Repossessed: 30 Days to Reclaim His Pack

Two Signatures

Kane didn't touch the filing again.

He stared at his own name at the bottom of the page like it belonged to someone else.

"That's not possible," he said.

Ivy's arms were crossed. "It's your signature."

"I've never seen this document before in my life."

"Funny." Her voice was too calm. "Because it's dated the same day you rejected her."

Selene picked the filing up before Kane could stop her. Held it to the light.

"Blood-oath," she said. "Not ink."

"So?" Something tightened at the corner of Ivy's mouth.

"So it can be read." Selene didn't look up. "Blood carries a signer's mark the same way a voice carries a person's accent. I can tell whose it is — and when."

Kane's stomach turned over.

"Do it."

"It takes an hour. A blood-reading kit, and privacy." Selene finally met his eyes. "You should probably not be in the room when Ivy explains how she got this."

Ivy's chin lifted. "I found it. That's all you need to know."

"You found it in a vault only Kane has a key to." Selene's voice stayed flat. "That's not an answer. That's a confession waiting to happen."

Ivy's mouth opened. Nothing useful came out.

Kane stepped between them before it went further.

"Enough." He looked at Selene. "Run the reading."

She set up in the study an hour later. Vials, a thin blade, a shallow silver dish that glowed faint blue when the blood met it.

Kane watched from the doorway. Didn't sit.

"This is going to hurt," Selene said, not looking up. "Barely. I need fresh blood to compare against the sample on the page."

"I've had worse today."

She pricked his palm — the same hand, same old cut reopening slightly — and let a single drop fall into the dish.

The blue light pulsed once. Split into two distinct threads, curling apart from each other like they were arguing.

Selene's fingers curled tight around the dish's edge.

"What," Kane said.

"There are two signatures on this filing." Her voice had lost its flatness. "Both yours. Both blood-true."

"That's not possible. I only have one blood."

"I know." She looked up at him, and for the first time since she'd walked back into his life, she looked genuinely rattled. "One trace matches you exactly as you are right now. The other—" She hesitated.

"The other what?"

"The other doesn't match your current pattern at all. It's yours, but it's older. Rougher. Like you signed it while you were hurt, or drugged, or—"

"Or not myself," Kane said quietly.

His hand curled shut around the fresh cut, and he didn't loosen it.

"I don't remember signing anything that night," Kane said. "I remember my father's voice. I remember agreeing. I don't remember a pen in my hand."

Selene set the dish down carefully, like it might shatter.

"Then whoever forged this didn't fake your signature." She held his gaze, sharp and certain. "They made you sign it. Twice. And you don't remember either time."

Behind them, the study door was still open.

Ivy stood in the hallway, close enough to have heard every word — and for the first time since Selene had walked back into the Dravos pack, Ivy Castellan took a step back, one hand rising toward her own throat.

She didn't say anything at all.