Page 68 of Rejected Exile

He glances up and frowns. "I didn't. That cabinet was full of personnel stuff."

"This drawer has some bits and pieces on the females who died," Kieran says, "but there's a good chunk of it gone. No sign of the files anywhere. I wonder if maybe this was something he was pursuing before he died."

Lance gets up and glances into the drawer. "Anything else?"

"There's also a few files missing in another drawer, one mostly full of odd bits and pieces of history," Roarke says, "but I wasn't sure if it might have anything to do with the curse. He left little flags where he took stuff out."

"I can't believe I missed that."

Kieran says, "They were crumpled down in the drawers, barely visible. We wouldn't have noticed if we hadn't just spent nearly an hour looking through these drawers and doing little else."

But Lance might have noticed earlier—if I'd encouraged him to spend more time in the office, instead of trying to find what he needed and leaving without looking deeper. It isn't my fault, given he was a stranger when he first came here, but I do wish that I'd been a bit more curious about my father's research into the curse. Especially now that I'm full of questions about its possible effect on me.

Lance turns to me. "Do you know where your father might've put files he was working on? I've checked in his desk drawer and there's nothing there. Maybe we can check his room, if that's okay with you."

"I didn't find anything in his bedroom when I was cleaning it out," I tell him, biting my lower lip as I consider all the options. One occurs to me, and it makes my stomach sink. "But I know exactly who would have the files, or at least know where they are."

"Niall," Finn supplies. "You're saying we should ask him?"

Lance frowns. "I asked him if he knew anything about the curse. He said he had no clue."

"But if my Dad had those files in his truck when he passed, Niall might've taken them somewhere safe. He had no reason to bring them back here to his home office—this is pack business, after all. And it wouldn't surprise me if he was too respectful to evenlookinside the files. He's probably planning on giving them to the new alpha after the Summit."

It would make sense—Niall was always exactly the type of second-in-command to obey my father's wishes unquestionably. That's not the kind of man who would look through his things after his death. He may not have even known what he was looking at."

Lance pulls out his phone, excitement on his face. "We're actually getting there—I can feel it. I'll just call him and see if he has the files."

He makes the call. His face lights up as he asks Niall if he has any files from my father's office. Giving me an ecstatic grin, he says, "We'll see you soon with them then, Niall. And no worries—you had no reason to believe William was keeping information about the curse in a few manila folders in his truck."

A few minutes after Lance hangs up the phone, the doorbell rings. I practically race down the stairs to open the door, startling Cat, who's sitting at the kitchen table reading a paperback book.

"Here's what you're looking for," Niall says, holding out a big stack of manila folders. "I was keeping it down at the head office. Figured the new boss would want it."

"Thanks." I shoot him a genuine smile, and he seems taken aback by it. "This is really going to help a lot."

Tilting his head back, Niall sniffs the air, and his brows furrow deeply. Then his eyes widen. "Delilah. Are you... is that a... wolf?"

"Yes." Lance approaches the doorway from behind my shoulder, and I turn to pass the files to him, knowing they'll be more use in his hands. "It's a long story, but I found my wolf. It turns out she wasn't hiding or non-existent at all. She just needed a little help."

"Huh." His face remains scrunched up in thought. "You haven't shifted yet, have you?"

"No."

"Good. Try to keep it that way for as long as possible." He reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out something thin, flat, and blue. "Your father loves you and misses you, I'm sure, but I doubt he wants you in the afterlife anytime soon."

Unfolding the blue object, Niall holds it out to me, revealing that it's a small blue folder with what couldn't be more than a few pieces of paper in it. "This one was separate from the others. I figured you'd want it too. It was scrunched up between the seats of the truck when I found it, so I doubt it's important, but you never know."

"Thanks."

I take the small blue folder, its middle creased from being folded up for so long, the blue paper worn from hands running over it again and again.

Glancing up a Niall, I murmur, "See you around."

"See you."

He turns slowly, then walks hurriedly down the porch steps. I watch him go, confused about the emotions swirling around inside me. It would be so easy to straightforwardly hate him—I have plenty of reasons to do so.

But he's suffered so much since I was exiled. I can't say he wasn't punished for what he did to me. And I know that he never would've done it if my father hadn't insisted it was the only way. As I shut the door behind him, I tell myself that it's good I don't have much resentment towards Niall. It doesn't make me weak—because hatred wouldn't make me strong.

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