Chapter 24 The Manipulation
Maya Pov
The note burned in my hand beneath the table, those words replaying in my mind over and over. Meet me in the garden at midnight. Come alone. -L. Leo wanted to speak with me privately, away from his father's watchful eyes and the pack's curious stares. Every rational part of me knew this could be a trap, another manipulation in Marcus's twisted game. But something deeper pulled at me, something I couldn't explain or ignore.
I looked up and caught Leo's gaze across the table. He wasn't smiling or threatening. He just looked desperate, like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. His eyes held something familiar, something that made my chest ache with recognition I couldn't quite grasp. When Marcus turned to address a pack elder about territory disputes, Leo mouthed two words that made my blood freeze: Please. Brother.
My fork clattered against my plate, the sound sharp in the momentary lull of conversation. Ryker's hand found mine under the table, steadying me, grounding me before I could spiral into panic. Brother. Leo had called himself my brother. The birth certificate hidden in that wall compartment flashed through my mind—different parents, scientists Marcus claimed were dead, a past I'd never known existed. Could Leo be part of that past? Could we share blood, share history, share the same nightmare of genetic modification Marcus seemed so obsessed with?
"Is everything alright, Maya?" Marcus's voice cut through my thoughts, smooth and concerned in a way that made my skin crawl. "You look pale. Perhaps the rich food doesn't agree with you?"
"I'm fine." I forced myself to meet his eyes, to project calm I didn't feel. "Just thinking about everything that's happened today. It's been overwhelming."
"I imagine it has." Marcus leaned back in his chair, swirling wine in his glass with casual elegance. "Finding hidden documents, making wild accusations, disrupting my pack's peace. That would overwhelm anyone."
The implication hung heavy in the air. He was warning me, reminding me that he still held power here, that I was a guest who could be expelled at any moment. But he was also playing to his audience, the dozens of pack members watching our exchange with keen interest. Whatever happened next would become pack gossip within hours.
"Speaking of disruptions." Sienna's voice was honey-sweet poison as she turned toward me, her perfect smile not reaching her cold eyes. "I noticed you've been asking questions about your parents, Maya. Such a tragic story, losing them so young. Do you remember much about them?"
I felt Ryker tense beside me, felt Owen and Kade shift in their seats, ready to intervene if needed. But this was my fight, my past being weaponized against me. I had to face it myself.
"I remember enough." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "I remember they loved me. That they tried to protect me."
"Protect you from what?" Sienna tilted her head, feigning innocent curiosity. "From Marcus? From the pack? Or from yourself?"
The question hit like a physical blow. She knew something, had been told something by Marcus that she was now using to hurt me. I could see it in her eyes, in the cruel satisfaction that flickered there when she saw me flinch.
"That's enough, Sienna." Leo's voice surprised everyone. He'd been silent throughout the meal, barely touching his food, but now he spoke with unexpected firmness. "Maya is a guest. Show some respect."
"Respect?" Sienna laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "For someone who murdered her own parents? For a genetic experiment that should never have been allowed to exist?"
The dining hall went completely silent. Every conversation stopped, every fork paused midway to mouths, every eye turned toward our table. I felt the weight of their stares, felt judgment and curiosity and fear radiating from dozens of pack members who'd just heard me accused of murder.
"I didn't kill my parents." The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "Whatever lies Marcus has told you, whatever twisted version of events he's created, I didn't kill them."
"Then how do you explain the evidence?" Marcus's voice was calm, almost gentle, which made it infinitely more dangerous. "The confession letter written in your own handwriting, found at the scene of their deaths?"
My world tilted sideways. A confession letter? In my handwriting? That was impossible. I'd been seven years old when my parents died, barely able to write full sentences, let alone compose a confession to murder. But Marcus was watching me with such certainty, such confidence, that doubt crept into my mind like poison.
"There is no letter." Ryker stood, his chair scraping against the floor with harsh finality. "This is a fabrication, another attempt to discredit Maya and deflect attention from the evidence we found today."
"Is it?" Marcus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plastic evidence bag containing a folded piece of paper yellowed with age. "I had this stored in my personal vault, kept as evidence in case Maya ever returned to cause trouble. The handwriting experts confirmed it matches her juvenile writing style. The paper dates to the correct time period. The content is... quite disturbing."
He slid the bag across the table toward me. Through the plastic, I could see childish handwriting, uneven letters that looked terrifyingly like my own seven-year-old scrawl. My hands shook as I picked up the bag, as I read the words that couldn't possibly be real but looked undeniably authentic.
I'm sorry for what I did. The voices told me to do it. They said Mommy and Daddy were bad, that they hurt me, that I needed to make them stop. I didn't mean for them to die. I just wanted the pain to stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
The words repeated over and over, filling the page in increasingly frantic handwriting. At the bottom was a signature that made my stomach drop: Maya. Written exactly as I'd written my name at age seven, with the backward 'y' I hadn't learned to correct until I was eight.
"This isn't real." But my voice lacked conviction. The handwriting was too perfect, too exact. Either this was an incredibly sophisticated forgery, or I'd actually written this letter and had no memory of it.
"DNA evidence from saliva on the envelope seal confirms it's yours." Marcus's voice held false sympathy now, the tone of someone delivering tragic news to a delusional patient. "I'm sorry, Maya. I know you've convinced yourself that your parents' deaths were some external tragedy, but the evidence suggests otherwise. You killed them during a psychotic episode triggered by your genetic modifications. That's why I took custody of you. To prevent you from hurting anyone else."
I couldn't breathe. The dining hall spun around me, faces blurring into a mass of judgment and horror. Pack members whispered to each other, their voices rising like waves crashing against my consciousness. Murderer. Dangerous. Unstable. Monster.
"She was seven years old." Kade's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with anger. "Even if she did write this letter—which I don't believe for a second—you can't hold a traumatized child responsible for something that happened during a mental health crisis."
"Can't I?" Marcus stood, addressing not me but the assembled pack. "We've all heard stories about modified wolves losing control, about genetic experiments that went wrong and destroyed entire families. Maya's parents were scientists who experimented on their own daughter, who created modifications that made her unstable and violent. When she finally snapped, they paid the price for their arrogance."