Page 23
My breath catches when I see it’s a birth certificate and something else. I reach for it, but he holds it just out of my grasp. “Her name isn’t Brielle. I went to her storage locker containing her grandmother’s things and found this, so now I am trying to find her real ID.”
“What are you talking about?” I snap at him. His expression is a mix of triumph and apprehension. There’s a smug satisfaction in the way he holds the paper, shaking it slightly in my face as if he’s unearthing a truth he believes will support his actions.
“She looks pretty damn alive to me!” Damian growls, and I snatch the papers from his hands and am horrified to find the second paper is a death certificate. I look at Damian, who is glaring at me.
“Still believe she isn’t hiding something? I found the death certificate in her grandmother’s things.”
I try to think of a reason why she would lie to me, but nothing comes to mind except her ex-mate, who she is so terrified of. “She’s been using a dead girl’s birth certificate? Why would she lie about that? And if she isn’t Brielle, who the heck is she?” I mumble.
“Exactly! We can’t trust her,” Damian argues, his eyes narrowing with conviction. “What else has she hidden? What else do we not know? You can’t deny the evidence of her being deceptive when you’re holding it!”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. I’ve spent more time with Bree than anyone other than Max; I know she must have her reasons, and I refuse to believe she has malicious intentions wholeheartedly. “I know her, Damian. You have to understand—”
“No, don’t give me that. You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment! What if she’s playing you? What if this is all a trap? The kingdom’s safety is at stake here.”
“You think I don’t care about that? I’m trying to understand because this level of deceit doesn’t match the woman I’ve come to know. I won’t throw her to the wolves based on just this; she must have a reason!”
“Based on this, Soren, you have no damn clue who this woman is!” he snarls.
He’s right, but I refuse to believe our relationship is a total lie.
Damian shakes his head, exasperated. “What happens if she does turn out to be a threat? You’ll be the one responsible for putting us all in danger.”
“So your suspicions give you permission to go through her things?”
“I’m just doing my job,” he replies, his tone cooling. He snatches the paperwork from me. “I’m going to run this via the council and see what comes up using the death certificate. On the plus side, we know she came from a pack because the Blackwood pack is listed on the death certificate, which is the only way she could have this.”
“Blackwood Pack? Is the father’s name listed?”
“No, the birth certificate isn’t formal; it’s the one the hospital gives for identification, only the mother is listed. The death certificate I can’t make the name since something is spilled on it. But I can get the registry to run the numbers, these don’t match the ones I’ve been looking up.”
“And you know those numbers?” I scoff.
“Yes, I do because I’ve done nothing but try to figure out who this woman is!”
He turns away and leaves the room, I can’t shake the unease settling in my chest. Standing there momentarily, feeling lost and confused, I take a deep breath and force myself to confront the truth. She lied to me, but my main question is, why?
Chapter 11
• King Soren •
The next day
I’m standing beside Damian, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The council’s summons felt urgent as Maverick called us to the beaches by the docks, and now I can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong. Pulling up in the parking lot, the entire street is lined with onlookers. Police are everywhere trying to get rid of people when I realize it’s not just supernatural officials but human officials.
“What the heck is going on?” Damian murmurs as we climb out of the car. The two of us approach the beach, where officials are gathered near the water’s edge. The salty air fills my lungs, but it does nothing to quell the unease creeping into my chest.
“There’s been a shipping container that washed ashore,” the council member explains, his face pale. “We need you to take a look.”
I glance at Damian confused, wondering why we would be called to check out a container.
“Washed up last night?” Damian asks, trying to gauge what is going on.
“Yeah, after a storm hit. Some humans broke into it,” Maverick tells me, coming over to us.
“I don’t understand,” I admit. What’s all this fuss over a shipping container? Maverick waves for us to follow, and we step under the police tape that is held with flag poles. I follow him and Damian down the sandy path, the crashing waves grow louder as we approach the container, and I can hear the murmurs and gasps from the people gathered around. The sound of feet shuffling through the sand and the occasional splash of water.
Upon reaching the scene, a sense of dread clutches my heart as my gaze is met with a sight more terrifying than I could have anticipated. The large metal container is partially submerged, water lapping around its rusted edges. There’s a crowd of people standing back, whispering among themselves, and tension is thick in the air.
