King Novel novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

The scent of state cigarettes and cheap perfume clings to the hallway like a bad fucking omen.

My boots in against the cracked tiles x 1 mene, exch step heavier than the last. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker- bizzing like a dying mequitting everything in this sickly, yellow glow. The whole building smells like piss and regret. t’s the kind of place where dreams go to choke themselves ont in a corner.

Perfect place to chase down a fucking ghone.

My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag skang over my shoulder, the weight of the burner phone inside pressing against my ribe Three weeks. Three fucking weeks of dead ends, classified files, and chasing shadows through back alleys. Three weeks since I walked out of that shitty apartment, leaving Zoe behind with nothing but a goddamn receipt and a promise I knew I’d break

I thought I’d find something by now.

I’ve been to places where newspapers have said that the Alpha King now has visited with bad intentions.

But instead, I’m losing my goddamn mind.

I know he’s out there. I feel it in my fucking bones. Every time I close my eyes, I see him–those forest green eyes staring straight through me, mouth on mine, hand wrapped around my throat like he owned every broken piece of me. And maybe he did.

Maybe he still fucking does.

I shove the thought down where it belongs and keep moving.

Third floor. Room 306.

The tip I bought off some greasy little beta with a gambling debt told me this guy might have something on the Imperial Pack before, Old shit. Before the attack. Before everything went to hell and the world buried the case like they never existed. It’s a long shot–like everything I’ve been chasing–but I’m too far in to turn back now.

I stop outside the door, pressing my palm flat against the peeling wood. My heart’s already hammering in my chest, but I force myself to breathe through it.

No more waiting

No more hiding.

I knock twice.

Nothing.

I glance down the hallway–empty. Just flickering lights and peeling walls. My pulse picks up, the little voice in the back of my head hissing that I should fucking leave. But I don’t. Because if I’ve learned anything in the last three weeks, it’s that nothing worth knowing comes easy.

If I want to know what connection my parents had with the Imperial Pack, this is just one of the easy ways to do so.

I knock again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

“Fuck it.”

1/5

Chapter 69

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No one’s here

Figures

I move to the desk, shoving peper side–old park acconds, cramped Raising die bulk emgry fonte of winding sty fingers skim over everything scarding for mysking that migår tur murder to the imperial Picks

1 freeze.

A photograph.

My heart slams into my throa

It’s black and white, edges curled with age. A group of wohes–dressed in ours, standing in front of some grad fucking estate. The Imperial Crest carved into the stone behind them Mox of the bons e Muret her’s arned an

Except one.

Enoch.

Younger, Sharper. But still him.

His eyes cut straight through the photograph–like he knows I’m looking, even years later

Beside him, a girl a bit smaller than him is burned out of the picture.

Who is that?

My breath catches, fingers tightening around the edges.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until I hear the floorboard creak behind me.

I whip around–knife already in my hand–blade glinting under the weak light.

Nothing,

The air shifts. Cold. Wrong.

I fucking know when I’m being watched.

I swallow hard, eyes sweeping the room. I could swear there’s someone here–just out of sight. But I can’t see shit. My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of my own breath.

“Who’s there?” My voice comes out steady, but my heart’s punching against my ribs like it wants our

Nothing.

I back toward the door, knife still clutched tight in my hand.

2/5

25 Mar

Chapter 60

Fucking paranoia.

Or maybe not.

I grab the photo off the desk and shove it into my jacket pocket. I don’t have time to waste. Someone’s been scrubbing the Imperial Pack’s Attack out of history–but not well enough. This is proof. A crack in the wall.

I just have to pry it wide open.

I slip out of the room, locking the door behind me.

When I hit the hallway, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Footsteps echo one floor above.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I don’t wait to find out who the fuck they belong to.

By the time I hit the street, my heart’s trying to claw out of my chest. Cold air slaps me in the face, burning my lungs. I keep moving–tucking my hands deep into my jacket pockets, head down, blending into the night like every other lost soul in this godforsaken city.

I don’t stop until I’m three blocks away, tucked into the shadows of a busted payphone booth. My hands are shaking as I pull the photo out, smoothing the creased edges with my thumbs.

*

The ride home is the kind of suffocating silence that makes me want to bash my head through the window just to feel something.

Liam’s hands grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles have gone bone white. Zoe’s in the backseat, pretending she’s not eating this shit up like a front–row ticket to the latest werewolf soap opera.

Zoe is a human, that, I know for sure.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.” Liam mutters.

His voice cuts through the quiet, rough and low. I flick my eyes to him, barely turning my head.

“Not your concern, Boss.”

Liam’s jaw ticks, eyes fixed on the road. “Actually, it is. You’re under my watch, remember?”

His tone is calm, but there’s something under it–something… possessive. I fucking hate it.

Zoe snorts from the backseat. “I don’t know if you two hate each other or if this is just your messed–up way of flirting.”

My head snaps around to glare at her. “It’s not.”

Liam says nothing, but his fingers flex tighter on the steering wheel like he’s holding something back.

The ride drags on, the tension thick enough to choke on. By the time he drops Zoe off and it’s just the two of us, the silence has wrapped around the car like a noose.

He parks outside our building, kills the engine, and doesn’t move.

3/5

10:25 Tue, 25 Mar

Chapter 60

I don’t either.

“Are you gonna sit here and stare at the dashboard all night or what?” I snap, hand already on the door handle.

He exhales slowly, his head tilting against the seat. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

That one hits like a punch to the ribs,

I force out a laugh, sharp and hollow. “What? Having a job? Living my life?”

“Digging through shit that’s only gonna hurt you.”

My heart slams against my chest so hard I swear he can hear it.

96%1

Fuck him. Fuck him for seeing straight through me when I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything buried under sarcasm and coffee and sleepless nights.

I shove the door open without answering, slamming it behind me.

By the time I make it to my apartment, the overhead light flickers and dies the second I flick the switch.

“Perfect”

I grope around in the dark, knocking into furniture and cursing under my breath. I know there’s a spare bulb somewhere–I just have to-

A knock rattles the door.

“You’re hopeless,” Liam mutters the second I crack it open. He’s holding a fresh bulb and a fucking ladder like some overgrown handyman from hell.

“Fuck off.”

He steps inside without asking.

I cross my arms, leaning against the wall while he sets up the ladder and climbs. The space feels too small with him in it, like the air’s been sucked out.

The ladder wobbles slightly, and my body moves before my brain catches up–instinctive, stupid. My hands shoot out to steady him.

Big fucking mistake.