His Crode Clutches

Investigation?

|| Author POV ||

Killian stood in the study room of his mansion, his broad figure silhouetted by the cold, icy wind brushing against the window as he gazed at the night sky. His deep voice filled the room.

“Has the investigation made any progress?” he asked, his voice low but filled with quiet command.

The earpiece cracked a voice out. “We’ve gone over every file, every piece of evidence. There’s nothing to indicate what happened. It’s as if the trail’s been wiped clean.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed and his mind replayed the events from years ago, the case that had never been solved, someone who had disappeared without a trace.

“It’s been years, and we’re still in the dark.” Killian muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting.

“Someone’s covering their tracks. Whoever’s behind this is far too careful, and they’ve managed to erase everything. But there’s something we’re missing. We just haven’t found it yet.” The person on the other end spoke carefully, sensing the tension in Killian’s voice.

“We’ve investigated every possible lead. It doesn’t make sense, no one knows anything. It’s like it never happened.”

Killian’s jaw clenched, his thoughts running in circles. The case from years ago still haunted him, a reminder that there was something more, something deeper hidden beneath the surface.

“It’s too convenient. Someone’s making sure we don’t find the truth. You keep looking, and this time, dig through the past, everything from before. There’s got to be a connection. Someone out there knows exactly what happened, and they’re trying to bury it.”

Killian’s jaw tightened. “Go back! Check the academy’s memberships. Staff lists, visiting professors, even temporary workers from that year. Every damn name.”

“But that was years ago—”

“I know how long it’s been!” Killian cut him off coldly. “And that’s exactly the problem. If someone went through this much trouble to erase their tracks, it means they were close. Inside.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “They could be hiding behind a position. A fake identity. Or someone who left right after the incident. Cross-check everything—admissions, withdrawals, resignations. I want names!”

The man on the line exhaled slowly. “Understood, boss. I’ll have the team start digging.”

There was a moment of silence before the person on the other end spoke again. “We’ll keep going through it all. If there’s anything, we’ll find it.”

Killian exhaled, his eyes hardening. “Make sure of it.”

The call ended, and he stood there, staring out the window. The past wouldn’t stay buried forever. He would uncover the truth, even if it took him another decade.

He stood there like a statue. But then a faint ting echoed through the room. His eyes shifted to the phone in his hand, the screen flashing.

Five missed calls.

His brows furrowed slightly. He swiped to answer, the Bluetooth crackled to life again as the call connected. Sliding the phone into his pocket, his gaze returned to the cold, distant view outside.

“Who’s it?” Killian’s deep voice crackled through the Bluetooth speaker, his tone detached.

“It’s me... Elara.” Her voice wavered slightly, trying to sound composed.

Killian didn’t react, his eyes fixed on the deep forest in the far distance from the mansion.

“How are you?” Elara’s voice came through again, sounding distant and strained.

“Fine.” he replied curtly. “Why did you call?” His voice, colder than usual, sent an icy chill through the line.

There was a brief pause before her voice returned. “Grandpa is sick. He wants you both to visit him.”

Killian let out a quiet breath. “Tell him we’ll be there soon.” he said lowly.

Then, without waiting for a response, he hung up the call.

Everything fell silent. The scent of frost lingered in the air, thick with the promise of snow.

Winter was coming, not gentle, but brutal. The kind that froze bones and buried secrets beneath its icy breath.

And Killian… stood still, unmoved, as if he too were carved from the cold.

“The world owes you that visit, and so do I.”

|| Next day ||

The sleek black car slid down the empty road, its tires humming against the asphalt. Killian sat in the passenger seat, his phone loosely held in one hand. The screen had gone dark minutes ago, but he didn’t care.

His gaze was fixed outside the window, where the trees blurred into shadows.

Chris glanced Killian’s way through the corner of his eye but didn’t speak. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. The man beside him seemed far away, eyes cold, jaw set.

He looked like a man haunted by thoughts.

“You look lost, Killian.” Chris finally broke the silence, focusing on the road.

Chris calling him by name wasn’t something new, not when they had grown up together, raised under the same roof, by the same man.

“Elara didn’t call me, but you.” Chris spoke again, his eyes flicking to Killian briefly through the rearview mirror.

Killian didn’t shift his gaze. Just a faint hum escaped him, low and hollow.

“You know Grandpa’s strong. He’ll pull through.”

Killian didn’t answer. Chris exhaled slowly, his grip on the wheel steady. “I know it’s tough.” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But Grandpa has always fought through worse. He’s not going to give up now. We’ll be there for him. We always have been. Don’t let the worry eat you up.” Chris added quietly. “We’ll get through this, together.”

Killian didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared out of the window as the world passed by, the cold wind beginning to blow stronger.

“He’s the only one who never turned his back on me.” Killian muttered, almost to himself.

“I know.” Chris said with a chuckle, spinning the steering wheel.

The car sped down the road. As they neared the mansion, the grand estate came into full view. Its cold gray exterior looked more ancient than ever.

Killian finally blinked, eyes locking onto the familiar shape ahead.

Chris slowed the car, exhaling as the building came fully into view. “We’re here.” he murmured, his voice low.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand entrance.

Killian pushed the door open and stepped out, the wind biting at his coat. He stared up at the structure and snowflakes landed on his dark hair and melted instantly.

The guards stationed at the entrance straightened immediately. Their faces stoic and respectful. With practiced precision, they reached the heavy gates and pulled them open without hesitation.

As the gates creaked open, the guards bowed low in unison, their heads lowering in deference.

“Welcome back, sir.” one of them said respectfully.

Chris stood silently beside Killian as the gates opened. Killian gave a small nod, and without exchanging a word, the two of them walked in.

As they approached the door of the mansion, Killian and Chris’s eyes fell on the old man seated in a wheelchair. His posture was weaker than they remembered. A caretaker stood behind him, slowly pushing the wheelchair forward.

With slow determination, Albert, the old man, placed his hands on the armrests and began to rise. His legs trembled slightly, but he stayed upright.

Killian didn’t move at first; he watched the man. The corner of his eyes twitched slightly, emotion flickering beneath the cold mask he wore so well.

“Grandpa—” Chris stepped forward, concern tightening his voice. But Albert held up a hand, steady. “Let me.”

Killian didn’t wait. His footsteps echoed softly as he approached, his arms wrapping around him with careful restraint.

The old man let out a low chuckle, one hand lifting to pat Killian’s back. “Still the same boy… always silent when it matters most.”

“How are you?” Killian asked quietly, his voice slower than usual. The old man smiled faintly. “Better now that I see you both.”

Killian pulled back as Chris stepped forward, embracing the older man briefly before pulling away.

“Don’t stand up, Grandpa.” he said softly, placing a steady hand on Albert’s shoulder and gently guiding him back into the wheelchair. “You need to rest.”

“Don’t worry about me, my boys. Now that you both came, I’m already feeling strong.” Killian nodded quietly.

“Who are you talking to, Grandpa?” a female voice interrupted. Her frame appeared into the hall, her gaze shifting between the two men.

Albert’s face lit up. “Ah, Elara. They are already here. I was just telling them I’m feeling better now after seeing them again.”

Killian remained still. His eyes colder than usual, and he didn’t move his gaze.

Elara looked at Killian, her eyes softening slowly, then looked at Chris. “I see.” she said. “Well, you do look better... but don’t think I won’t still make you rest.”

The old man shook his head, a weary smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at Killian.

“You two must be exhausted. Go get some rest,” he said. Chris nodded.

Elara’s eyes remained fixed on Killian, his frozen expression, the quiet coldness radiating from him.

He didn’t move, not until he finally turned and made his way up the stairs without even sharing a glance at her. Chris followed him upstairs.

Elara turned her gaze to the old man. “Go back to your room, Grandpa. I’ll have the maids arrange lunch.”

Albert gave her a small smile, nodding slowly as he relaxed back into his chair. “You always know what needs to be done, my girl.”

Elara offered him a soft smile and nodded at the caretaker.

|| On the other hand ||

Rosa’s eyes stared emptily at the teacher standing in front of the board, the one who wasn’t supposed to be there.

It was his class time.

Rosa hadn’t seen him this morning. Not that she usually did. But still, something about today felt different.

Her chest felt tight. Maybe he was just absent.

Aria glanced at her. She noticed how dull Rosa’s eyes looked, no shine in them, none of the usual glow she saw when Killian Salvatore was around.

Now that he wasn’t here, Rosa looked pale.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she studied Rosa’s face, the way she kept glancing at the door as if she were waiting for someone to arrive.

Is she…?

Aria leaned back in her seat, the thought forming slowly.

‘Does Rosa have a crush on Mr. Salvatore?’ she thought.

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