Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 167

Betrayed by Blood

The office was nothing like she remembered.

The place that was once filled with the heavy scent of her father’s presence was now cluttered with nothing but stacks of papers, used cigarettes, and cheap alcohol.

Avery stood in the center of the room, her fingers twitching at her sides as she looked around. The wooden desk that had once been sharp and clean was now covered in stains, the shelves sagged under the weight. The curtains were drawn down as if even the sun had turned its back on this place.

Disgust curled in her stomach.

This was what had become of her father’s legacy? This was what Hugh had reduced it to?

"There’s nothing here," Emma muttered from the side.

Avery turned to look at her. "You said Uncle Hugh kept it all here, right?" Emma nodded. "Then it has to be here." Avery said, eyeing the place once more before getting to work. She was tired from the long day she had but she wouldn’t be satisfied knowing her grandmother’s frame was out here in the office. The white streaks in her hair had bothered her since she got her wolf, and now that she could find out what exactly it was about, she wouldn’t miss the chance.

They all got right into it, searching as Avery wasn’t willing to let go of it.

Avery moved toward the desk, dragging her fingers across the surface. There had to be a false bottom, a hidden drawer... something. She yanked at the drawers, sending ink bottles and crumpled notes crashing to the floor. When she found nothing, she turned to the shelves, pulling the books, shaking them for anything hidden between their pages.

Nothing. frёewebnoѵēl.com

Frustration clawed at her throat.

"This isn’t right," Avery whispered.

"Avery—" Lydia started, but Avery wasn’t listening.

She dropped to her knees, running her hands over the wooden floorboards. She could feel it, like a tingling sensation on her fingers. Her breath quickened; she knew it had to be here.

She pressed her palm flat against the ground, feeling for a shift in the wood, and then, just beneath her fingertips, she felt it.

Without hesitation, she dug her fingers into the narrow gap and pulled. The wood groaned, splinters digging into her fingertips, but she didn’t stop. She ripped the boards free, one after another, until she saw it.

A frame.

And a locked box.

Lydia reached down, gripping Avery’s arm and pulling her up with ease. "You good?" she asked, eyeing the raw scrapes on Avery’s fingers from tearing at the floorboards.

Avery barely noticed the sting. Her gaze was locked on the frame in her hands, her breath coming in short. Slowly, she wiped away the dust with her sleeve, revealing the delicate features of the woman inside.

Her grandmother.

The resemblance was undeniable, the same sharp cheekbones, the same piercing eyes that seemed to stare right through her.

Avery’s throat tightened. "I’ve never seen this picture before."

Lydia and Emma stepped closer, peering over her shoulder.

"That’s your grandmother?" Lydia asked.

Avery nodded slowly. "She died before I was born."

Lydia frowned. "And the box?"

Avery turned her gaze to the locked box in her other hand. It was heavier than it looked; she ran her fingers along the intricate carvings on the lid. The lock was old, rusted, but still intact. With a deep breath, she dug her nails into the small latch and pried it open.

Inside, a collection of aged papers, small trinkets, and a bundle of letters tied together with a faded ribbon lay neatly arranged. Avery reached for the topmost letter. The writing was elegant, precise. But the words made no sense to her.

"These belonged to my mother," she murmured, her chest tightening. "I don’t understand them, but I know they were hers."

Lydia’s eyes darkened. "Then we’ll figure it out."

Avery’s grip on the letter tightened. "I need answers." She exhaled sharply and straightened up. "I’ll ask Uncle Hugh. He hid them, so he certainly knows about it."

"No." Lydia’s voice was firm, her hand darting out to grip Avery’s wrist before she could turn toward the door.

Avery blinked. "Lydia—"

"It’s late. Very late, and it’s been a long day. You should get some sleep and talk to Cain about this..." she paused, glancing towards the box. "I’m not sure he’ll be in support of asking Hugh, but still, give it tonight."

"But—I need to know. I’ll just ask and—"

"Be serious, Avery. Do you think he’s just going to tell you what this all means?" Lydia’s gaze was sharp. "You think he’s going to help you?"

"I don’t know," Avery admitted. "But he knows something. I can feel it."

Lydia shook her head. "I don’t care what you feel. He’s dangerous, Avery. He’ll use this against you."

Emma, who had been silent, finally spoke. "She’s right," she murmured. "I think you should sleep on this first and ask the alpha. Your uncle is a very dangerous man, Avery. You might want to take precautions or maybe not see him."

Avery hesitated, her pulse racing. "Fine. I’ll just take this and go to bed."

Avery carried the frame and locked box carefully as she walked back to the room.

She closed her door behind her and set the items down on the small table near the window. The night breeze slipped through the curtains, cooling her heated skin. She was exhausted, her body worn from the long day, but her mind was restless.

A soft knock at the door made her turn.

Cain.

He stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the space. His gaze flicked over her, assessing, before landing on the frame and the box.

"I heard you found something and that I might need to say no to you?" He said, clearly confused.

"I found a framed photograph of my grandmother," she murmured, motioning toward it. "And... some things that belonged to my mother. I don’t understand them yet."

Cain moved closer, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the image of her grandmother. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said nothing.

Instead, he turned his attention back to her. "Where were you?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"Taking care of some business," Cain answered simply. His tone was clipped, but she didn’t push.

Avery hesitated before speaking again. "I want to ask Hugh about them."

Cain’s expression darkened instantly. "No."

She frowned. "Cain—"

"He’s dangerous, Avery. He must be locked up at all times." His voice was firm, final. "I don’t trust him, and neither should you."

"I know he’s dangerous, but I’m curious about this, and he’s the only person I know that can explain what all of these mean to me. He went through a lot of hurdles to hide it."

"Avery...it’s your uncle. The same one who pushed you off the cliff, you remember that, right?"

Avery inhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the edge of the table. Of course, she remembered. How could she forget?

Her jaw clenched. "I remember," she said, her voice quieter now. "But that’s exactly why I have to ask him. He has to look right into my eyes and lie to me. I want the truth, Cain."

Cain’s eyes burned into hers; he exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face before looking at her again. His jaw was tight. "If you must do this," he said slowly, "then it will be on my terms."

Avery frowned. "What do you mean?"

Cain stepped closer, towering over her. "Hugh doesn’t leave the dungeon. If you want answers, you go to him. And you don’t get any closer than five feet..."

"I’m okay to take care of myself with him, Cain." Avery gritted out.

"I don’t want him hurting you." He confessed.

Avery blinked, surprised and also that he was relenting at all.

She nodded. "Alright. Five feet."

Cain studied her carefully, as if gauging whether she would actually listen. Then, after a long pause, he sighed. "I’ll have the guards arrange it tomorrow."

Relief rushed through her, but before she could say anything, he stepped even closer, his fingers brushing her chin.

"You’ll take guards with you," he murmured, his voice quieter now, but no less serious. "And if he tries anything, I’ll kill him."