CHAPTER 117:What Was Stolen
ADAM
I didn't know what to say.
Her story hit harder than I expected, lodging itself somewhere deep in my chest like a thorn.
Her father betrayed her. Her own blood. And not just emotionally he threw her to the wolves, metaphorically at least. If I weren’t one myself, I might have found the irony amusing.
But it wasn’t funny. It was cruel.
And for some reason, it made me angry.
I shouldn’t care this much.
My father warned me Never get involved in human affairs.
And yet, here I am. Entangled. Again.
Caught in her mess, pulled in by her voice, her pain, her fire.
I exhaled heavily and rubbed the back of my neck, staring down the quiet path that led out of the woods. “I’ll walk you home,” I said finally, voice low.
She nodded without a word, and we began moving, step for step, side by side through the shifting silence. Streetlights glowed ahead, dim halos in the night. Neither of us spoke until we reached her front porch.
She stopped and turned to me, her eyes searching mine. Something about the way she looked at me made it hard to look away.
I sighed, softer this time. “Can I… see everything? Everything about your father?”
Her expression changed instantly eyes brightening, lips parting with something close to relief. “Follow me,” she whispered and slipped her hand into mine before I could react.
Her house was the kind people drove past without a second glance small, tucked between two aging apartment buildings, its white paint faded to eggshell. But once inside, the air shifted. Warmth clung to the walls like memory. Faint hints of vanilla and jasmine curled in the air, subtle and grounding. It smelled like safety.
She kicked off her shoes and padded across the floor, motioning for me to follow. Her footsteps were light, careful, like someone used to walking alone in a world that could break under too much weight.
Her room sat at the end of a narrow hallway. It was tiny barely enough space for a bed, a desk, and a chair but it was hers. The blanket on the bed was floral, hand-stitched, maybe passed down or bought secondhand. Books were stacked unevenly on a shelf that leaned slightly to the left. A candle sat on the windowsill, long melted down to a stub.
The whole room whispered of a girl who’d held onto the soft things in life while the world tried to turn her cold.
“You want coffee?” she asked, turning to glance at me with a crooked smile. “You look like the type who growls until caffeine hits your bloodstream.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Let’s skip the bonding and get to the part where you tell me why I’m here.”
She smirked, undeterred, and moved to a drawer beneath the bed. As she pulled it open, I caught the flash of tension in her shoulders. Her fingers sifted through papers until she drew out an old newspaper, folded and worn soft from being touched too many times.
She laid it on the table with the kind of care you give to things that hurt to look at but mean too much to throw away.
“There,” she said quietly, pointing.
The photo was black-and-white, edges curled like they’d tried to retreat from the truth. A man stood in the center, posture stiff, mouth set in a hard line. Beside him, a woman with tight lips and judgment in her eyes. Between them, a girl with a smirk that spoke of entitlement and cruelty dressed up in pearls.
“That’s him,” she said. “My father. The woman is my stepmother. And that’s their daughter my stepsister.”
Her voice didn’t tremble. But when I looked at her, her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, knuckles pale.
“They’re the ones who killed my mother,” she said. “Slowly. With neglect, with hate, with silence. And after her funeral, they tossed me out like I was something that didn’t belong anymore.”
I didn’t speak. I let the quiet stretch, let her words hang in the room like smoke.
She stood there, jaw tight, as if holding back the flood.
“I want them to feel what I felt,” she said. “Alone. Powerless. Betrayed by the one person who was supposed to love them.”
I turned back to the newspaper, scanning past the photo to the headline and text. One line caught my eye, printed in bold beneath the family name:
Vallaire & Co.
I froze.
That name.
James had mentioned it last week.
Our last meeting was tense as always but that name stuck.
Vallaire & Co.
A human company known for worming their way into supernatural affairs, poking holes in barriers they didn’t understand.
James, our pack’s Earth-side liaison, told me to steer clear of them. Said they were sniffing around ancient contracts and magical assets. Greedy. Reckless.
Typical humans with too much money and not enough sense.
I hadn’t paid attention. Now I wish I had.
I set the paper down and looked at her. Really looked at her.
The anger in her hadn’t hardened her. It had sharpened her.
She wasn’t broken.
She was waiting.
“I’ll help you,” I said, and the words felt like something bigger than a promise.
Her eyes widened. And without thinking, she threw her arms around me quick, like the hug had been waiting just under her skin.
“Okay, this is getting weird,” I muttered, pulling back.
She grinned as she fell into her seat again, a little too pleased with herself. “Sorry,” she said, but the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
“Did your mother leave a will?” I asked, leaning forward.
She nodded, sobering instantly. “Yes. She left everything to me. Her shares in the company. The house. Even her last name. She wanted me to keep it all.”
I frowned. “Then what happened?”
“My father showed up with another will. Said hers was forged. He had lawyers. Influence. Power.” Her voice tightened. “And I was just a grieving girl with nothing but the truth.”
I sat back slowly, a smile creeping to the corner of my mouth. Not from amusement. From recognition.
This was no longer about sympathy.
Her father played dirty. Faked a document. Robbed his own daughter.
He thought he’d buried the truth.
But he hadn’t counted on her.
And he sure as hell hadn’t counted on me.
The wolves of Sterling Heights don’t forget injustice.
And we don’t forgive it.
He thinks he’s won.
Let’s see how he handles losing everything.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Your time and support mean the world to me. Every like, comment, and share keeps this story alive and inspires me to keep writing. I love hearing your thoughts, so don’t be shy tell me what you think about Adam finally stepping into the messy world of humans.
Do you think he’s making the right choice by getting involved? Or should he have stuck to his promise and stayed away? I’m excited to hear your opinions!
Thanks again for being part of this journey. Your feedback helps shape the story and makes it even better.