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Chapter 103
Summer’s POV
Suzanna didn’t answer.
She sat still on the narrow cot, wrists resting limply in her lap, her eyes fixed on a crack in the floor like she could fall through it if she stared hard enough.
Her silence didn’t surprise me. She was a coward. Cowards always hoped silence would be mistaken for
strength.
I stepped forward and crouched in front of her, lowering my voice until it was barely above a whisper.
“You’d better say the truth now, Suzanna.‘
She blinked, but didn’t lift her head.
“Because I’m the calmest I’m going to be. And you should know better than anyone–I have time. And I have ways.”
Still nothing. But I saw it–the tiniest twitch in her fingers. A flicker of breath caught in her throat.
I leaned in just a little closer.
“How do you think Moore would handle it?” I murmured. “Having his body slowly pulled apart. No anesthetic. Just pain. Maybe we start with a kidney. Then a lung. Maybe I let him scream for a while before we move on to the next thing.”
Her head jerked up. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” I said flatly. “And if you keep lying to me, I will.”
Her lips parted in disbelief. Or fear. I didn’t care which.
A beat passed. Then another.
Finally, her voice cracked through the silence. She closed her eyes briefly, as if gathering courage.”I… I contacted someone I knew from the Western Alliance,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I lived there for a while before coming to Silver Creek. I have some connections.”
The Western Alliance was three territories over–far enough to provide anonymity but close enough for discreet meetings.
“And?” I prompted when she fell silent again.
“I asked if they could get me something quiet, something harmless. A short–acting sedative.” She swallowed hard. “A few days later, a woman brought it to me personally.”
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“You knew her?”
Suzanna shook her head. “No. She said she was sent by iny contact. She dressed normally, didn’t say much. She handed over the medication, told me it came from ‘internal channels,‘ and instructed me to use it according to directions. She warned me not to ask questions.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And you just trusted her?”
“Of course not,” Suzanna’s voice took on a defensive edge. “I checked with my people in the Western Alliance. The woman was legitimate.”
“What about this contact’s information? A name? A number?”
“It was in the phone you stole from me,” she snapped, a flash of her old venom returning.
My breath caught.
The phone.
Damn it–I’d forgotten all about it.
I took a slow step closer, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
“You better pray you’re telling the truth. Because if I find out you’re lying-”
I leaned in, eyes locked on hers.
“-you and Moore won’t just die. You’ll wish you had sooner.”
Alexander was waiting at the top of the stairs when I emerged from the holding cells, his powerful frame tense with concern. The moment he saw my face, he stepped forward, strong arms enveloping me.
“She admitted contacting someone from the Western Alliance,” I said against his chest. “A woman delivered the drugs, but Suzanna claims not to know her identity.”
His hand stroked soothingly down my spine. “It’s something. My contacts there might be able to trace it.”
I pulled back enough to look up at him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I want her to suffer everything she put Felix through. Everything she put me through.”
Alexander’s eyes–those eyes that could be so gentle with me–hardened like glacial ice. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“The organs they took from Felix and me–I want them removed from her and Moore. Without anesthesia. I want them to feel every second of the pain they caused.” My voice was steady, resolute. “And then I want them expelled from pack territories. Let them try to survive as rogues with their stolen parts ripped away.”
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Anyone else might have been horrified by my viciousness. But Alexander simply nodded, his expression grave but understanding.
“If that’s what you need for closure, Summer,” he said quietly, “then that’s what we’ll do.”
The beast inside me–the part that had awakened when I’d found Felix dying–settled slightly at his words. Alexander understood vengeance. Understood that sometimes mercy was a luxury victims couldn’t afford.
“First, let’s see what we can find on that phone,” he continued, guiding me toward the private wing of the pack house. “You didn’t throw it out, did you?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “But I think the battery’s dead.”
In Alexander’s office, I plugged in Suzanna’s phone to charge. The sleek device seemed innocent enough, but I knew better–it contained the arrangements for my son’s murder.
“It’ll take a few minutes,” Alexander said, coming to stand behind me. His strong hands massaged my tense shoulders. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m not,” I admitted. “I’m running on rage and grief.”
His lips brushed the top of my head. “That’s enough for now. We’ll get through this together.”
When the phone finally powered on, I immediately went to the message app. Most conversations were mundane–beauty appointments, shopping lists, flirtatious exchanges with other man,not Alpha Foster.
Then I found it–a thread with no contact name, just a number.
“Here,” I said, pointing to the screen.
Alexander leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck as we scrolled through the messages:
*S: Need help with a problem. Discreet.*
*Unknown: What kind?*
*S: Medical. Something quick, untraceable.*
*Unknown: For?*
*S: A small nuisance. Nothing permanent. Just need it out of the way.*
*Unknown: 5k. Western border. Friday.*
*S: Agreed.*
Then, weeks later:
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*S: I need something else. Arousal–based.*
*Unknown: Not available.*
*S: Anything similar?*
*Unknown: No. We’re done.*
*S: I can pay more.*
*Unknown: Doesn’t change my answer.*
I stared at the screen, lips pressed into a tight line, then typed a message of my own.
*S: Who are you really?*
I hit send.
An error bubble popped up immediately.
“Message failed to deliver.”
I frowned, tried again–another failure, this time with a red exclamation mark.
Blocked.
“They cut her off,” I muttered.
Alexander leaned over, eyes narrowing as he took in the screen. He tapped a few keys, tried to reroute the
message through the system, but the result was the same.
“No transmission,” he said. “It’s not just offline–she’s been blacklisted.”
I looked at him. “You mean-”
“It’s a virtual number,” he confirmed grimly. “Anonymous routing, likely temporary. Whoever it was didn’t just stop responding. They erased the line. This was deliberate.”
I stared at the screen again, a chill crawling up my spine.
Suzanna hadn’t just been ghosted.
She’d been eliminated–from the chain of contact, from the operation, from the moment she served her
purpose.
Someone had planned this from the beginning.
And they didn’t leave loose ends.
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