Buried Trails and Bitter Truths

Rae froze mid-keystroke, her hand trembling slightly as she blinked rapidly. The color had drained from her face again.

“Remi,” she said, voice thinner this time. “I need orange juice. And something salty. My sugar’s still not up.”

Remi didn’t hesitate—she was already at the supply drawer, grabbing a juice box, peanut butter crackers, and a protein bar. She returned quickly, kneeling next to Rae and pushing the straw into the juice.

“Small sips,” she murmured, her tone gentle but practiced.

Rae followed instructions, breathing slowly as the juice started to work its way through her system. She tore open the crackers and took a bite between swigs. After a few minutes, she leaned back in her chair and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Okay,” she muttered, her voice regaining its edge. Her eyes darted toward Will and Trey, still standing nearby. “You two. Question time.”

They both straightened, suddenly very aware of Rae’s intensity.

“In the last nine years,” Rae said, leveling her gaze at them, “who in your pack would’ve had access to your movements, locations, schedules—anything that could track where you’d be and when? I’m talking every trip, every patrol rotation, off-the-record meetups. Who knew?”

Will frowned, crossing his arms. “Outside of council-approved briefings, that list would be short. Captains, lieutenants, maybe some of the older betas who ran security shifts. But detailed movement patterns? That would’ve been internal—either kept in patrol logs or relayed through the comm lines.”

Trey nodded. “We didn’t exactly broadcast where we were headed day-to-day, unless it was for a mission or strategic run. But there were record-keepers—people assigned to data entries. Especially during the border patrol rotations.”

Rae’s eyes narrowed. “Names. I want names. Anyone who logged or tracked your positions, even if it was just once.”

Trey exchanged a look with Will. “There was Brannon. He worked dispatch before he moved to records. Had access to comm relays and routing info.”

“And Dana,” Will added reluctantly. “She was council-assigned. Did most of the encrypted file transfers. She had clearance to the secure server archives.”

“Good,” Rae said, cracking her knuckles. “I want full names, titles, and any known devices they’ve used in the last decade. Phones, laptops, anything they’ve ever plugged into a pack system.”

Remi gave her a knowing look. “You think it was an inside job?”

“I think,” Rae said darkly, “that someone inside your system either handed over breadcrumbs… or got sloppy enough to be used. And I’m about to find out which.”

She popped another cracker in her mouth, swallowed hard, and turned back to her laptop.

“You don’t come after my people and think I won’t dig through your entire damn bloodline to find out how.”

And with that, the room fell silent—except for the furious rhythm of her typing.

Rae’s fingers paused again, just long enough for her to swivel her laptop screen toward herself and open another file. A name blinked at the top of a flagged hospital report.

Dr. Landon Pierce.

She looked up sharply, eyes flicking to Will and Trey. “One more thing—who the hell is Dr. Landon Pierce?”

Will’s brow furrowed. “He’s one of the attending physicians at the pack hospital. Works mostly nights now. Why?”

Trey leaned in slightly. “Yeah, he’s been around for a while. Not overly social, but smart. Why are you asking?”

Rae gave a grim little laugh. “Because this guy worked at the same hospital Del, Remi, and I did rounds at in Chicago. Same rotation schedules. I remember him. Quiet, kept to himself—but his reputation was sketchy. He got reprimanded once for experimenting with off-books compounds in post-op patients. Nothing that got him booted, but enough to put him on the radar.”

Remi straightened at that. “Wait, that’s the same guy?”

“Yup.” Rae tapped a file and turned the screen toward them. “Look at this. Internal review notes—he was caught trying to isolate neurological effects from exposure to low-dose wolfvine. Said it was for ‘research.’ Claimed he was prepping for a cross-species immunity study.”

Trey’s expression darkened. “Wolfvine? That’s banned in any clinical research—”

“Exactly.” Rae’s voice was low and cold now. “And yet somehow, this guy gets relocated to your hospital here. Right in the middle of all of this.”

Will took a step closer, tension rippling across his shoulders. “Why didn’t anyone catch this during vetting?”

Rae gave him a sharp look. “Because someone buried it. That’s what I’m saying—this isn’t random. This guy got moved here with intention. And I’m betting if we check his recent activities, we’ll find more than a few breadcrumbs leading back to this mess.”

Remi exhaled, stepping back and running a hand through her hair. “So Pierce isn’t just a coincidence. He’s part of it.”

“Maybe not the brains,” Rae muttered, opening a secure access request form, “but definitely a willing hand. And tomorrow? I’m going to his office.”

Trey raised an eyebrow. “Won’t be easy. He keeps it locked, and he’s paranoid.”

Rae grinned, though there was no humor in it. “Good. Paranoid people always leave the most interesting trails.”

She paused, reaching for another sip of juice.

“And if we’re lucky,” she added, eyes narrowing, “I’ll find out exactly what he’s hiding—and who helped him hide it.”