The car rolled through the forest road and stopped before the Ravenwood Estate. The iron gates creaked open as if recognizing the fiery red cooper.
A woman stepped out, slamming the door to the drivers side. Her heels clicked against the stone path as she walked in, her face carved in calm fury.
None of the guards dared to speak. They bowed their heads instead, their omegas heavy with fear.
She didn't even glance at them. Omega or not, Sophie was nothing like the rest. Her aura alone could make most of them collapse.
Inside, whispers followed her down the grand corridor.
She didn't slow. She didn't blink.
When she reached the study, she rapped her knuckles against the heavy door once. Sharp, commanding.
Before Ronan could answer, her voice thundered through.
"Why are you following her?"
Max's hand froze on the doorknob.
Ronan looked up from his papers.
The next moment, the door flew open with a crash.
Sophie stormed in, eyes blazing.
"Clara has nothing to do with us!" she shouted. "Why are you keeping an eye on her?"
Ronan's gaze met hers—steady, cold.
The air thickened.
Sophie gasped as invisible weight pressed her to her knees.
"Sophie, what the hell are you doing here?"
Max growled, his jaw tight. His half-sister was going to get them both killed at this rate.
From the couch near the window, a man chuckled.
He'd been there the whole time, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers.
"Clara?" he repeated softly.
A grin curved his mouth.
"Hmf… what a beautiful name."
Ronan's head turned sharply toward him. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.
"Oh?" the man drawled, amused. "Looks like she's someone important."
That was all it took.
Ronan's pupils bled red.
The faint echo of his wolf Draven, growled through the silence.
Max stepped back. Sophie's breath hitched.
The pressure in the room thickened until even the walls seemed to tremble.
Seeing the sudden change in his usual calm demeanor, Jacob stood up, releasing an equally powerful aura. His eyes shimmered green and silver as he gradually closed the distance toward Ronan.
Max collapsed to his knees. Sophie's heart felt as though it might burst from her chest. She couldn't move a muscle.
Ronan and Jacob faced off, locked in a silent battle of wills.
At last, Jacob chuckled. "Brother! Look at you being so serious!" His eyes glinted silver as he spoke.
Max exhaled in relief as Ronan gradually withdrew his power. Stepping closer to Jacob, Ronan said through gritted teeth, "Keep your rogues off my territory."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "To your own brother? How could you?" He feigned betrayal, turning toward the door.
"Ah… by the way…" He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's the one you saved in the woods, right?"
Without waiting for a reply, he walked off.
Ronan could almost feel Draven—his wolf—stretching claws, desperate to tear into Jacob.
Silence descended. Sophie, still kneeling beside Max, dared a glance only to find Ronan's piercing gaze fixed on her.
"Be by her side," Ronan commanded.
Sophie blinked, confused.
"And keep her away from here." With that, he rose and strode from the study, followed by a reluctant Max, leaving Sophie alone, her thoughts racing.
By the gates, Jacob stopped beside his sleek black Bentley and spoke in a low, measured voice.
"Keep an eye on a girl named Clara."
His beta, standing near the open car door, raised an eyebrow.
"Boss… is she your next… feast?" He licked his lips, hesitation creeping into his voice. But the sharp, piercing look Jacob gave him silenced any further words.
Without another word, Jacob slid into the car.
Louis, his beta walked towards the front, slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The car purred to life, cutting through the quiet of the estate as he drove off.
---
Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Clara sat on her bed, typing furiously on her laptop. The cursor blinked back at her as she finished her message:
Yours sincerely, Clara Jean.
She slammed the Enter key with a soft sigh of relief and stared at the "Delivered" popup, hoping her carefully crafted words reached the right eyes.
Her chest tightened with a mixture of hope and fear. Marlowe Industries was more than just a job—it was a connection to her past, to her mother, to the fragments of a life she'd barely remembered. She could almost see her mother's hands at a desk like this, the same intensity in her gaze as she signed papers and made decisions. Could she live up to that legacy? Could she find the truth hidden in those sterile office walls?
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She quickly closed the laptop, sliding it aside.
"Aunt May?" she called, trying to mask her impatience.
Aunt May entered, carrying a tray of freshly baked biscuits, her face lit with a cheerful smile.
"Just made these. I called you down a while ago, but you didn't respond." She placed the tray on the small table beside Clara.
"Ah… I was a little...busy," Clara murmured, half-chuckling.
"Busy? With what?" Aunt May asked, frowning slightly, curiosity piqued.
Clara hesitated for a moment, then admitted softly, "Applying for jobs."
"Jobs?" Aunt May's eyes widened, her hands resting on the tray.
"Ah, that's wonderful!" She sat beside Clara, her presence warm and grounding.
"I was just about to suggest the same. It's better than brooding here all day."
Clara blushed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Aunt May! You too? Sophie was telling me the same thing just yesterday…" She leaned forward and hugged her aunt briefly.
"But… I really want to stay home." Her voice softened, almost a whisper, as she snuggled closer.
Aunt May chuckled, her belly shaking with mirth. "You're not a little girl anymore, Clara."
"Sigh… if only Lucy were here…" Her eyes shimmered with a touch of sadness. Clara was a copy of her sister. Everytime she saw her, she got reminded of the old days when lucy played around in the same old house with her.
Clara's smile faded slightly.
Aunt May's hand rested gently on her shoulder.
"Aunt May…" Clara's voice faltered, but her next words carried determination.
"I… I applied to Marlowe Industries. The same company where Mom worked."
"You did what?" Aunt May pulled back slightly, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Clara, don't tell me—"
Clara looked down, fingers fiddling nervously. Her gaze lifted, fierce and honest, meeting her aunt's worried eyes.
"Aunt May… I won't lose hope. I will do my best to uncover the truth!"
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Aunt May's lips pressed into a thin line before she finally exhaled, her hands gripping Clara's shoulders gently.
"I know you will… I just… worry about you, that's all."
Clara smiled faintly, the warmth of determination and reassurance mingling. "I can handle it," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
She sank back onto her bed, letting the biscuits sit forgotten on the table. Her mind raced with plans: researching the company, studying the hierarchy, remembering everything her mother had ever said about Marlowe Industries. The office wasn't just a workplace—it was a puzzle, a series of locked doors and whispered secrets. Somewhere in those corridors lay answers she had been chasing all her life.
Her thoughts drifted again, unbidden, to the strange man she had glimpsed in the woods—the one with the silver eyes. Even now, the memory sent a shiver down her spine. Why had he been there? Why did it feel as if he had been… waiting? Clara shook her head, trying to dismiss it. She didn't have time for fantasies or fear. She had work to do, connections to make, and the truth to uncover.
Still, there was a thrill in the uncertainty. The world outside her small bedroom seemed larger now, filled with unknowns, risks, and possibilities. And for the first time in weeks, Clara felt that spark—the quiet pulse of adventure, the first taste of being in control of her own story.
Aunt May gave her a small smile. She brushed Clara's hair lovingly as she said,
"Just… promise me you'll take care of yourself along the way."
Clara exhaled, straightening her shoulders, determination blazing in her eyes. "I promise. No matter what, I won't stop. This is my chance."
Aunt May nodded and left her alone.
The sun dipped lower, casting warm golden light across her room. Clara laid on her bed, her head resting on her arms. She stared at the window, imagining the path ahead, the mysteries waiting, and perhaps… the answers about everything- her parents death, the mystery behind it, and the mysterious encounter with that strange man. Not once, but twice.
She didn't know yet whether he would be friend or foe, protector or adversary, but somehow, she felt a quiet certainty that their paths would cross again.
And when they did, she would be ready.