Chapter Seventy-Two: Carol's POV
He gestured for me to follow him to his desk, where several stacks of old file folders lay spread across the dark wood surface.
"I managed to gain access to several years of Council archive records." Maurice opened the cover, revealing the contents beneath.
It was an official incident report, dense text, bureaucratic tone.
"Your father, Osmon Valodin. The official cause of death was listed as combat-related injuries sustained during a Council-sanctioned overseas operation."
I already knew this. Simon had told me fragments, though he was always careful about how much to share whenever this topic came up.
But Maurice's tone told me there was more.
"However," he continued to the next page, a document that looked like an autopsy report.
"When I cross-referenced with the medical examiner's findings, I found a discrepancy. The fatal wound wasn't from conventional weapons, or even from another werewolf's claws. It was a silver bullet."
He tapped the relevant section with his finger.
"But this wasn't an ordinary silver bullet. Its craftsmanship was highly specialized, military grade, specifically designed for werewolf physiology. The bullet had an internal fragmenting structure that dispersed silver particles through the bloodstream upon impact. This isn't something you can buy at a street arms shop. It's custom-made, expensive, and as far as I know, until recently it was exclusively manufactured by one source."
My breathing became shallow. Silver bullet. Specialized. Military grade.
The same words Clara had used describing Simon's wound, the bullet that nearly killed him.
"The Blackwood family," I blurted out, it had to be them. "They supply weapons to the Andreas pack."
Maurice's lips curved slightly, "If the ammunition that killed your father nine years ago and the one that hit Alpha Volkov in the recent ambush are the same batch..."
"Then the Andreas pack has been planning this for years." My voice was very low.
"This isn't just about current territorial disputes, or the alliance with the Carter family. They've been systematically targeting Valodin leadership."
"It would appear so." Maurice closed the folder with a decisive snap.
"But proving it will be much harder than finding these connections."
Before I'd recovered from what he'd just said, Hilda's voice came over.
She stood by the lab bench, holding a tablet, her face expressionless.
"Speaking of the Andreas family," she began, her tone neutral but clearly having listened in.
"I have some intel. Last week I gathered some information in New Orleans, from a Carter family intermediary currently in Council detention. According to him, the Andreas family isn't just consolidating their weapons line. They're actively recruiting rogue wolf packs along the East Coast, specifically targeting lone wolves and small packs dissatisfied with the existing hierarchy."
Hilda swiped on her tablet, turning it so we could see—a map covered with dense red markers.
"These are confirmed locations where Andreas family operatives have been spotted in the past month. They're trying to establish a new supply route, completely bypassing Valodin territory border patrols, going through the south side of Seattle territory. This isn't preparation for a single raid. This is systematic encirclement. They want to cut off Valodin family's resource network, isolate us economically and politically first, then strike the fatal blow when we're weakest."
Maurice seemed to have nothing more to add.
The lab returned to normal.
Instruments humming low, no one mentioned what we'd just discussed. Thoughts spinning too fast in my head to sort them out.
The specialized silver bullets, my father's death, Simon's recent injury...
All of it pointed to the same thing: a plan to attack the Valodin family from multiple angles simultaneously, years in the making.
And I stood at the center of it all. Whether I wanted to or not.
I almost unconsciously walked to an empty workbench, pulled on a white lab coat from the hook by the door, sat on the high stool.
Tying back my hair, adjusting the microscope, arranging the slides in order—this routine should have been grounding, should have given me something concrete to focus on while my brain churned through this new information.
I stared at the cells under the lens, but they wouldn't come into focus.
My mind was full of specialized silver bullets, my father's death, Simon's injury.
The Andreas family had been planning, for years. These thoughts kept circling, making my temples throb.
I took a deep breath, trying to pull my attention back to the work at hand. My fingers adjusted the focus, but the image was still blurry.
Then, somehow, I suddenly thought of Simon.
His lips against the corner of my mouth, the warmth of his palm when he held my face, the way he kissed me.
I ran this morning.
Because I didn't know how to stand in front of him, pretending that kiss was nothing.
But now, knowing the bullet that hit him might have come from the same source that killed my father.
Knowing he survived what should have been a fatal attack, still found the strength to pull me into his arms and kiss me.
I couldn't tell anymore if I was running from him, or from myself after being kissed by him, not knowing how to face all of this.
My hands started shaking, the image under the microscope blurred even more.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, trying to push those images out of my mind.
"Carol."
Maurice's voice was close enough to make me flinch.
I pretended to adjust the microscope angle, avoiding his gaze.
"You seem distracted. Should we wait until you can concentrate before we discuss the analysis in detail?"
I looked up to find him standing closer than I'd realized.
Close enough to smell his faint cologne, and underneath that unclear metallic scent.
"I'm fine," I forced my voice steady. "Just thinking about the Andreas family situation, trying to connect it with previous intel, it's a bit confusing."
Maurice looked at me for a few more seconds, then nodded slightly, stepping back half a step.
"Understandable. Take your time. The samples can wait."
The sun slowly descended, amber and golden light washing the entire lab in a warm glow.
Considering we'd spent the whole afternoon discussing such dark matters, this beauty seemed unreal.
Leah packed up to meet her study group, Paul quietly said goodbye and left. Then Hilda left too.
I finished organizing the test reports in my hands, preparing to give them to him and leave.
The door was slightly open, through that gap I saw him sitting in his chair, head tilted back, eyes closed.
The expression on his face looked like exhaustion, or pain, maybe both.
For just a moment, only a brief second, he looked almost human, almost vulnerable, making something twist gently in my chest.
He opened his eyes, looking at me. Those deep blue eyes, reminding me of memories I didn't want to recall. That sympathy quickly faded.
"Professor?" I tried to make my voice sound normal. "Are you alright?"
Maurice straightened in his chair. The professional polite expression quickly returned to his face.
"Carol. I thought you left with the others."
"I was just catching up on some notes," I lied.
The real reason, that I couldn't leave him alone like this, was too complicated, I hadn't figured it out myself.
"But you look... unwell. Should I call someone?"
"No." He answered too quickly, then softened his tone.
"No, that's not necessary. Just too much work lately, not enough rest, my oversight." He smiled, as if trying to be reassuring.
"There are blood bags in the cold storage room down the hall. Medical research samples, suitable for my needs. Could you get one for me, the access code is 4739."