Chapter 11
A week passed since Damien’s downfall, but the air still felt heavy — like the calm before another storm.
Hadley had returned to the spotlight, though this time on her terms. No more shadows, no more whispers. Her nightclub performances had become legend, drawing crowds from across the city. But this wasn’t about fame anymore — it was about power. Control. Survival.
Eric stayed close, always watching, always guarding. Their bond had deepened, no longer clouded by guilt or misunderstanding. And yet, something in Hadley had changed. She was sharper now. Hardened. And Eric noticed.
“You don’t sleep much anymore,” he said one morning, as she stared blankly out the window.
She didn’t look at him. “I hear things in the dark.”
Eric frowned. “What kind of things?”
“Footsteps that don’t belong. Voices I’ve never heard before.” Her gaze flicked to his. “I think someone’s watching me.”
Later that evening, Hadley received an anonymous envelope slipped beneath her dressing room door. No sender. Just a name written in bold, inked letters:
“M. Pearson.”
Her fingers trembled.
M. Pearson.
Her father’s name.
Except… he was dead. Or so she’d been told.
Inside the envelope was a single photograph — old, black and white, creased at the corners.
A woman — young, beautiful, unmistakably Hadley’s mother — stood beside a man in military uniform. But it wasn’t her father. At least, not the one she remembered.
Behind them, scribbled faintly, was a date and location:
“Valence, 2002. Project Seraph.”
Hadley’s breath caught.
She had never heard those words before — but they pulsed with danger.
Eric examined the photo later that night, a deep furrow forming between his brows. “This isn’t just a family photo. It’s a warning.”
“A warning from who?” Hadley whispered.
“Or maybe… an invitation,” he replied grimly. “Someone wants you to dig.”
“And what if I do?” she asked.
Eric looked her dead in the eyes. “Then we better be ready for what we find.”
They started their search the next morning. Every thread led to dead ends. The name “Project Seraph” triggered nothing official — but whispers hinted at a black ops program, long buried, connected to military experiments and private security firms.
All of it, somehow, tied back to Hadley’s birth.
She wasn’t just caught in Eric’s world of werewolves, packs, and alpha politics. Her past was darker — and possibly even more dangerous.
Then, one night, her phone rang.
Blocked number.
She answered.
A gravelly voice on the other end said:
“Valence. Meet me. Alone. Or Eric dies.”
The line went dead.
Hadley stared at the screen, heart racing, blood frozen.
Her past wasn’t just calling.
It was coming for her — and this time, it was ready to kill.