CHAPTER 106: CHAPTER 106

Chapter 106

Kaeleen’s POV

The silence in my office was a heavy, suffocating blanket. It was the kind of quiet that only exists when the person who should be filling it is absent. I stared at the financial projections on my screen, the numbers blurring into meaningless symbols. My company was thriving, my pack was secure, and by all accounts, I should have been on top of the world. But my world had narrowed to a single, agonizing point of focus: Astrid.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t one big thing, but a hundred small, unsettling details. The faint, persistent shadows under her eyes that even her brightest smiles couldn’t hide. The way she would jump at the slightest sound when she thought I wasn’t looking. The way she clung to me at night, her grip almost desperate, as if she were afraid of drifting away in the darkness.

And she never told me what was wrong. She was pulling away from me, retreating into a place in her own mind where I couldn’t follow. And it was killing me.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather groaning in protest, and ran a hand over my face. I had thought we were past this. I thought after everything, after the bond, after she had chosen me, after we had finally, truly become one, that the walls would be gone for good. I thought she trusted me.

The door to my office opened, and Alex walked in, holding two cups of coffee. He placed one on my desk without a word and settled into the chair opposite me. As my best friend and advisor, he had a unique ability to read my moods.

"She still hasn’t told you, has she?" he asked, his voice calm and even.

I shook my head, taking a sip of the hot coffee. It did little to burn away the cold knot of frustration in my gut. "No. I ask her what’s wrong, and she gives me a tired smile and says it’s nothing. That she’s just adjusting. It’s a lie, Alex. I can feel it through the bond. She’s terrified of something, but she’s hiding it from me."

The hurt was a sharp edge in my voice. "I thought we were a team. I thought she knew she could tell me anything."

Alex took a slow sip of his own coffee, his gaze thoughtful. "She does trust you, Kaeleen. More than she’s ever trusted anyone,I think. At least that’s what I got from my wife. But you have to remember where she came from. For years, her survival depended on her ability to hide her true feelings. Leon trained her to believe that showing any kind of weakness, any kind of problem, would be used against her. That kind of conditioning doesn’t just disappear overnight, not even for a true mate."

"But I’m not Leon!" I snapped, my control slipping. I slammed my hand on the desk, rattling the coffee cups. "She knows that. She has to know that I would burn the world to the ground to keep her safe. Why can’t she just let me in?"

"Because the part of her that’s scared doesn’t listen to logic," Alex said, completely unfazed by my outburst. He was the only person besides Rebecca who could weather my temper without flinching. "The part of her that’s scared remembers the cage, not the key. When you’ve spent that long being punished for being honest, your first instinct is always going to be to hide. It’s not about you, Kaeleen. It’s about her scars. Give her time. Be patient. Be the safe harbor she needs, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready. And this is just an afterthought but what if she doesn’t want to depend on you and just wants to resolve this herself?"

I sank back into my chair, the anger draining out of me, leaving only a deep, aching worry. He was right. Of course, he was right. My frustration was selfish. It was my pride that was hurt. But my heart ached for her, for the silent battle she was clearly fighting all on her own.

"But I want her to depend on me." I grumbled.

"She’s friends with your sister and cousin. What part about those people screams dependent?" He asked me with a raised eyebrow.

Argh! I hated that everything he said made sense. The only thing I could do now was wait even if it killed me and to assist her in any way I could.

"Speaking of battles," he said, his tone shifting, becoming harder. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thin manila folder, sliding it across the desk towards me. "I have news."

I opened the folder. Inside were police reports, bank statements, and a photograph of a man with a greasy smile and shifty eyes. I recognized the case instantly. It was about Sarah, Rebecca’s best friend. The one who had died in a car crash some months ago while she was getting gifts for Rebecca’s baby.

The official report had called it a tragic accident. A drunk driver had swerved into her lane. But Rebecca had never believed it. She said Sarah was the safest driver she knew. She said it felt wrong. We had been investigating it quietly ever since.

"What did you find?" I asked, my voice low.

"Rebecca was right," Alex said, his own voice tight with a cold fury. "The driver wasn’t just drunk. He was paid. Half a million dollars was deposited into an offshore account in his name the day before the crash."

The air in the room turned to ice. A random tragedy was one thing. A targeted assassination was another. This was a direct attack on my family.

"Who paid him?" I growled, my eyes scanning the documents.

"That’s the problem," Alex said, pointing to the photograph. "This is the man who made the payment. A low level enforcer. He turned up dead a week after the crash. Overdose. Very convenient."

A dead end. Our enemies were thorough. They cleaned up their messes.

"So the trail is cold," I said, the words tasting like ash.

"Not entirely," Alex countered. "A man like that doesn’t just have half a million dollars to throw around. He was a middleman. Someone paid him. And while he was careful, he wasn’t perfect. I’m tracing the digital breadcrumbs, but it’s slow work. Whoever is behind this is a ghost."

I stared at the dead man’s face, a cold certainty hardening in my gut. This wasn’t a rival syndicate. The timing was too specific. A hit on my sister’s best friend, right when our family was celebrating. It was a message. It was cruel, personal, and designed to inflict emotional pain. It had all the hallmarks of one man.

Leon.

Before I could voice my suspicion, the sharp ring of Alex’s phone cut through the tension. He glanced at the caller ID, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face.

"It’s Shadow," He answered, his tone light. "What’s the emergency this time, Shadow?"

His expression changed instantly. The casual annoyance vanished, replaced by stark, white-knuckled panic. I could hear Shadow’s voice, tinny and frantic, spilling from the phone.

"...in pain... cramping really bad... I told her to call you, but she said it was probably nothing... she’s so stubborn, Alex... we’re at the hospital now..."

"Which one?" Alex demanded, already on his feet, his chair scraping violently against the floor. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the desk, his movements sharp and jerky.

He listened for another second. "I’m on my way."

He hung up, his face pale. "It’s Rebecca," he said, his voice strained. "She’s in pain. They’re at the hospital."

"Go," I ordered, standing up. "I’ll handle things here. Keep me updated."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was out the door in a flash, the calm, logical advisor replaced by a terrified husband who just wanted to get to his wife.

I stood alone in the sudden silence of the office, the two threats swirling in my mind. An invisible enemy tormenting my mate, and a very real one hunting my family. They felt connected, two fronts in the same war.

Alex was right. I couldn’t force Astrid to talk to me. I had to be her safe harbor. But that didn’t mean I had to be passive. I could hunt the monsters in the dark, so that she would finally have a place of true safety to land.

I picked up my own phone, my movements cold and deliberate. I scrolled through my contacts to a name that had no picture and no company affiliation, just a single letter: S.

The phone was answered on the first ring. "Yes?" The voice was quiet, professional, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"Silas," I said. "I have a job for you." I looked down at the dead man’s photo in the folder. "I’m sending you a file on a deceased enforcer. He was a middleman in a hit. I want to know everything about him. Who he talked to, where he ate, who paid for his last meal, and who paid for his funeral. I want to know who held his leash. I don’t care what it costs or what you have to do. Find the ghost."

"Consider it done," the voice on the other end said, and the line went dead.

I lowered the phone, a cold resolve settling over me. Let Leon pull his strings and whisper his curses. Let him think he was clever. He was hunting in my forest now. And I was coming for him.