Chapter 171
Chapter 171:
“Who is she?” I whispered, leaning closer to the screen. The thermal imaging obscured her facial features, but as the woman turned to walk away, I saw it. With every step she took, the thermal signature in her left thigh flickered with a distinct, unnatural temperature drop — a deep-tissue anomaly. An old, severe horseback riding injury that had healed flawlessly on the surface but left a permanent biological mark in the muscle. I had spent two years as a silent assistant, observing every detail of the people who mocked me.
“Sloane Prescott,” I breathed.
The smoking gun. Sloane was the maid. And Sloane belonged entirely to Kira Parrish.
I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Sheriff Xander.
“Ms. Wolfe,” Xander answered, his tone exhausted. “Unless you have a confession, my hands are tied p>
𝖭е𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝗄𝗅y 𝘤𝗵aр𝘁𝘦𝗋s o𝗇
“I have a thermal video proving Zack Rutledge possessed the unbroken violin after the police were called,” I stated firmly. “It also shows him accepting a cash payoff from his accomplice. Her name is Sloane Prescott p>
A heavy pause hung on the line. “Prescott,” Xander muttered. “They really are amateurs. Send me the file. I’ll have units pick up Rutledge for questioning immediately p>
I hung up the phone, a fierce surge of triumph flooding my veins. But before I could even exhale, a dull, rhythmic chanting bled through the thick glass of my office window.
I stood and crossed to the glass. Down on the street below, a crowd of protesters had gathered behind police barricades, waving crude signs that read A Wolfless Luna is a Broken Shield! and #WolfeFail. Camera flashes popped like strobe lights in the morning gloom.
Kira was making her last, desperate stand in the court of public opinion.
I stared down at the angry mob, my pulse steady and cold. I unplugged the flash drive containing the thermal video and slipped it into the pocket of my black suit jacket. I didn’t need to hide in my office any longer. I turned away from the window and headed for the door, ready to walk straight through that crowd and deliver the final nail in Kira’s coffin to the police precinct.
Kain POV
The Apex Trading Floor at Blackstone Tower was a cavern of glass and digital warfare. Massive screens lined the walls, flashing a chaotic sea of red and green numbers, but my focus was entirely on the encrypted tablet in my hand.
My Lycan was thrashing against my ribs — a bloodthirsty shadow demanding violence. Kira Parrish had dared to humiliate my Fated Mate on a continent-wide broadcast and hired a Rogue to shatter her sanctuary. Adelina was currently marching out to fight her legal battle, but I was going to sever the root of the rot.
I stood on the glass balcony overlooking the frantic traders below. Fletcher Banks stood beside me, his tablet glowing in the dim light. The air around us was suffocatingly thick with my ancient cedar scent, heavy with the crackling ozone of my barely contained rage.
“Dump it,” I commanded, my voice a low, gravelly rumble that made the glass railing vibrate. “All of Parrish Holdings. I don’t care if it triggers the human SEC circuit breakers. Flood the market with sell orders p>
Fletcher nodded, his fingers flying across his screen to relay the execution.
On the main wall, the ticker for Parrish Holdings shifted. The numbers began to freefall. $45.00… $42.50… $38.00.