The Rise of the Wolf

Chapter 6

Beatrice

The first thing I noticed as I stepped onto the construction site was the scent of pine, raw wood, and freshly poured concrete. It blended with the crisp mountain air, grounding me. This project—this vision—was finally taking shape.

The main building stood proud against the backdrop of towering peaks, its timber frame and massive glass panels perfectly aligned with the landscape. The spa’s infinity pool, still under construction, jutted toward the valley like an offering to the horizon. It was beautiful. More than I had expected at this stage.

I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. Progress.

But then—

“Mrs. Sanders, such a pleasure to have you here. I must say, it’s rare to find someone with your level of expertise overseeing projects like these.”

A voice, smooth yet edged with something practiced, pulled me from my thoughts. I turned, finding myself face-to-face with a man I didn’t recognize. He was in his mid-forties, clean-cut, dressed in a crisp button-down that looked out of place among the dust and concrete.

He extended a hand. I took it, professional but cool.

“Peter Brooks,” he continued with a confident smile. “Executive manager with Stoney Falls Construction. I’ve been overseeing operations on-site.”

I returned his firm grip with a polite nod. “Ah. Good to finally meet the person behind the progress.”

His smile was polished—too polished. Something about him felt... off. Not in an obvious way—just enough to stir a quiet instinct to tread carefully. There was a stiffness to him, a precision that felt controlled rather than natural.

My gaze flicked past him to the construction team. They worked efficiently, each movement precise. Some were young, others older, but all lean, strong, coordinated. They carried themselves differently from most labor crews I had encountered—too fluid, too in sync.

Yet, something even more curious caught my attention. None of them met Peter’s eyes.

Not once.

No casual nods, no respectful glances. Just a deliberate avoidance, like he was a presence they’d rather not acknowledge. There was no usual construction-site banter, no easy camaraderie. Instead, an awareness, a silent energy running beneath the surface. The workers acknowledged Peter’s presence, but it was stiff, almost reluctant.

Interesting.

Peter, either unaware or unbothered, continued.

“As you can see, the team has maintained excellent progress. We’re ahead of schedule on the primary structures, with the main building fully framed, electrical and plumbing installed, and insulation nearly complete. The spa area is on track, and the exterior finishing should be completed within the next month. We’ve prioritized consistency in execution to maintain the integrity of the original design.”

I nodded as I glanced toward the main building, its large windows reflecting the shifting sky. “It’s impressive. I expected good work, but this is beyond expectations.”

Peter’s smile held a note of satisfaction, but I caught the way his fingers twitched slightly before he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt. A calculated move. Control.

“That’s what we aim for. Stoney Falls only assigns its best crews to high-profile projects, and this is no exception. Every worker here is hand-picked—not just for experience but for efficiency and precision. You won’t find a more skilled team.”

Hand-picked. The word lingered in my mind.

I took another moment to observe the workers. Their movements were seamless, each task flowing into the next. There was something unspoken between them, a connection deeper than just experience. It was… instinctual. Too natural. Like a unit that had trained together for years.

Peter gestured toward the team, and his tone became almost performative. “And of course, I couldn’t do this without my trusted site coordinator.”

He turned and called out, “Brett! Come meet Mrs. Sanders.”

A figure emerged from the workers. Late fifties, maybe early sixties, with a weathered face, tanned skin, and sharp eyes that held warmth beneath their keen observation.

“Brett Lawson,” Peter continued, forcing a broad, easygoing tone. “The backbone of our team here. No one knows this site better.”

Brett stepped forward, wiping his hands on his jeans before offering one. His handshake was strong, reassuring.

Peter patted his shoulder in what seemed to be a practiced display of camaraderie. “Couldn’t ask for a better man to keep things running smoothly.”

Brett didn’t react much to the gesture. If anything, his nod was slightly delayed. But when he turned to me, his smile was real. “Mrs. Sanders, good to finally meet you.”

I smiled back, sensing something genuine in him that had been missing with Peter. “Likewise. And please, call me Beatrice.”

Peter’s smile remained firm, but I noticed a flicker of something in his eyes before he cleared his throat. Frustration? It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure Brett would be happy to show you around. If you need anything, Mrs. Sanders, just let me know.”

I nodded politely. “I’ll be in touch.”

Peter lingered just a second longer, as if expecting something more. When it didn’t come, he inclined his head and strode off toward the temporary site office.

The moment he was gone, the tension in the air lightened.

A quiet chuckle drew my attention.

“Man’s got a way of turning the air sour, don’t he?”

I glanced at Brett, who watched Peter’s retreating figure with mild amusement.

I let out a small laugh. “I was just thinking the same.”

Brett grinned, but there was something familiar in his eyes—like the way an uncle might look at a niece he was proud of but hadn’t seen in too long. Protective, but not intrusive.

“Well, boss,” he said, gesturing toward the site, “care for a proper tour? I figure you’d rather see the work up close than hear a bunch of reports.”

I nodded, pleased. “Lead the way.”

As we walked, I noticed a shift. Now that Peter was gone, the workers seemed to breathe again. The stiffness faded. They chattered easily, like any normal construction crew.

Brett introduced me to various members of the team. I noted how they all seemed fit, almost unnaturally so, and there was that same odd energy between them. Respectful, disciplined—but something else lingered beneath the surface.

When Brett introduced the two young women packing up what seemed to be the remains of lunch, I immediately noticed the younger one. Her smile was tight, her eyes shadowed with something she tried to hide. Fear? I made a mental note of it.

Brett continued, “This here is Daniel. He’s the most talented when it comes to interior finishing. If there’s fine detail work to be done, he’s your guy.”

Tall, slender but strong, with ash-brown hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to take in everything while revealing nothing. He stood apart—not out of arrogance, but restraint. Discomfort.

When my gaze met his, something flickered. A momentary hesitation. He quickly looked away, shifting as if wanting to disappear into the background.

I studied him for a second longer before speaking lightly. “Daniel, is it?”

A small nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, I turned back to the rest of the team, letting them explain their work. I took notes, nodding, asking small but pointed questions that made it clear—I was watching.

I wanted them to feel valued. But also aware of my role.

I was here to oversee. To make sure everything was perfect.

And something told me this project was far from ordinary.