CANDICE.
I left at five in the morning.
The pack house was completely dark and silent. I moved through the east corridor and out the side door without seeing anyone. The unknown number had replied within minutes of my message — a location, a time, clean and specific. Whoever it was knew how to communicate with someone who didn't have time for anything unnecessary.
Thirty minutes out. Back roads. A car park off the northern woodland route.
I went alone.
The meeting was short. The person confirmed what I already suspected — Hawthorne's preparation phase was complete, his next move was imminent, and everything connected back to Leo's bloodline. They pointed me toward Rowan's archive. Said the file was buried there.
I was back at the pack house before six thirty.
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The place was stil
