Chapter 88
Chapter 88
I should have left the fucking office when I had the chance.
ས. 70%#
+5
Instead, I’m sitting on the floor, my back pressed against Liam’s desk, my heartbeat thudding against my ribs as if it’s trying to break free. The file is in my lap, its weight far heavier than paper and ink should ever be. My fingers twitch as I flip it
open.
The first page stares back at me. My name. My birthday. My blood status–Omega.
Basic shit.
I scan further, flipping through old reports and documents though I’m peeling back layers of my own existence. Foster records. Riverstone adoption papers. Thirteen years old, found near the pack borders, malnourished but unharmed. No immediate family traced.
Bullshit.
I keep reading. My fingers tighten around the pages, my breath coming quicker. The more I search, the more I realize what’s missing. My mother’s name is listed–Mary Lancaster. My father–Edward Lancaster. No known cause of death. Just… deceased. No details, no reports, no explanations.
I press my palm against my forehead, willing myself to stay calm. This was supposed to give me answers. Instead, it’s feeding me the same half–truths I’ve been living with for years.
This isn’t enough.
Liam has more. He has the damn flash drive. The one he dangled in front of me like a fucking bone. “You want the truth?” he’d said. “Give me the file, and I’ll give you the drive.”
Yeah. Right.
My eyes flick up to the desk. Maybe he left it. Maybe he didn’t trust himself to keep it with him.
It’s a long shot, but I’ve done dumber shit before.
I get on my knees, ignoring the way my pulse skitters, and pull open the top drawer. Nothing but pens and a half–empty bottle of whiskey. Next drawer–stacks of folders, invoices, memos.
My breath hitches when I spot the bottom drawer. Locked.
That’s it.
I grab the handles and yank, but it doesn’t budge. My fingers search the desk frantically, rifling through loose papers and files, knocking over a stapler and a goddamn coffee mug before–keys.
Tucked under a stack of notes.
I snatch them up, hands shaking, and jam one into the lock. It doesn’t fit. Neither does the second.
Come on. Come on.
The third clicks.
My entire body stills for half a second before I yank the drawer open. My breath catches.
There it is.
+5
12:42 Fri, 4 Apr
Chapter 88
The flash drive sits in the corner, small and unassuming, but I swear it might as well be glowing. I grab it, shove it into my pocket, and pull out my laptop, my fingers working on autopilot as I jam the drive into the port.
The screen lights up. A single folder appears.
1 click. My name is the first file. Taryn Sinclair’s Origin.
No. Not Sinclair. Not even Riverstone.
Shit, I’m not even who I thought I was.
“Taryn Lancaster.” I let the name roll off my tongue. That sounds so… fucking royal. Holy shit.
My stomach twists. My fingers hover over the trackpad as I double–click the file.
A document unfolds, line by line, word by word.
Taryn Lancaster.
Daughter of Edward Lancaster, deceased.
Former Imperial Beta of the Lycan Kingdom.
No way…
My breath stutters. I blink. Imperial Beta?
No. That… that can’t be right.
An Imperial Beta–No, THE Imperial Beta because there could only be one, wasn’t just some pack official. He was second only to the Alpha King. The King’s right–hand. Enoch’s father’s most trusted man.
And he… my father?
I clutch the laptop as though it might fucking disintegrate in my hands. The next words burn into my vision.
Only brother: Jesse Lancaster, deceased.
Mother: Mary Lancaster, deceased.
Cause of death: Imperial Pack Internal War.
A cold chill slithers down my spine.
I don’t breathe.
I don’t blink.
I just read.
Orchestrated by George Blackwell, second in line on the throne in the case of death of the first Alpha King, or no heirs.
The current Alpha King, Enoch’s uncle.
The same man Enoch killed when he got back.
The realization slams into me as a goddamn wrecking ball.
My family—my entire fucking bloodline–was wiped out in the same war that stole everything from Enoch. His uncle didn’t
12:42 Fri, 4 Apr M
Chapter 88
just take the throne. He took Enoch’s parents. He took my parents.
And I never knew.
A sharp knock echoes from outside.
“Security check,” a voice calls. “Anyone inside?”
My stomach lurches.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I slam the laptop shut and duck low, flattening myself against the side of the desk. The flashlight sweeps over the glass wall, casting a faint glow through the frosted surface. My pulse hammers as I hold my breath, waiting, praying they don’t see me.
The light pauses. A slow, heavy silence stretches out.
Then–click.
The door locks from the outside.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Fucking hell.
I’m locked in.
But none of that matters. Not yet. Not when the truth is still staring at me, burning itself into my brain.
I force myself to breathe, my hands curling into fists.
Enoch’s uncle killed my family. The war that tore his world apart? It was mine, too.
Fuck, this is all so overwhelming.
I glance back at the laptop when his steps began to retreat away from the office.
I can’t breathe.
The screen in front of me blurs, my eyes burning, but I can’t look away. Once again, my brother’s voice–Jesse’s echoes in my skull, scraping against the inside of my head like nails on glass.
“The Imperial Pack did this. They killed him. They killed Dad.”
The weight of those words crashes down on me, dragging me under. I clutch my mouth with both hands, trying to smother the scream clawing up my throat.
It was him. Brooke’s father. The Prince Royal. That bastard. That power–hungry, cowardly son of a bitch.
He wasn’t just responsible for my father’s death. He tried to kill Enoch, too. If he had succeeded, if Enoch had actually died
I gag. The thought alone is so violently repulsive that my body rejects it like poison.
But Enoch killed him. It’s over.
So why the hell does it still feel as if I’m drowning?
A choked sob wrenches out of me before I can stop it, and then another, and another, until I’m breaking. Crying like I’m bleeding from the inside out, my shoulders shaking so hard I can’t hold myself up anymore.
Chapter 88
I don’t know how long I stay like this–collapsed, hands tangled in my hair, face pressed against my knees as I sob a fucking child. It could be minutes. It could be hours.
All I know is that when the tears finally slow, I feel empty. Though something vital has been hollowed out of me.
My parents are dead.
My brother,, Jesse is dead.
And now I know why. This is what I came in the city for.
To know the truth.
They were loyal to the Imperial family. To the wrong fucking people. They fought, they died, and for what? For a bloodline that turned against itself? For a kingdom that let it happen?
I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat.
There’s nothing I can do. There’s no one left to punish. The bastard responsible is already dead, rotting in a ditch somewhere thanks to Enoch.
This is good. I should be relieved, although if I had clawed him in the face while he was still alive, I would have felt a little better.
But knowing how he died thanks to Brooke, his head hanged on the palace gates, I know I could never be as brutal as Enoch himself.
But I don’t feel relieved. I feel like I’m standing in the aftermath of a war I never even got to fight in.
And I lost everything.
My lungs are still shuddering when I force myself to move. My fingers, numb and clumsy, swipe at my laptop’s trackpad, pulling up the last folder I haven’t opened yet.
“Taryn Lancaster’s connection with the Alpha King.”
My breath catches.
I hesitate, fingers hovering over the file as though it might bite me.
Then, before I can overthink it, I click.
Goddess, I pray I didn’t.
The document opens, and my world tilts.
I stare.
Lines of text burn themselves into my vision, but I can’t process any of it. My brain is short–circuiting, my thoughts unraveling too fast–too fucking violently.
“Taryn Lancaster and Enoch Blackwell, the heir to the Imperial throne, have always been fond of each other. Their parents were best friends.’
More words. More bullshit about childhood ties and royal friendships and unbreakable bonds, but I can’t focus on any of it because suddenly-
Suddenly, I’m remembering.
12:42 Fri, 4 Apr M.
Chapter 88
Flashes of a boy.
Laughter in the well–groomed gardens.
A hand grabbing mine, pulling me away from trouble.
“I think you’re gonna be my mate!” A boy calls as he grips my small wrist. I’m small. I’m a kid. This is a memory. I smile back at the boy, “Me too. Your Highness!” I reply as 1 give him a toothy grin.
Forest green eyes. Bright. Wild. Looking at me like I mattered. As though I’m the only one that mattered.
I jerk away from the screen, gasping for breath though I’ve been underwater too long.
No. No, no, no.
This isn’t real. This isn’t possible.
I scramble for my phone with shaking hands, scrolling frantically in my gallery from a month ago until I find it–the picture
I took from Enoch’s archives when he found me rushing around his desk.
The girl Brooke said he loved and was looking for. The girl I’ve been jealous of for months.
The girl I thought I could never compare to.
Holy fucking shit, Taryn.
I click on the image, staring at her face.
Then I look back at the picture–my childhood picture in the file on the laptop.
My stomach drops.
It’s the same.
Same girl. Same face. Same me.
“Oh my God…” My hand clasps on my mouth, my heart drops to my stomach.
I was her.
I was the girl Enoch was searching for. The one he loved. The one he lost.
Everything around me tilts dangerously, my vision blackening at the edges.
I stumble to my feet, my mind spinning so violently I can’t think, can’t breathe.
I have to tell him. I have to tell Enoch. I’m the girl you were looking for. It’s me.
I take one step toward the door.
Then another.
And then-
My knees buckle.
The world blurs as dark spots cover my vision, everything darkens.
I hit the floor, my body folding in on itself, but I barely feel it.
FEL, 4 Apr
Chapter 88
Because the last thought in my head before everything goes black is-
I wonder what expression will he make if I tell him?
My Enoch… He was always looking for me.
And he never even knew.
