Chapter 37: Chapter THIRTY SEVEN — A MURDERER AMONG US
Candace
The forest was alive around me, but all I could focus on was the man bleeding out against the tree.
I stopped several feet away, eyeing him warily. What if this was some kind of trap? After three years of my own people turning against me, I wasn’t taking any chances.
Moonlight filtered through the branches in silver ribbons, painting the forest floor in patches of light and shadow. Every dark space between the trees suddenly looked like a place someone could be hiding.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Was he really alone?
The man groaned again, his voice even weaker this time. He had one hand pressed uselessly to the deep gash in his side. It didn’t stop his blood from pooling around him, soaking into the earth. The metallic scent was overwhelming.
I shifted back, my bones cracking and reforming until I stood naked in the moonlight, the cold night air prickling my skin.
"Who are you?" I demanded. "What are you doing here?"
The man’s eyes fluttered open. Pain twisted his face. "Help... me..." he croaked. "Please..."
I didn’t move closer. "You answer me first. Who are you? Why are you bleeding in the middle of our forest?"
He coughed, blood staining his lips. "No time... it’s... seeping too fast..."
I could see that. The wound was brutal — deep, like claws or a blade had torn through him. Normally wolves healed fast, but this wound was too deep and he was losing blood too quickly.
Star paced anxiously inside me. He’s dying, Candy. We can’t just watch.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t be cruel to him. I had seen enough omegas in the kitchen treating wounds with forest herbs when the healers weren’t around.
He could die before I ran back to the packhouse to get help. And there was no way I could carry him back at full speed without him bleeding out on the way.
Keeping him in peripheral vision, I moved carefully towards the green shrubs, gathering some broad leaves and moss that I recognized. My hands worked quickly, crushing them into a thick paste between two stones.
"Stay with me," I muttered, kneeling next to him. "Who did this to you?"
He only groaned as I pressed the paste firmly into the wound. He hissed in pain but at least he didn’t try to claw at my face — so that was a win. The bleeding slowed after a few minutes and he groaned with relief.
"Thank you."
"Who are you?" I asked again, pressing harder. "What happened?"
"Nothing... you need to know," he rasped, his eyes half-lidded.
Frustration boiled in my chest. "You’re in my pack’s territory, bleeding everywhere. I deserve answers."
He said nothing while I applied more of the paste. Slowly, painfully, the wound began to knit together.
I helped him sit upright, his back against the tree. His breathing was still labored.
"Tell me what happened," I pressed. "Who attacked you?"
He winced, but his lips twitched into a weak smile. "You ask too many questions... just like your father."
I froze, my eyes widening in surprise. "What did you say?"
He groaned, struggling to get back on his feet. "Hey, you shouldn’t be moving yet!"
"I must," he groaned. "Your father... would be proud... of the woman you’ve become."
"What do you know about my father?" I demanded, grabbing his arm.
He steadied himself, looking at me with amber eyes. "I know two things. Your father is innocent. And 362B. Remember that code."
362B.
I frowned. "What does that mean? Tell me."
He grabbed my shoulders suddenly, his eyes darting around the forest frantically. "Don’t trust anyone in the packhouse. There’s a murderer inside those walls."
I gasped. "Is it the same person who killed River? Tell me!"
Before I could demand more, he shoved me hard. I stumbled back, hitting the ground. By the time I scrambled up, he was already disappearing into the trees.
How was he even able to move that fast? He had just been bleeding out half an hour ago.
"Wait!" I screamed. "Come back!"
I chased after him, thick branches whipping across my face as dead leaves crunched beneath my feet. But after some seconds, the trail simply ended. It was as though the forest had swallowed him whole.
He had vanished like smoke while I stood there, my chest heaving, replaying his words over and over.
Your father is innocent. 362B. There’s a murderer in the packhouse.
A sob caught in my throat but I shoved it down. I shifted back into wolf form and raced toward the packhouse,my paws digging into the earth.
As I ran, a memory surfaced in my mind. It was so clear, it hurt just remembering it.
Father lifted me onto his shoulders in the rose garden, laughing as Mother scolded him for getting dirt on my dress.
"My little princess will be strong and kind," he had said, kissing my forehead. "Just like her old man. You’ll protect this pack one day, Candy."
Nobody was like my father. He was the most gentle, loving, fair, and kindest man I had ever known. A man who had taken his own illegitimate brother in after Grandpa’s death and had given the pack his own life.
I had dreamed of being exactly like him when I had children of my own—if I ever had children of my own.
I reached the packhouse just before midnight. Guards patrolled the surroundings, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. I shifted back behind some bushes, pulled on the clothes I had hidden earlier, and slipped inside through a side entrance.
I had barely taken three steps down the corridor when I ran straight into a hard brick-like chest.
A low growl filled my ears and I would know that sound anywhere. The moment our eyes met, something inside my chest tightened. Ryker’s eyes were locked down on me, with dark circles under them. They were red-rimmed, like he hadn’t slept in days.
His dark hair looked damp, like he’d been running, his shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his jaw was shadowed with stubble.
Exhaustion clung to him yet none of that softened the hostility burning in his eyes.
For a split second, concern flickered in my chest. Was he having trouble sleeping? I parted my lips to ask when he cut me off.
He leaned in, nostrils flaring in anger. "Where the fuck have you been? And why do you smell like another man’s scent?"
My eyes widened slightly. The smell of that man must have rubbed off on me. Behind Ryker were a group of guards he must have been leading out of the packhouse.
"I went for a run because I couldn’t sleep," I muttered, but he bared his teeth in disgust.
"Liar," he spat, loud enough for the patrolling guards nearby to hear. "You’re a pathetic liar, just like your traitorous father. What, you’ve added being a slut to your list of crimes now? Liar, murderer, and now whore? Sneaking out at night to spread your legs for some fucking asshole—"
I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to. But fury shot through my veins at his careless words and before I could stop myself, my hand cracked hard across his face, shutting him off immediately.
The sound ripped through the hallway like thunder. Ryker’s head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek.
For a long second, no one moved. His body went completely rigid — every muscle locked, every breath held. When he finally turned his head back to face me, his heterochromic eyes had gone wide. Not with rage. With shock.
Ryker’s throat worked. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he visibly fought for control.
I stared at my own hand in shock, then back at him, my lips quivering. The guards behind straightened immediately, moving toward me to arrest me for striking an Alpha, but Ryker held up a hand, stopping them cold. His voice came out rougher than I had ever heard it.
"Stand down." He growled at them, his eyes never leaving my face. They fell back instantly.
I swung my eyes back to meet his furious gaze, my chest heaving with anger. Tears burned in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. He had called me a slut before the guards and then he had dared trample on my father’s name. That I wouldn’t allow.
"You know what? You can never be right to people who want you to be wrong," I said bitterly, my voice cracking.
I drew in a slow breath, my voice dropping low.
"I have spent three years trying to prove myself to you and your brothers. Fine, believe whatever you want. But you will respect me, Ryker Pendragon and you will not sully the image of the man who loved and treated you like his own son. That is not a request. Whatever else I am to you — you owe me that much."
I turned on my heel, storming toward my quarters. Behind me, I could hear Ryker’s harsh breathing, and I could feel his eyes drilling holes into my back.
But I didn’t look back, he could as well go to hell for all I cared. I had important things to do especially now that I knew there was a murderer walking these halls. The question now was — who was the murderer?
