Chapter 33 The Wrong Questions

Chapter 33 The Wrong Questions
DAVINA'S POV

By the time the crowd finally thinned out, my nerves felt like a tightly pulled bowstring, just waiting to snap. The hide had been taken down from the training post, but honestly, it didn’t matter. Every wolf in that yard had seen it. They all knew exactly who it was meant for. The message wasn’t just carved into skin, it was etched into the very air of this compound, and I was going to feel its weight every time I walked through here.

I trailed behind Caspian as we crossed the yard, the low hum of urgent conversations bubbling up in clusters behind us. The sky had darkened with storm clouds rolling in from the mountains, and a sharp wind sliced through the compound, carrying the fresh scent of pine and rain.

We didn’t say a word until we were safely inside his office, the door clicking shut behind us.

I turned to him right away. “You know something about that journal.”

He let out a slow breath and hung his coat over the back of a chair. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”

“It’s just an observation, not an accusation,” I shot back, folding my arms. “Stop deflecting.”

He studied me for a moment, then sank into his chair. “The symbol on that journal is old,” he said. “Older than this pack and older than most of the history we actually teach.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but he just pressed his lips together.

“That’s it?” I asked, feeling frustration bubble up. “That’s all you’re giving me?”

“For now, yes.”

“Caspian…”

Before I could finish, a sharp knock interrupted me.

“Come in.”

Logan stepped through the door, and the moment I saw his face, I knew whatever I was about to say didn’t matter anymore. His jaw was tight, and his eyes darted straight to Caspian.

“We found him,” he said, his voice steady.

Caspian shot up. “Where?”

“Eastern perimeter.” Logan’s gaze flicked briefly to me before returning to Caspian. “He was already dead when the patrol reached him.”

The room fell silent.

What hit me wasn’t just the news itself, it was the fact that neither of them looked surprised.
They were grim, tense, but not shocked. That meant they’d been expecting something like this. It meant there was a whole layer of things happening in this compound that I was completely oblivious to.

I stood up. “Who?”

Logan glanced at Caspian.

“The patrol wolf,” Caspian said quietly. “The one who found the message on the eastern border.”

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. “He’s dead.”

“Yes.”

Someone had killed a wolf for discovering a piece of carved skin. Whoever left that message wasn’t just making threats, they were sending a clear message.

“There’s something else,” Logan said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. It looked damp at the edges. He didn’t explain what it was, just set it on the desk and looked at Caspian, who unfolded it carefully and turned it toward me.

It was a grainy photograph taken from a distance, slightly blurred like images captured through cover.
At first I didn't understand what I was looking at, then recognition hit.

The training grounds, the dining hall, the main courtyard, the compound.
My hands suddenly felt cold.
There were dozens of photographs.
Different locations, different days, and different times.

But every single picture had one thing in common.
Me.

Walking to breakfast, chatting with Sloane outside the cabin, standing at the archive window at night, thinking I was alone. Coming back from the training ground with my hair still damp.
My throat went dry.

Someone had been following me.
For days, maybe weeks.
The realization made my skin crawl.
I looked up slowly.

“You knew,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We suspected something like this was definitely going to happen,” Caspian replied.

I moved away from the desk and started pacing because I couldn’t stay still with this weight in my chest. The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls closing in. I thought about every morning I’d walked across the compound, feeling like I was being watched, convincing myself I was imagining it. I hadn’t been imagining anything. Someone had been there with a camera every single time.

Then something clicked, and I stopped in my tracks.

“The person who led me to the journal this morning,” I said, turning to face them. “They knew exactly where I’d go.” I glanced at the photographs spread across the desk. “They’ve been studying me. That’s why they could lead me there. They knew I’d follow.”

Caspian’s expression changed.

“The journal wasn’t hidden, someone put it right there, knowing I’d end up in that room.”

“Yes,” Caspian said quietly.

“Which means whoever is doing this isn’t just trying to scare me out of the compound.” I locked eyes with him. “They need me to find something. Or they need me to know something.” I paused, my heart racing. “Why? What’s in that journal that someone wants me to see?”

Before he could respond, Logan’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his face went still.

“It’s Zane,” he said, answering the call.

I watched him listen, the color draining from his face bit by bit.

“Logan.” Caspian’s voice was sharp. “What happened?”

Logan lowered the phone, his eyes finding mine first, which told me whatever was coming next involved me in some way.

“Jax is gone.” His voice was flat. “His room was empty when they checked an hour ago.”

“He probably ran,” Caspian said immediately.

“Maybe.” Logan set the phone down on the desk. “But they found blood in his room.”

The storm outside finally broke, rain hammering against the windows, and nobody in that room moved or spoke. We were all doing the same calculation, and none of us liked where it led.

Jax was either running, or Jax had been taken.
And either way, tomorrow’s fight was no longer the most dangerous thing happening in this compound.