Page 163 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

Then I hit a folder that didn’t fit.

It wasn’t pack finances. It wasn’t the blackmail ledger. It was a long chain of payments to private investigators and security firms that stretched back nineteen years. Attached to each payment were reports, all of them ending the same way: No trace. Dead end. Subject remains missing.

This wasn’t a short search. It was a sustained manhunt. Expensive. Methodical. And completely unsuccessful.

The front door clicked open. Jackson walked in carrying bags of takeout.

“Jackson, come look at this.”

He set the bags down and crossed the room, leaning over my shoulder. I scrolled slowly through the earliest records.

“Look at the dates,” I said.

He went very still. “That’s right after my uncle Christopher died. Right after Noah vanished.”

I didn’t say anything. I just opened the next report. Another dead end. Another city. Another firm. Nineteen years of the same result.

Jackson’s hand tightened on the back of my chair. “He’s been looking for him for nineteen years. If he’d killed Noah himself, he wouldn’t still be searching.”

“Unless Thomas enjoys wasting money, Noah is probably still alive,” I said carefully. “Well hidden. And as Christopher’s son, he would have a stronger claim to alpha than Thomas ever did. Thomas knows that. If he’s been hunting him this long, it’s because he still considers him a threat.”

The realization settled hard between us. Stacked on top of the folder with the children, it was too much to carry alone.

“We need real help,” I said. “For this. For the children.”

Jackson nodded once. I picked up my phone and dialed.

Brian answered on the second ring.

“I found things,” I said. “Things I can’t move from here. I need to come up this weekend.”

A pause.

Then Brian’s voice came through. “Bring Jackson.”

The following weekend, we drove out to Brian and Janet’s. Jackson held my hand between us the entire way, his thumb brushing over the mating bracelet again and again.

I watched the highway roll past and tried not to think too hard about what we were about to lay at their feet. The files. The children. Noah. All of it.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, the house looked the same as it always had. Safe in a way almost nothing else felt anymore.

Janet opened the door before we could knock. The moment she saw us her face lit up with pure, unguarded joy. She pulled me into a tight hug first, then turned to Jackson with open arms, surprising him into stillness for a second before he returned it.

“You’re mated,” she said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”

Brian stood in the doorway behind her, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always. He studied Jackson for a long moment, then gave a single nod.

“We’ll talk after dinner.”

The meal was simple and warm — roasted chicken, vegetables from the garden, fresh bread. Jackson stayed close, refilling my water, brushing his fingers along my back whenever he passed. Janet kept smiling at us like she couldn’t help it.

After dinner Brian led us into his office.

The moment the door closed, the temperature changed. I didn’t ease into it.

“Jackson knows everything.”

Brian’s gaze shifted to him.