Chapter 113 Fragments of Evidence
Wynter's POV
The safe house smelled of damp stone and old blood—Jax's scent mixed with dozens of other Rogues who'd sought refuge here over the years. I sat on the floor with the ledger spread across my lap, my hands trembling as I turned each charred page with desperate care.
Half the entries were illegible, reduced to blackened fragments that crumbled at my touch. The other half showed ghost images of text—faint impressions where ink had burned away but left shadows in the paper's weave. I could make out maybe thirty percent of the original content. Enough to know this was damning. Not enough to prove anything in a court or Council chamber.
"How bad?" Chase asked, crouching beside me. Through the Bond, I felt his guilt pressing against my ribs like a physical weight—guilt for not reaching Anne faster, for not preventing the shot, for every second of her capture.
"Bad," I whispered, my throat tight. "The section on my father's assassination is almost completely gone. Owen's testimony about the forged documents—barely readable. We have fragments, Chase. Just fragments."
Jax paced the small room like a caged wolf, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "Then we go back. We get Anne out, and we make Draven confess."
"With what leverage?" Chase's voice was harder than I'd ever heard it, the Alpha authority bleeding through despite his exhaustion. "We storm Bloodrock with a handful of Rogues and hope Draven just hands over his daughter and a signed confession?"
"We can't just leave her there!" Jax's voice cracked, and I saw his hands clench into fists. "She sacrificed herself for us. For this." He gestured at the ruined ledger with disgust. "And now we're going to abandon her because the evidence isn't perfect?"
The accusation hit me like a slap, because part of me agreed with him. Part of me wanted to drop everything and charge into Bloodrock's fortress, consequences be damned.
But the other part—the part that had learned strategy from my father, that had survived years of careful planning against my aunt and uncle—knew that rushing in would get us all killed and destroy Anne's sacrifice completely.
"He won't kill her," I said quietly, and both of them turned to stare at me. "Draven won't kill Anne. She's his daughter. His only child. Whatever else he is, he needs an heir. He needs the political capital that comes from having a daughter who can be married off to secure alliances."
"You're sure about that?" Jax demanded. "Because I've seen what Draven does to people who betray him. I've seen the bodies."
"I'm sure," I said, though my voice wavered slightly. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's doubt mixing with his desperate need to believe me. "He'll punish her. He'll make her suffer. But he won't kill her. Not yet. Not while she still has value."
The words tasted like poison, reducing Anne's life to a calculation of political worth, but I forced myself to continue.
"If we go after her now, with no proof and no allies, we'll die. And this—" I touched the ledger gently, "—will be destroyed. Everything Owen died for, everything Anne sacrificed for, it'll all be for nothing."
"So what do you suggest?" Chase asked, his hand finding mine and squeezing tight. "We just... wait?"
"We fix this first," I said, my voice growing stronger with certainty. "We find a way to restore the ledger. Then we take the evidence to your father and Lord Julian. We build a coalition strong enough to take Bloodrock down legally, with the full weight of Pack law behind us. And when we do—when we have Draven cornered with proof he can't deny—we demand Anne's release as part of his surrender terms."
Jax made a sound of disgust. "And if she dies while we're playing politics?"
"She won't," I said, meeting his eyes. "Because Draven's too smart to throw away his most valuable bargaining chip. Anne is leverage now. He'll keep her alive because he knows we'll come for her eventually, and he'll want something to trade."
The logic was sound, but it felt like betrayal anyway. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's conflicted emotions—his Alpha instinct to protect warring with his strategic mind that recognized the truth in my words.
"I hate this," Jax said finally, his voice rough. "I hate that you're right. But if we're doing this—if we're putting the ledger first—then we need to move fast. Every hour Anne spends in that place..."
He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. We'd all seen the bruises on Anne's ribs, the marks on her wrists. We knew what Draven was capable of.
"So how do we fix a burned book?" Chase asked, looking down at the ruined pages. "Is that even possible?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But—"
A knock at the door made us all freeze. Jax moved with predatory silence toward the entrance, one hand on the knife at his belt, while Chase positioned himself between me and the door, his Alpha presence flooding the room with protective fury.
"Who is it?" Jax called out, his voice carrying enough warning to make most people reconsider.
"Someone who might be able to help," a woman's voice answered, muffled by the heavy wood but carrying a note of weary authority. "Mrs. Thorne. I was Anne's governess before Lord Draven dismissed me. I heard what happened at Whispering Pines."
Jax and Chase exchanged glances. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's suspicion warring with cautious hope.
"How did you find us?" Jax demanded.
"I've been tracking Bloodrock's movements for three years, boy. Did you think you were the only one keeping tabs on Draven's operations?" A pause. "I knew Anne's mother. I held that girl when she was born. If there's even a chance I can help her now, I'm taking it. So either let me in or send me away, but decide quickly. I wasn't followed, but I can't guarantee how long that'll last."
Jax looked at me, the question clear in his eyes. I closed my eyes, reaching out through the Bond to Chase, trying to sense any danger.
She's telling the truth about Anne, I sent through our connection. I can feel it. She cares about her.
That doesn't mean she's not working for Draven, Chase warned, but I could feel his resolve weakening.
"Let her in," I said aloud. "But carefully."