Chapter 96

Chapter 96

Deep in the backwoods, Catherine sat with Emberclaw and its wolf pack, the atmosphere around them safe and serene. She pulled out some specially made jerky from her small bag and handed it to the eager wolf pups gathered around her.

Emberclaw lay quietly by her side, like a loyal guardian.

Gently stroking Emberclaw's soft neck fur, Catherine whispered, "I found some clues about Ms. Scott. Maybe soon, I'll uncover what really happened back then."

She paused, gazing at the distant lights flickering at the foot of the mountain. "When this is all over, I plan to settle down at the base of the mountain. Then, I can visit you all the time."

Emberclaw nudged her arm with its head, a satisfied purr rumbling from its throat.

As night deepened and the mountain wind grew colder, Catherine knew that the "net" Amara and Gavin had set was tightening, and Richard's search below the mountain was about to begin.

But she wasn't worried. In this mountain, which she knew intimately and where she had the most reliable allies, she was the true master. The game had just begun.

She even looked forward to seeing the expressions on those self-assured hunters' faces when they realized they had become the prey.

Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the smooth wolf fang whistle hanging around her neck. The cool touch penetrated her thin clothes, seeping into her skin and awakening buried memories.

She was only six years old when the rough hands of kidnappers covered her mouth and nose, and the shadow of death loomed over her. Just as she thought she would suffocate, a figure appeared like a phantom.

She couldn't see the person's face, only remembering those eyes, bright and sharp like stars dipped in ice. It was this person who saved her and handed her the wolf fang whistle.

"Blow it, and the forest will respond to you," the person's voice carried a reassuring strength.

She timidly took the whistle, its cool surface smooth to the touch, with the natural patterns of the wolf fang faintly visible.

For self-preservation and to find Aurora, she began a decade-long disguise. The wolf fang whistle became her only link to the past.

She had blown it countless times in the deserted forest, initially out of fear and desperation, later with longing and a faint hope.

Until one day, the forest's response was no longer the empty sound of the wind. A snow-white wolf pup appeared, wobbling towards her.

It licked her dry lips from blowing the whistle, nuzzling her palm with its furry head. That was Emberclaw, her most loyal companion, and a silent guardian Aurora left for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden dizziness, her forehead hitting the rough tree trunk with a dull pain.

Catherine shook her head, trying to clear the blur from her vision. She remembered being drawn by the whistle in Amara's hand.

After that... it seemed she tripped on something, then rolled down and lost consciousness.

The Smith Villa.

Dinner had long passed, and Richard sat at the head of the table, his utensils untouched. The butler stood nearby, not daring to make a sound.

"Catherine hasn't returned yet?" Richard's voice was calm, but the invisible pressure made the entire dining room's atmosphere tense.

"No, Mr. Smith. The search team checked the backyard and nearby areas, but no sign of her," the butler replied, sweat beading on his forehead.

Richard's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, each tap echoing like a drumbeat in the butler's heart.

Catherine enjoyed solitude but never disappeared without reason, especially not from the Smith Villa, and especially not after a recent altercation with Amara.

"Surveillance," he ordered succinctly.

"Yes, sir!"

Soon, the tech team pulled up the surveillance footage from inside and outside the Smith Villa.

The footage clearly showed Catherine being stopped by Amara in the garden that afternoon. The two seemed to have a heated argument.

Amara was visibly agitated, gesturing wildly, while Catherine, though appearing dazed, had a subtle tension in her body language. Amara then turned and ran towards the backwoods, with Catherine hesitating briefly before following.

The last frame showed Catherine disappearing into the path leading to the backwoods.

Richard's eyes darkened, like the sea before a storm. The backwoods were complex and treacherous at night.

"Seal off all exits from the backwoods, increase manpower, bring lighting and medical equipment, and search!" His voice was low but carried undeniable authority. "And..."

He paused, a flash of coldness in his eyes. "Find Amara."

"Mr. Richard Smith, Ms. Spencer... seems to be with Mr. Gavin Smith," a bodyguard reported quietly.

Richard's brow furrowed slightly. "Bring them both here."

Richard's study.

The atmosphere was as oppressive as solid ice. Richard sat behind his large desk, fingers interlaced, his cold gaze fixed on Amara, who had been brought in.

Gavin stood to the side, his expression grim.

"Where is Catherine?" Richard got straight to the point, his voice calm but heavy with an impending storm.

Amara instinctively flinched, then straightened her back, putting on an innocent facade.

"Richard... what are you talking about? Catherine is missing? I don't know... we were playing in the garden, then I went to find Gavin..." She blinked, trying to appear more believable.

Richard watched her poor performance, his expression unchanging. He had seen too many deceitful faces; Amara's tricks were transparent to him.

"Surveillance shows you had an argument, and she followed you into the backwoods," he stated plainly.

"What? We played for a bit, then I came back. Didn't Catherine follow?" Amara exaggeratedly covered her mouth.

"Could Catherine have gotten lost? Or... maybe she accidentally fell?" She glanced at Richard's face, secretly sneering.

So what if Richard wasn't foolish anymore? He was still a cripple! The Smith family would eventually belong to Gavin.

Clinging to Gavin was her smartest move now. She even cast a pleading look at Gavin.

Gavin, catching her glance, frowned deeper but remained silent. He couldn't gauge Richard's intentions and didn't dare intervene rashly.

Richard's patience had clearly worn thin. He slowly stood up, his leg slightly impaired, but his imposing presence only grew stronger. He walked step by step to Amara, looking down at her.