Naria's Wolves

Chapter Three-Episode Seven

Ryker let out a long, ragged breath. “The database where those files are stored has likely been moved or slapped under tighter security,” he began, his voice dropping an octave. “But what I managed to read suggests that the disaster that struck our old home on the surface... it was manufactured.”

He looked genuinely shaken, and Inara’s heart skipped a beat.

“And by creating a catastrophic event of that scale,” he continued, the weight of the words hanging heavy between them, “it allowed people like Lucien to perform the experiments needed to create what we are.”

Inara sat frozen, desperately trying to grasp the sheer scope of what he was implying. In all her life, through every history lesson she had ever been given, she would have never dreamed of such a horrific accusation.

“So,” she started, her voice dangerously steady. “You’re trying to tell me that the disaster that drove humanity underground was manmade?”

At first, a nervous laugh bubbled in her throat because the sheer absurdity of it was laughable. But as the silence stretched between them and Ryker didn't blink, a hot spark of irritation flared. Before she could control her instincts, her ears pinned flat against her head in deep annoyance.

“You know,” she snapped, her golden eyes flashing with sudden heat, “if you were going to string me along with some bullshit storyline, you could have at least made it something believable.”

Ryker growled, a low, guttural vibration that made the fur along his spine stand on edge. “I told you. I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I told you that you weren’t ready for the truth.”

“It’s not the truth!” Inara threw back, abruptly standing up as the small dorm room suddenly felt entirely too small. She felt a burning wave of humiliation wash over her. “It’s a boldfaced lie. You can't just engineer an absolute Ice Age, Ryker. It’s physically impossible. I should have known better than to come here.”

“I don’t lie,” Ryker snarled.

At the threat in his tone, Fiona’s head snapped up. The canine bared her teeth in a silent, lethal warning, a throaty growl rippling through her chest.

Ryker glared at them both, his eyes wild. “Why the hell would I risk telling you—of all people—a fabricated story?”

“To get back at my brothers! To play some twisted, psychological revenge game! I don't know, Ryker, I don’t know how your mind works!” Inara yelled, her own fur bristling as she flung her arms out to emphasize her fury.

Ryker stood up slowly. The casual posture from before vanished entirely, replaced by a dangerous, towering presence locked entirely onto her. Fiona rose instantly from her spot on the cushions, her coat fully on end, growling a fierce warning for him to watch his next step.

Ignoring the companion, Ryker stepped forward until he was directly in front of Inara, casting a heavy shadow over her, a dark growl rattling in his throat.

“Despite what your family has done to me, despite the literal threats I get from Silas, this is not a game,” he snarled, his words deliberate and sharp. “Something you should learn about me, Princess,” he spat the nickname like an insult, “is that I don’t play games. I don’t waste my time. And playing a game with you and your brothers would be a colossal waste of my energy.”

Inara stared up at him, teetering precariously on the razor-thin edge between fear and blinding anger.

“Then I won’t waste any more of it,” she whispered, her fists balled so tightly at her sides that her knuckles ached.

She spun on her heel, tearing the dorm door open before he could utter another syllable. She made sure Fiona cleared the threshold ahead of her before slamming the heavy wood shut with a force that rattled the frame. She didn't dare give him the satisfaction of a final word.

Fiona remained entirely silent as they marched back across the campus grounds. Inara was utterly trapped in a swirling, raging storm of her own thoughts.

How dare he speak to her like that? How dare he drag her along, make her feel completely foolish, and try to pin a catastrophic, historical atrocity on her family? Lucien was capable of cold, ruthless business tactics, sure—but keeping a world-ending secret like that? It was entirely out of the question.

Blinded by her own inner turmoil, Inara didn't even bother to watch where her feet were taking her. It wasn't until the pristine walkways faded into cracked pavement that she realized they had wandered straight onto the northern edge of Naria's southern side.

The heavy, metallic scent of the upper levels was suddenly replaced by something warm, rich, and deeply laced with spice. Inara blinked, realizing she was standing directly outside what appeared to be a small ramen shop. A crude, hand-painted depiction of a steaming noodle bowl hung crookedly above a worn-out wooden door, the paint chipping away in large flakes around the brass handle.

“It smells delicious,” Fiona commented softly, breaking her long silence.

They stood together on the bustling walkway. Around them, the local citizens either ignored Inara entirely or offered passing glances simply because she was blocking the flow of traffic. Only a handful of people seemed to recognize her face from the recent tabloids, but the moment they saw the massive, protective companion at her side and the look of sheer despair and frustration painted across her features, they kept a respectful distance. Whether they were avoiding Fiona or the explosive aura radiating off Inara, she honestly didn't care.

“I could go for a bite,” Inara murmured, a profound numbness settling over her after the explosive encounter with Ryker.

Deciding she’d rather eat alone to untangle the chaotic knot of her thoughts, she pushed through the door, deliberately ignoring the curious stares following her inside.

The man behind the counter didn’t seem to care about the sudden intrusion of high society. He exuded an instantly warm, welcoming presence—after all, money was money, no matter which side of Naria it came from. He looked to be a hybrid crossed with a panda, a vibrant red bandana contrasting sharply against his thick black hair. His comfortable, rounded belly suggested he was exceptionally well-fed on his own cooking.

“What’ll it be, love?” he asked. His voice carried a rich, heavy accent Inara had never heard in the upper tiers of the city.

“The best bowl you have,” she said, her tone a little hollow.

“Can do,” he chuffed happily. He reached under the counter and held out a pair of slender wooden utensils. “Can you eat with these?”

Inara stared at them, shifting on her feet. Were basic utensils so scarce on the South Side that they had to resort to using wooden sticks? “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “We don’t really use those where I’m from.”

The man burst into a hearty, booming laugh, reading her bewildered expression like an open book.

“These are chopsticks, sweetheart, but I can fetch you a fork,” he chuckled, turning back to his steaming cauldrons. “You don’t get out much on this side of town, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Inara admitted sheepishly, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “Though I suppose I should. More often.”

“It would certainly help, being 'The Queen’s People' an’ all,” he said, casting a knowing twinkle in his eye over his shoulder.

Inara opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it, completely at a loss for words.

“Don’t worry,” the chef chuckled, effortlessly scooping a colorful array of ingredients into a wide ceramic bowl of broth and noodles. He worked with a swift, mesmerizing diligence. Inara didn’t even realize he was finished until he was sliding the meal across the counter. “I won’t treat you any different in here.”

He handed her the warm bowl, a napkin tucked neatly beneath it, with a fork and spoon resting inside the steaming noodles and fresh vegetables.

“Thank you,” she whispered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her stoic mask.

Inara carried her meal to a cozy, dimly lit corner booth. Fiona slipped effortlessly under the small table, curling up comfortably at her feet.

Inara dug into the steaming broth. The rich, savory flavors burst across her tongue, and she instantly deemed this unassuming little shop a new favorite. Yet, despite the incredible food, she found it impossible to fully enjoy it. Her mind was entirely hijacked by Ryker's words.

“Do you think it’s true?” Inara asked Fiona quietly.

Beneath the table, Fiona twitched her ears back, swiveling them upward to listen. “I can tell you that he believed it,” the canine answered in a hushed, careful voice. “But I cannot tell you whether it is fact or fiction.”

“It’s just not possible,” Inara muttered, aggressively stabbing a helpless vegetable with her fork. “There is no way to fabricate an environmental disaster of that scale.”

Fiona remained silent, offering no further argument. There were simply no words for a concept so devastating.

Suddenly, the interface on Inara’s wrist unit began to ping with a flurry of incoming notifications. She glanced down to see a cascade of frantic messages from Celeste, Kade, and Scarlett, all demanding to know where she was and if she was safe. A wave of guilt hit her; she hadn't realized she’d spent nearly the entire day gone, essentially ghosting everyone who mattered to her.

“I guess we better get back,” she sighed, looking down at her empty bowl. Time had completely slipped away from her in the warmth of the shop.

“You can just leave the bowl right there on the table, love,” the panda-hybrid called out from behind the counter, offering a warm wave.

Inara thanked him once more and stepped out of the cozy refuge back into the cool air of the South Side. She quickly shot a text to her sister to let her know she was completely safe and had just lost track of time. But for the real breakdown, she needed Celeste.

Reaching up, she activated a sleek, custom-molded earpiece that nested perfectly within the contours of her wolf ear.

“Girl!” Celeste’s voice exploded through the comms, making Inara wince and flatten her ear slightly against the volume. “What happened to you? You’ve been vanished for an entire day!”

“I have a lot to tell you,” Inara sighed, weaving her way through the thinning afternoon crowds while Fiona took the lead, guiding them smoothly through the streets. “Can you meet me?”

“Where at, darling?” Kade’s smooth voice cut into the channel from the background.

Inara couldn't help but smile. She should have known the two of them would be attached at the hip, looking for her together.

“Somewhere without prying eyes and sharp ears,” Inara said, her voice betraying just how utterly exhausted she was.

“I’ve got just the place,” Kade answered, the unmistakable smirk evident in his tone. “I’m sending the coordinates to your unit now. See you soon.”