Page 36 of Fated Wolf's Destiny

“A witness? To what?”

“A local hiker who remembers seeing a truck parked near the old logging camp the afternoon Arthur died. Out-of-state plates, partial license number.”

My heart skips a beat. “You think it’s connected to Arthur?”

Barnes shrugs, his expression carefully neutral. “Can’t say for sure. But a truck like that, hanging around where it doesn’t belong… it’s worth looking into.”

I nod, already piecing things together in my mind. Arthur’s notes, the mutant wolves, the chemical compound—it all feels tied to something bigger, and this could be the first solid lead we’ve had.

“What did the witness say about the driver?” I ask. “Anything distinctive?”

“Didn’t see much,” Barnes replies. “Said the truck was parked at the edge of the woods, no lights, no movement. By the time they circled back, it was gone.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, frustration building. It’s not much, but it’s something. “And you’re sure it wasn’t just a random camper or hunter?”

His gaze sharpens. “I think you’ve been here long enough to know we don’t get random tourists around these parts. If someone local spots an unfamiliar vehicle just hanging around, it’s a pretty good guess that whoever owns it is up to something.”

The weight of his words settles over me, heavy and undeniable.

“What’s the plan, then?” I ask, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through me.

Barnes crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d see if Ryder or Lucas wanted to do some kindof stakeout. I have to stay here in town in case there’s an emergency.”

“I’m going with them.”

“I doubt they’ll want that, but I also doubt that will keep you away. I think you should set up near the area where the truck was seen, see if it comes back or if we can catch anyone else sniffing around.”

My pulse quickens at the suggestion. “You think it’s tied to the Crimson Claw?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Could be. Or it could be tied to something else.”

“Something else?” I repeat, the words hanging in the air between us.

Barnes shifts, his voice lowering. “Illegal hunting and tree harvesting have been a problem around here before, but this feels different. More coordinated. More dangerous.”

The unspoken words hang between us, and I know he’s holding something back. But right now, I don’t care. This is my chance to figure out what might have gotten Arthur killed.

“When do we start?” I ask, my resolve hardening.

Barnes tilts his head slightly, studying me. “Tomorrow night. I’ll handle the logistics. I’ll tell Ryder I want you there, but it’s anyone’s guess whether he’ll allow it.”

“Last time I checked, Sheriff, Ryder wasn’t my alpha,” I say, using the term in a way that lets him know I am no longer completely clueless.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze lingering on me like he’s weighing my words. Then he nods, tucking the notepad back into his pocket. “That’s between you and him.”

After he leaves the clinic, I sink into my chair, staring at the closed notebook in front of me. My thoughts race, the pieces of the puzzle spinning in my mind as I try to fit them together.

A truck, out-of-state plates, mutants, and Arthur’s death. It’s all connected, and this stakeout may be able to give us the answers we’re looking for.

The cold air bites at my skin as I step outside the clinic, the soft glow of the porch light spilling across the gravel lot. The frustration churning inside me feels like it might boil over at any second, and when I see Ryder leaning casually against his truck at the edge of the parking lot, it’s the final straw.

I approach him, the gravel crunching under my boots. He straightens when he sees me, his broad shoulders stiffening, his expression unreadable. The shadows from the trees dance across his face, but his eyes gleam, locking onto me like he’s been waiting for this.

“You’ve been watching me,” I accuse, my voice sharp and unwavering. “And I’m done pretending I don’t notice.”

Ryder’s jaw tightens, and he pushes off the truck, his hands sliding into his pockets. “It’s not safe for you out here alone,” he says, his tone low and measured.

“Cut the crap,” I snap, stepping closer. “You’re here, so I’m not alone. You’re not just keeping an eye on me because you’re worried about what I might find. You’re worried about something you know is out here. Something about Arthur, the Crimson Claw, all of it. And I’m tired of you dodging my questions.”

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