The world had been reduced to two sounds: the frantic thud of my own heart, and the distant, ever-present wail of sirens.
They were the city's nervous system, and tonight, every pulse was searching for me.
My sanctuary was a 5x5 concrete cube.
A storage unit, paid for in cash under a dead girl's name.
The air was thick with the smell of dust and despair.
A single, bare bulb swung from a frayed cord, throwing frantic shadows that danced like specters.
I had nothing.
Just the cold weight of the gun in my lap and the sharper, deadlier weight of the flash drive in my pocket. My entire existence had been distilled into these two instruments of survival.
My phone was a brick of cheap plastic in my trembling hand.
I dialed. One ring.
"Riley?" Danny's voice was sleep-rough and instantly, profoundly alert.
The words came out as a choked exhale. "They have Billy."
A beat of stunned silence. "Who? Where are you? Are you safe?"
"The unit off 5th. Marcus Volkan. He took him. For leverage."
"Okay. Breathe. We'll find him. I'll call in every—"
"He's dead, Danny."
The line went so quiet I could hear the hum of the void between us.
"What did you say?"
"Marcus. He's dead." My voice was a flat, toneless recording. "I killed him. He had Billy. He admitted it. He came at me with a letter opener. I had the gun. I pulled the trigger."
"Jesus Christ, Riley." I heard the rustle of sheets, the soft thud of his feet hitting the floor. The world tilting. "Are you hit? Are you clean?"
"I'm not hurt. There was… a lot of blood. His. I got out." I squeezed my eyes shut, but all I saw was the stark, bloody truth. "There's more."
"More? Riley, what in the name of the moon could be more than this?"
So I told him. I told him about the diner, the kind, sick old man. About the wallet, the hotel, the open door to Room 721.
I painted the scene in the ugliest colors I possessed—the man on his knees, the Alpha's hands braced on the dresser— every single thing i saw that day.
"The Gray crest, Danny. It was Falon. It was the Alpha."
This silence was different. It wasn't shock. It was the deep, terrifying silence of a chess master seeing a checkmate materialize from the chaos.
"Falon Gray…" he finally breathed. "Do you have any idea what you're holding?"
"A death sentence."
"No," he said, and his voice had changed, hardened in the forge of this new reality. "You're holding the only thing that can save Billy's life. And yours."
"What are you talking about? Falon has my son."
"The flash drive. You have it?"
"It's in my pocket."
"Listen to yourself, Riley, why would falon kidnap your son, knowing fully well you know his secret, He can't be the one. But that could be your levrage. What you have can change your life forever." He was thinking aloud, the strategist emerging fully formed.
"You can't run. The police will bag you for Marcus. The Volkan family will skin you for revenge. You'll be dead in a ditch in a week, and Billy… Billy will be gone forever."
The cold, brutal logic of it seeped into my bones, freezing the panic into a core of solid ice.
He was right. There were no good options. Only a spectrum of terrible ends.
"So what do I do?" The plea of a lost child. "I just want my son. I don't care about the rest."
"You have to care!" The force in his voice was a slap.
"Caring about the rest is the only way you get him back! There is one person in this city with the power to build a fortress around you. One person whose need to bury his secret is greater than the Volkan family's need for vengeance."
Falon Gray. The name was a stone in my gut.
"You want me to blackmail the Alpha?, my son is missing and you're telling me to get married."
"I want you to walk in there and propose a pact," Danny said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You become his most closely guarded secret. He becomes the fortress that keeps you and Billy safe. It's the only cage that might just have a door you can one day walk out of."
A pact. A cage of my own choosing. The irony was so sharp it drew blood.
"How?" I breathed. "I can't just knock on his front door."
"No. You can't." He fell silent for a moment. "You need a patron. A wolf to vouch for you as you walk into the den."
As if summoned by the thought, my phone buzzed. An unknown number. My heart hammered against my ribs. "Danny, hold on." I switched lines. "Hello?"
"Riley? It's Darel." His voice was a warm blanket in my frozen world. "I've been trying your phone. After last night… I was worried."
Last night. The gala. A performance from a woman who no longer existed.
"Darel," I said, injecting a tremor, letting the raw edge of panic bleed through. "No. I'm not… I'm not okay. I need… I need your help."
"Tell me where you are. I'm coming right now."
I gave him a cross-street two blocks away. I switched back to Danny. "It's Darel. He's on his way."
"Darel Gray?" I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.
"That's your ticket. Use him. Get him to take you to Falon. But Riley… listen to me. He is not your friend. He is a tool. You are playing the deadliest game of your life now. So play it."
The line went dead. I was alone with the sirens.
Twenty minutes later, his sleek car purred to the curb.
I slid into the passenger seat, the plush leather a stark contrast to the concrete I'd been hugging.
He took one look at me—the pallor of my skin, the wild, trapped-animal look in my eyes—and his face softened with a pity that was both a balm and an insult.
"Riley," he said, his voice gentle. "Talk to me. What's happened?"
I turned to him, letting the mask of the terrified mother slip fully into place. "They took my son, Darel."
He flinched back, stunned. "You… you have a son?"
"His name is Billy." I reached out, my fingers cold as I clutched his forearm.
"The people who think they own me… they took him. I need to see Falon. I need to meet with him."
Darel stared, his mind struggling to reconcile the poised dancer from the gala with this shattered, desperate woman.
He saw the truth I was showing him. The truth of a mother's terror. He didn't see the killer. He saw the victim.
"Okay," he said, his voice firm with resolve. He covered my hand with his, his skin warm.
"Okay. There's a masquerade at the Grand Hall tonight. Falon will be there. It's the most secure way to get you an audience." He put the car in drive. "But you can't go like this."
He drove us to a discreet atelier.
A woman with a severe bun and a tape measure took my dimensions with a silent, clinical efficiency.
Darel spoke to her in low, confident tones. An hour later, a black garment bag was handed over.
"A mask and a dress," Darel said. "I'll collect you at nine. Where should I pick you up?"
I gave him the name of a cheap motel, another lie to stack upon the growing wall between us.
He dropped me off a block away. The moment his taillights vanished, I was running.
I found a payphone outside a shuttered laundromat, the receiver sticky with the residue of other people's lost hopes, my phone was dead.
I fed it coins and dialed, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs.
It rang. And rang. Just as I was about to give up, a voice answered, so thin and broken it was barely recognizable.
"Pronto?"
"Nonna. It's me. Riley."
A raw, guttural sound tore through the line, the sound of a soul being shredded.
"Mia bambina… He is gone. My boy is gone." Her words dissolved into heaving sobs. "
The house… it is so quiet. I keep turning, thinking I will see him. I made his breakfast and he was not there…"
"Nonna, listen to me," I said, my voice straining to project a calm I did not feel.
"The man who took him. What did he look like? Can you remember anything? Anything at all."
Her weeping intensified, a wave of pure anguish.
"I don't know… it was so fast. He called his name… Billy, he looked up, he smiled… and then he was just… gone. Mi dispiace, mi dispiace tanto… I failed him. I was right there and I failed him."
The last thread of hope I'd been clinging to snapped.
There was no clue here. Only pain. I had brought this pain into her life. The weight of it crushed the air from my lungs.
"You didn't fail him," I whispered.
"You loved him. That's all that matters now. Just… just keep his faith for him. Keep it warm. I'm coming for him."
I hung up, the echo of her world collapsing now a permanent part of my own.
I stood there, braced against the phone booth, the receiver dangling.
There were no more tears left in me. They had been burned away, leaving only a hard, crystalline resolve.
Danny was right. There was only one path left. And it led straight through the heart of the beast.
Later, I stood at the corner as promised.
Darel's car appeared. He emerged, handsome and troubled in his tuxedo, and handed me the garment bag.
"You can change in the car," he said, his kindness a weapon I was learning to wield.
We drove in a heavy silence.
Then, he spoke. "Riley… about the gala. I didn't know. I would never have—"
I placed a hand on his arm, a calculated gesture of fragile connection.
"I know," I said, cutting him off, my voice soft. "You're the only good thing in all of this. Please… just get me to him. You're my only hope."
The words hung in the air, a perfectly crafted hook. He nodded, his jaw tight with resolve.
As we neared the Grand Hall, the traffic congealed.
A police cruiser was idled on the shoulder, its dark windows like blind eyes.
My blood ran cold. I slid down in the leather seat, turning my face to the window.
Darel glanced over. "Everything alright?"
He hadn't noticed. The cruiser remained a dormant threat as we slid past.
I didn't answer. I just watched it recede in the side mirror, a reminder that the abyss was always there, waiting.
The Grand Hall rose before us, a monstrous jewel box of light and sound. Masks and silks swirled at the entrance, a beautiful lie.
Darel pulled up to the valet. He turned to me, his expression grim. "Ready?"
I looked past him, at the glittering mouth of the beast.
I caught my reflection in the window—a pale, determined face, storm-gray eyes that had seen too much to ever be soft again.
The Jewel was dead. Long live the hunter.
I reached for the door handle, my fingers closing not around an escape, but a weapon.
"Ready."