can tell us who did this."

I nodded, unable to speak.

Then reality crashed in, and I turned to Daniel. "How am I going to tell Marcus about this?"

My voice broke. "He's already dealing with rebuilding the pack after everything that happened. This is going to break him."

Daniel's face was grim. "You have no choice but to inform him. He deserves to know what happened to his nephew, no matter how gruesome it is."



That evening, Torren came to find me in Daniel's study.

His face was ashen, his usual composure shattered.

"The boy was alive for most of it," Torren said quietly. "Whoever did this kept him conscious through the pain. They wanted him to feel everything."

I felt bile rise in my throat. "Ohh moon goddess."

"Darius, what did Torren find?" Ravenna's voice came from the doorway.

I shot Torren a look—Don't tell her—but it was too late.

Ravenna was already standing with us, her eyes wide and desperate.

"Was another student killed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Torren glanced at me, then back at Ravenna. "Yes. Marcus's nephew, Collen. I was just explaining to Darius how he was tortured."

"I want to see," Ravenna said immediately.

I stepped forward. "No. You don't need to—"

"I want to see the photos," Ravenna insisted, her voice growing stronger. "I need to know what my existence is costing."

Torren hesitated, then slowly pulled out the photographs he'd taken during the examination.

Ravenna took them with trembling hands.

I watched as she looked through each one, her face growing paler with every image.

Then she collapsed.

Not fainting, just her legs giving out beneath her.

She fell to her knees, sobbing so violently her entire body convulsed.

The photographs scattered across the floor around her.

I dropped beside her immediately, pulling her into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out between sobs. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my fault."

"It's not," I said firmly, even though part of me wondered if she was right. "You didn't do this. You're not responsible for what monsters choose to do."

But my words felt hollow even as I said them.



I returned to Mooncrest Pack that night, dreading what I had to do.

Marcus was in his office, going over patrol schedules.

He looked up when I entered, and immediately his expression shifted to concern.

"What happened?" he asked.

I closed the door behind me and sat down heavily.

"A package arrived today," I said quietly. "From the academy."

Marcus went very still.

"It was Collen," I continued, my throat tight. "I'm so sorry, Marcus. Your nephew is dead."

Marcus didn't react. Just stared at me, his face blank.

"He was alive through most of the torture," I forced myself to say. "They kept him conscious and wanted him to suffer."

I pulled out the photographs Torren had given me. "I need to show you these. You deserve to know what happened to him."

Marcus took the photos with hands that didn't shake.

He looked through each one methodically, his expression never changing.

When he finished, he set them down carefully on his desk.

"I want the body," he said, his voice flat. "At least to give the poor boy a befitting burial."

He paused. "I hope Collen can forgive me."

I frowned. "Forgive you? What do you mean?"

Marcus's jaw clenched. "The day Collen was abducted, he woke up and told his mother he'd had a terrible dream. He didn't feel like going back to the academy."

His voice grew quieter. "None of us believed him. We thought he was just trying to skip school because he never liked the academy in the first place."

Marcus's hands curled into fists. "My sister, his mother called me and told me about Collen's refusal to go to school. So I drove down to their house and forced him to go."

His voice broke. "I forced him. And it led him straight to his death."

"Marcus, don't," I shook my head slowly. "You were just doing what an uncle does. You were trying to make sure he got his education."

Marcus shook his head violently. "No. His death is on me. I ignored his instincts. And now he's dead because of it."

He stood abruptly. "I'm going to avenge his death. Whoever did this—whoever is behind these kidnappings—I'm going to find them and make them pay."



The protests turned violent as soon as news of Collen's death was released.

We didn't know who released the information because the family had tried to cover it up, to grieve privately.

But somehow the media got hold of it.

I was on my way to check on Ravenna when I spotted a man crouched near the stone wall outside Daniel's main packhouse.

He was setting something up.... firebombs, I realized with horror.

Small improvised explosives designed to burn the packhouse down.

The guards positioned at the front gate couldn't see him from their angle.

He would have succeeded if I hadn't happened to be walking past.

Rage flooded through me.

I grabbed the shotgun I kept in my vehicle, loaded with silver bullets for emergencies and approached silently.

"Step away from the wall," I commanded, raising the weapon.

The man spun around, his eyes wide.

Then he ran.

I fired a warning shot, and he stumbled.

The guards heard the gunshot and came running.

We subdued him quickly, but the incident left me shaken.

Someone had tried to burn down the packhouse with Ravenna inside.

My mate had been in danger, and I hadn't even known.

That's when I threw myself completely into the investigation.

I was desperate for any lead, any clue that could tell us who was behind this nightmare.



Marcus joined me in the investigation, his grief over Collen transforming into cold determination.

We worked together following money trails, questioning informants, tracking rogue movements across multiple territories.

It was slow, painstaking work.

But gradually, patterns began to emerge.

The rogues executing the kidnappings were all connected to one pack: Northfang.

And they weren't random criminals or desperate outcasts.

They were professional killers.

"This is organized," Marcus said one evening as we pored over maps and financial records. "Whoever is behind this has serious resources."

I nodded grimly. "The question is who. Who has the motivation and the means to orchestrate something this massive?"

Marcus pulled out a folder I hadn't seen before.

"I intercepted some communications," he said quietly. "Between Northfang operatives."

He spread several documents across the table—transcripts of coded messages, financial transfers, movement orders.

"Northfang isn't acting alone," Marcus said, his voice hard. "They're following orders from someone higher up the chain."