Chapter 150
Asher
I yanked him back, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster, and got in his face. "Listen to me," I said, letting my Alpha command bleed into every word. "We need her testimony. We need every detail she can remember about that male. If you kill her now, we lose that information. Is that what you want?"
Blake's chest heaved, his eyes pure gold, fangs already extending. But slowly, agonizingly, he pulled his wolf back, the shift reversing with visible effort. When he could speak again, his voice was hoarse. "She saw him. She talked to him. And she didn't think it was worth mentioning that a Russian male was scouting our territory right before our mate got snatched by Konstantin's men."
"I know." I released him carefully, ready to grab him again if he lunged. "And she'll live with that guilt for the rest of her life. But right now, she's our best lead on identifying one of the kidnappers."
Through the glass, we watched as Drake continued his questioning, extracting every detail Crystal could remember—the exact location of the encounter, the time of day, what the man had been wearing, any distinguishing features. She was sobbing now, mascara running down her face, her carefully maintained composure completely shattered.
"She really didn't know," Cole said quietly, his analytical mind already processing the information. "She's not smart enough to be a willing accomplice. She's just... self-absorbed and stupid. She saw something suspicious and didn't report it because it didn't directly affect her interests."
"Which makes her negligent, not traitorous," I agreed, though the distinction felt meaningless when Kara was still missing. "But Drake's right—her description matches the scent profile from the roof. Tall, Russian, tactical gear. It was either Alexei or Viktor doing reconnaissance."
Blake's hands were shaking as he pushed away from the wall. "Two weeks. They'd been watching for at least two weeks. Planning, learning our routines, figuring out how to get to her." His voice broke. "And we had no fucking clue."
The weight of that failure sat heavy on all of us. We'd been so focused on winning Kara's trust, on making up for our past sins, that we'd failed to protect her from new threats. We'd let our guard down, assumed the territory was secure, never imagined that someone would be bold enough—or desperate enough—to strike at the heart of our pack.
Drake stood, signaling that the initial interview was complete. "Ms. Vance, you're going to work with our sketch artist to create a composite of the male you encountered. Every detail you can remember, no matter how small. Understood?"
Crystal nodded frantically, still crying. "Yes. Yes, anything. I'm so sorry. Please, I didn't mean for any of this—"
"Your intentions don't matter," Drake said flatly. "Only the consequences. Now go."
As she was escorted out, still sobbing, Drake turned toward the mirrored glass, knowing we were watching. He made a throat-cutting gesture—she's not the leak, move on.
"Who's next?" Blake asked, his voice still rough but more controlled now that he had something concrete to focus on.
I consulted Drake's list. "The three girls from Northern High. Then the lone wolves. Then the ones with Russian connections." I met my brothers' eyes. "We find out who else knew. Who else saw something and didn't report it. And we figure out exactly how much Konstantin knows about our territory and our mate."
"And then?" Cole asked, though I could feel through our bond that he already knew the answer.
"And then," I said, my black ebony darkening to something that smelled like a funeral pyre, "we make them all regret the day they ever heard the name Kara Sterling."
The next two hours were a study in controlled fury and methodical investigation. Drake worked through the suspects with the precision of a surgeon, extracting information, reading body language and scent signatures, separating genuine ignorance from willful negligence from potential complicity.
The three young females from Northern High—Ashley, Morgan, and Tessa—were brought in together, their unified front of mean-girl solidarity crumbling the moment Drake's cold gray eyes fixed on them. They reeked of anxiety and cheap perfume, their wolves cowering under the weight of Alpha displeasure radiating from the observation room.
"You've all had... interactions with Kara Sterling," Drake said, the word 'interactions' loaded with meaning as he pulled up documentation of every cruel comment, every social media post, every hallway confrontation that our security team had catalogued over the years.
Ashley, the ringleader with bleached blonde hair and a perpetual sneer, tried to maintain her composure. "We go to the same school. Of course we've interacted."
"You called her 'Carrot' in front of the entire cafeteria three weeks ago," Drake countered. "You posted on social media that she was 'climbing her way out of the gutter on her back.' You started a rumor that she'd seduced all three Alphas simultaneously to secure her position." He leaned forward. "That's not interaction. That's targeted harassment."
Morgan, the weakest link, started crying immediately. "We were just jealous, okay? She's nobody—she was literally a servant—and then suddenly she's got three Alphas falling all over her, and we just... we said mean things. That's all. We didn't do anything else."
Behind the glass, Blake's lip curled. "Mean things. Like that's supposed to make it better."
But Drake was already moving, his nose twitching as he scent-tested each girl in turn. "Did any of you have contact with anyone outside the pack regarding Kara Sterling? Anyone asking questions about her, about the Alphas, about pack security?"
Three heads shook in frantic unison.
"Did you notice anyone watching the school, following Kara, showing unusual interest in her schedule or habits?"
More head shakes, and this time I believed them. Their scents were sour with fear and guilt, but there was no deception, no hidden knowledge. They were exactly what they appeared to be—petty, jealous girls who'd made Kara's life hell out of spite but had no involvement in her abduction.
"They're clear," I said through the observation room's intercom to Drake. "But put them on notice—any more harassment of our mate, any more social media posts, any more cruel comments, and they're exiled from pack lands. Permanently."
I watched their faces go white as my words echoed through the interrogation room. Good. Let them be afraid. Let them understand that Kara wasn't the powerless debt slave they'd tormented anymore. She was our Luna, and anyone who hurt her would answer to us.
The two lone wolves were next—a twenty-three-year-old male named Derek who'd joined the pack six months ago, and a thirty-year-old female named Sarah who'd arrived three months back. Both had been vetted, but clearly not thoroughly enough.
Derek was sweating before Drake even asked the first question, his scent profile spiking with anxiety that immediately put us on alert. But as the interrogation progressed, it became clear he was simply terrified of authority figures, a trauma response from whatever had driven him from his birth pack. His alibi for the night of the abduction was solid—he'd been working a double shift at the lumber mill, with time cards and witness statements to back it up.
Sarah was more composed, her wolf more settled, and her story checked out as well. She'd come from a pack in British Columbia that had collapsed due to Alpha succession disputes, had no ties to Russia or organized crime, and had been nowhere near the estate on the night Kara was taken.