Naria's Wolves

Chapter Two-Episode Three

“Think about it,” he said, resting his chin on his palm. “If someone went snooping through my private folders, and my reaction was to basically erase their existence and ruin their life... what does that tell you?”

“That the secret was big,” Inara whispered.

“Exactly. Big enough to cause a lot of problems for a lot of powerful people.” Kade looked around the sun-drenched patio, his voice dropping. “If Celeste here went snooping through my personal things at home—”

“I’d rather burn my eyes out, thanks,” Celeste mused, though she was listening intently. Kade shot her a 'shut up' look; he was in full teacher mode now.

“Point being,” Kade continued, “if she found something, and I destroyed her entire reputation to keep her quiet, it means the truth was worth more than a human life. You think Ryker just stumbled onto a filing error? No. He found something in that Tower that no one is supposed to know. Something that makes the Silvermists—and by extension, the Greys—very, very nervous.”

“Oh, good heavens,” Inara breathed. She wished she had something stronger than water to wash down the sudden lump in her throat. “That’s a whole new level of f****d up.” She looked at Kade, truly impressed. “How do you even know all that?”

“Well, for one, I make it my business to stay in the loop,” he laughed, the tension breaking slightly. “The rest is just pure, delicious speculation. I really thought you’d known already.”

“If there really is a giant secret hidden in the Science Tower, I want to know what it is,” Celeste commented, finally giving up on the sweets.

Inara nodded in agreement. Everything was starting to click—Silas’s bristling fury, Ryker’s resentment, and her mother’s sudden decision to put Inara in charge of the whole machine. Was she being handed a crown, or was she being positioned to cover up a leak?

“I need to find out when his 'incident' happened,” Inara mused. “If I can find the date, I can find out what was happening in Naria at the time.”

“Look into about two years ago,” Kade supplied, leaning back in his lounge chair. “That’s about when it happened.”

“Two years ago? I was still in high school,” Inara mused. She looked out at the pool, the water perfectly blue and undisturbed in the windless air. “Maybe that’s why I didn't know. I wasn’t exactly involved with my family's anything then. I was just trying to get through classes.”

“That makes sense,” Celeste said, shifting her weight. “s**t, I didn’t care about nothing but boys and clothes in my school days.”

“So, not much has changed,” Kade laughed.

Celeste shot him a playful, narrowed glare. “I suppose not,” she sighed, lounging back and stretching her arms above her. “I’m tired of being told what to do,” she pouted, her rounded leopard ears flicking. “Though, my problems seem pretty small now compared to you.” She gestured to Inara with a sympathetic look.

Inara offered a small, tired shrug. In the still silence of the patio, the weight of the "Grey" legacy felt like it was sitting right there on the table next to the treat boxes.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Kade mused, slipping a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and sliding them on. The movement was fluid, his olive skin catching the light of the artificial sun. “Having my mother shove women in my face all the time seems like a small thing now. We have bigger fish to fry.”

~*~

A few days had passed, and Inara was no closer to any real answers. Ryker Hale had stayed blissfully absent, Silas had offered a rare, gruff apology, and Scarlett had kept her company in the evenings when she wasn’t buried in fashion board meetings.

“Have you decided what you’re going to wear?” Scarlett asked. They were both curled up in oversized chairs on Inara’s balcony, sipping hot tea from ceramic cups. It was well into the night, and neither of them could sleep. Inara least of all.

She’d spent the last forty-eight hours trying to corner her mother, but she was always met with the same polished, vague deflections. Her father was worse—he’d taken to ignoring her existence entirely, his cold silence acting as a physical barrier.

“I don’t know what I should wear,” Inara admitted with a heavy sigh. “Do I go for extravagant? Or keep it simple and elegant?” Her shoulders drooped. “It doesn’t matter anyway. All the board is going to see is a child standing up there,” she whispered.

Scarlett let out a small, pained whine in her throat; she hated seeing her sister’s spirit so dampened. “They’re not going to see a child,” she tried to soothe, but even her voice lacked its usual conviction.

They had one week left. One week before Inara was paraded around as the new face of the Grey collective.

“Father won’t even acknowledge me,” Inara growled. She pulled her mink blanket higher over her chest, her fluffy tail curled protectively over her ankles. Below, the city twinkled like a glittering blanket of neon and glass, and the fan on the balcony rail hummed a low, steady rhythm. Inara hated when it was too quiet; the stillness of Naria made her skin crawl.

For once, Scarlett seemed to run out of words. They sat in a heavy, comfortable silence until the walls of the balcony felt like they were closing in.

“I think I need to go for a walk,” Inara said, standing abruptly and draping her blanket over the back of the chair. She was itching to move—the adrenaline of the unknown was making her limbs feel twitchy.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Scarlett jumped up, her steel-colored eyes alert. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be fine,” Inara laughed half-heartedly. “I’m just walking to campus and back. It’s not far.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay away from Ryker if he’s out prowling again?” Scarlett asked, spitting the name like it was poison.

“What on earth did he do to earn this much disdain?” Inara demanded, crossing her arms. She was tired of the subject being avoided.

“Ryker Hale went digging through information he wasn’t supposed to see,” Scarlett said, her tone flat and matter-of-fact.

“So? It’s like stumbling on someone’s diary and getting curious. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“It’s bad if that diary holds massive amounts of private data.” Scarlett raked a hand through her loose silver hair. “It’s like snooping through medical files, Inara. That kind of information is sensitive.”

“So sensitive he was stripped of his life’s work and turned into a ghost?” Inara snorted. “Seems a little extreme. If I didn't know any better, I’d say the Silvermists are hiding something.”

“That’s enough, Inara,” Scarlett growled.

Inara flinched, her golden eyes widening. She’d rarely heard that tone from her sister.

“You don’t know what happened,” Scarlett continued, her voice sharp. “You weren't there. I wasn't there. No one is keeping secrets; they’re protecting a database that shouldn't be tampered with. It’s standard procedure—something you’re going to have to understand once you’re managing these companies.”

“I didn’t ask for that, either!” Inara hissed. She shoved her feet into a pair of hard-soled house shoes, her heart racing. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

It didn't take Inara long to reach campus. The quiet, bone-white forest was becoming more of a safe haven these days than the gilded halls of her own home. She didn't want to hide in the hollowed trunk tonight; she just needed to move. Her mind was sluggish with exhaustion, yet every time she tried to process the bizarre direction her life was taking, her body felt wound tight, like a spring ready to snap.

The dark stone pathway snaked through the forest like a frozen, broken river. Inara found herself wondering who had designed it—who had decided on this specific layout, these jagged trees, this ethereal, haunting lighting. It was beautiful in a way that hurt, and she was drawn to its cold perfection time and time again.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” a rough voice growled from the shadows behind her.

Inara whipped around, her ears pinning back instinctively. When she saw the figure emerging from the gloom, she let out a sharp, unenthusiastic huff.

“Oh. It’s just you,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning back to the path.

“It is just me,” Ryker said, a trace of a smile dancing in his voice. “But it’s also just you out here again, isn’t it?”

“What do you want, Ryker?” Inara asked, her annoyance echoing off the granite trunks. “Come to be annoying?”

“Hm. Maybe,” he mused, easily matching her stride. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Is it working?”

“A little,” she admitted, narrowing her golden eyes. She worked hard to ignore the smoky hue of his green eyes; she begrudgingly had to acknowledge that Ryker was a handsome man, even if his personality was like sandpaper.

“So why are you out here? Palace not good enough tonight?” Ryker teased.

“Do you ever just... stop talking? Or are you so egotistical that you just like the sound of your own voice?” Inara hissed, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“I’m genuinely curious,” he responded. He tucked his hands behind his back, looking for all the world like he was taking a casual Sunday stroll. When she didn't answer, she glanced over to find him staring at her intently, his expression unreadable but expectant.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air,” she sighed, the fight momentarily leaving her. “Is that so bad?”

“There’s no fresh air down here, Princess,” he reminded her, his voice flat.

Inara let out a low growl. “You should know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t,” he shrugged, his tail twitching once. “I will never understand the minds of the elite.”

“What the hell do you want?” Inara rounded on him, halting their walk in the middle of the dark stone path. “I’m sure you have somewhere better to be than here pestering me.”

“I want to know what’s so bad in your perfect little life that you’ve spent more time in this stone graveyard than with your own family,” he mused. His green eyes searched hers, probing for the secret she was carrying.

“Are you spying on me now?” she asked, incredulous. “That’s messed up, even for someone with your reputation.”

“Like I said... I’m curious,” he responded. His voice dropped an octave, and he took a slow, deliberate step toward her, invading her personal space.

“Looks like you’re out of luck, then,” she snapped. She turned her back on him and began walking away, her house shoes clicking sharply against the stone as she tried to put distance between herself and the man who knew too much.

“I ran out of luck years ago,” Ryker called out with a sharp, dry huff.