Chapter 245

Chapter 245
Michael

Kevin's expression hardened, his face becoming a stone mask as he stared at his cup for a moment, knuckles white around the handle. "My parents... installed it on my phone without my knowledge," he said, each word seeming to cost him. "I didn't discover it until after they died."

I froze in front of the refrigerator, gripping the handle so tightly I half-expected the metal to bend under my fingers. My stomach sank. I knew what Kevin's parents had done to him before—using abuse rather than leadership, fear rather than respect. But each new detail sent a fresh wave of anger and pain through me, like salt on an open wound.

"What did they use it for?" I asked hesitantly, my voice softer, uncertain if I should press further. The air between us grew heavy with unspoken history. But for Isabella's sake, I needed to understand.

"The usual control tactics," he answered, his voice deliberately emotionless, as if discussing weather rather than his trauma. "Tracking me. Seeing when I went where, who I talked to, and whatever information they could pull from my phone activity." His expression remained impassive, but his scent betrayed him—bitter like burnt coffee, the smell of old wounds reopened.

I opened my mouth to offer some words of comfort, some acknowledgment of his pain, but he held up a hand to stop me, his expression a warning. "If you're about to apologize for something you had no part in, I might just make you taste what happens when two Alphas clash."

I nodded, swallowing my words and pivoting to a more technical question instead. "Did they ever remotely delete things from your phone? Is that even possible?" I leaned against the counter, trying to appear casual despite the tension vibrating between us.

"Possible, if it's set up right." Kevin frowned, his dark eyebrows knitting together. "I'll get someone to analyze her phone, see if they can detect any tracking software or programs that shouldn't be there." He took a sip of his coffee, his movements measured, deliberate.

I ran my fingers through my hair again, feeling restless energy coursing through me. I wanted to do something, anything, to find the bastard and make him pay for what he'd done. My foot tapped an impatient rhythm on the floor, my body betraying my anxiety.

"Fuck, this is insane," I sighed, setting down my cup with a clank. "This whole situation is insane. Why our little girl of all people?" My voice cracked slightly with emotion I couldn't fully suppress.

I thought about all the qualities Isabella possessed—the natural feminine allure she radiated without even trying; the sexiness that could drive any man with normal desires crazy; her genuine soul combined with those golden eyes that could shift from innocence to seduction in an instant. She was the embodiment of sin and virtue, too sweet to resist, too pure to corrupt. Just thinking about her made my chest ache with desire and fierce protectiveness.

"We'll find him," Kevin said firmly, his voice carrying a determination I rarely heard, his eyes flashing dangerous blue, indicating his wolf was close to the surface.

"Yes, we will," I agreed, my own eyes probably flashing with golden fire. I found myself imagining what we would do to the tracker once we found him—slow, methodical punishment—violent thoughts that should disturb the civilized man I prided myself on being.

After eight, I returned to my cabin to pack my things. I grabbed enough clothes and essentials for a week at Richard's, stuffing them haphazardly into a duffel bag, then drove to Isabella's apartment, my knuckles white around the steering wheel the entire journey.

I clutched her spare key—the only one any of us had. She'd mentioned it during a casual conversation, and I'd insisted on having a backup key, just in case. Now, though I knew it might violate her privacy, her safety mattered more than any damn boundaries.

I entered her dilapidated apartment building, immediately noticing the broken lock that would allow anyone easy access. No doorman, no surveillance cameras (except those Richard had installed), not even a functioning intercom system. The place was a criminal's paradise, and the thought of Isabella living here alone made my blood boil.

The stairwell reeked of stale cigarettes and mildew, with paint peeling off the walls in strips like dead skin. I took the stairs two at a time, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. I felt a flicker of pride for the cameras and sensors Richard had previously installed, but then hot anger that Isabella needed them in the first place. I swiftly made my way upstairs, securing her door with both locks before beginning to pack her things.

I moved through her tiny apartment like a man possessed, collecting all her clothing, carefully folding each item before placing it into the suitcase I found in her closet. I gathered her toiletries from the bathroom, her books from the nightstand, and the few photos she had stuck to her mirror. I also found the "envelope" she'd mentioned, containing the notes left by the harasser. I carefully placed these in a separate bag—these would be key evidence in our hunt for the bastard who dared threaten what was ours.

As I took one last look around the now-empty apartment, a stark reality hit me: Isabella wouldn't be coming back here. At least not alone. Never again. The bare walls and empty shelves seemed to echo with abandonment, but also with promise—the promise of a safer, better life.

I loaded the last box into my car, shutting the trunk with a satisfying thud, a strange sense of fulfillment rising in my chest. We were bringing Isabella home, not just temporarily, and Richard, Kevin, and I would all make damn sure of it.

Now that we had her back in our grasp, we wouldn't let her go again, not for a second time. This tracker might think he was driving us apart, but his actions had only bound us more tightly together, forging our connection in the flames of a common purpose.

I started the car with one thought beating like a war drum in my mind: protect our girl, at any fucking cost.