Chapter 9 Blood debt

Zara

I didn't go home.

Not to my apartment. Not to Damian's.

I ended up in a rundown motel on the edge of the city, one of those places where the vending machine doesn't work and everything smells like bleach and regret.

I needed to think. Needed air. Needed distance.

Elin's offer played on repeat in my head.

A ledger.

Proof.

A way to destroy Black Ridge without getting my hands dirty.

But there was a catch. There was always a catch with her.

I just didn't know what it was yet.

---

I stared at the cracked ceiling until dawn, barely blinking, heart hammering like a war drum.

Damian would be looking for me.

I should've called him.

Should've told him what Elin said.

But part of me still didn't trust him.

Not completely.

Because if that ledger had proof of what they did to me... and if he knew about it?

If he knew and stayed silent?

Then all of this - the kisses, the confessions, the promises - it would mean nothing.

It would've all been a lie.

---

By 7am, I made my choice.

I texted Elin.

Z: Where is it?

She responded instantly.

E: Storage unit off 54th. Bring bolt cutters. Come alone.

Of course.

Because nothing was ever easy.

---

The unit was buried in a maze of rusted-out metal lockers, half of them overgrown with weeds and bad memories. Elin was already there, waiting beside unit 3C, hoodie up, sunglasses on.

"Cut it," she said, tossing me the bolt cutters.

I caught them. "Always making me do the hard part."

She smiled. "Old habits."

I broke the lock in two snaps.

The door creaked open.

Inside: dusty boxes, a filing cabinet, a faded tarp.

And under the tarp-sealed crates with the Black Ridge insignia burned into the wood.

"Elin," I said, slowly, "this isn't just a ledger."

"No," she admitted. "It's everything."

Weapons.

Photos.

Marked contracts.

A binder thick with handwritten notes in a language only the old wolves used.

My stomach twisted.

"How long have you been sitting on this?" I asked.

"Since you were exiled."

My hands clenched. "So you knew."

She didn't deny it.

"I couldn't stop what happened to you," she said. "But I could collect the proof."

"Why?"

She looked at me.

"Because I knew one day you'd come back. And I knew you'd be the only one willing to burn it all down."

---

Damian

I found her motel room by scent alone.

Old instinct.

Old bond.

It led me straight to her, even through city filth and the lie of distance.

I knocked once.

No answer.

So I let myself in.

She'd been there.

The bed was unmade. The mirror fogged from a recent shower. A tea mug still warm on the side table.

But she was gone.

Again.

My phone buzzed.

Lena: She's at a private storage lot on 54th. Security cam pinged her plate.

I was already moving.

Heart in my throat.

Wolf clawing at the edges of my skin.

I didn't know what she was doing - but I knew who sent her there.

Elin.

And if Zara was with her?

There'd be hell to pay.

---

I reached the lot ten minutes later.

Saw her just as she stepped out of the unit.

She turned, eyes flashing.

Not surprise. Not fear.

Just... fury.

"You followed me?" she asked.

"I tracked you."

She laughed bitterly. "Same thing."

I looked past her, into the unit.

Saw crates.

Black Ridge crates.

"What is this?" I asked.

"You tell me," she said.

"Elin gave you this?"

"She handed it to me," Zara said. "So either she's trying to use me, or this is her way of washing her hands."

I stepped closer.

"And what're you gonna do with it?"

She stared at me.

"You tell me," she echoed. "Should I burn it? Or publish it?"

"I need to see it."

"No," she snapped. "You don't get to read it first. You don't get to filter what comes out."

"I'm not trying to protect them-"

"Then prove it. Help me expose them."

I hesitated.

And she saw it.

"You knew," she whispered.

"No."

"You knew. Maybe not all of it. But some of it."

I didn't speak.

Because she was right.

Because I had known. Bits and pieces. Whispers. But I looked the other way. Told myself it was politics. Pack business.

She stepped back.

Eyes wet.

Hands shaking.

"You let them do it to me," she said.

"No," I said. "I didn't let it happen. I just didn't stop it."

"Same thing."

Her voice cracked on the words.

And mine broke with them.

---

Zara

I didn't know what to do.

Hurt him. Kiss him. Run.

So I did none of those things.

I turned back toward the storage unit.

Toward the proof.

Toward the truth I'd been craving for four long, empty years.

I grabbed the ledger. Heavy. Bound in leather. Stained with time.

"Then help me," I said without turning around. "Help me end this."

He came to stand beside me.

Close, but not touching.

"I will," he said. "Whatever it takes."

And for the first time since coming back...

I almost believed him.