Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
ISABELLA
T he bell above the door jingles as I push into the Moonlight Café, the enticing aroma of smoked meats, soups, and fresh coffee hitting me like a comforting embrace. The air inside is cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clatter of plates being set on tables. It’s a stark contrast to the chill outside, where my breath fogged the air as I hustled between errands.
Marjorie looks up from behind the counter, her sharp eyes softening when she spots me. “Well, look who’s finally taking a break,” she says, her voice cheerful but tinged with its usual playful bite.
I smile as I approach the counter, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “If you call lunch a break. I’ve been running around all morning picking up supplies for the clinic.”
“Supplies can wait,” Marjorie says, pouring a steaming cup of coffee and sliding it toward me. “Sit. Eat. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the cup and heading to one of the small corner tables by the window. From here, I can see the town’s main street, quiet but alive with small movements—Gus at the garage wiping his hands on a rag, Dorothy sweeping the steps of the bakery across the street.
I sink into the chair with a sigh, the warmth of the coffee seeping into my hands. The morning’s errands have left me chilly and tense, my mind racing with a list of things still left to do at the clinic. But for now, I let myself relax, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
Marjorie bustles over a moment later, a plate balanced in her hands. “Patty melt with beer batter onion rings,” she says, setting it down in front of me. “And don’t even think about paying—it’s on the house.”
I blink up at her. “Marjorie, you don’t have to...”
“I know I don’t,” she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “But Arthur was a friend, and I want to make sure you’re keeping up his work. You’re doing good things at that clinic, Bella. The least I can do is feed you.”
Her words catch me off guard, a lump forming in my throat. “Thank you,” I say quietly, my fingers tightening around the coffee cup. “That means a lot.”
She smiles, her expression softening, before heading back to the counter. I pick up the sandwich and take a bite, savoring the flavors as I glance around the café. The café’s patty melt is absolutely the best I’ve ever had. The café isn’t big, but it feels like the heart of Shadow Hollow, the place where everyone seems to converge at least once a day.
At a nearby table, two older men are chatting quietly, their conversation catching my attention.
“...never seen tracks that big before,” one of them says, shaking his head. “Something’s out there.”
“Could be one of those mutants,” the other replies, his voice low. “They’ve been sniffing around the borders for weeks now. The sheriff better keep an eye on things.”
I stiffen, my appetite suddenly waning. The mention of the mutants sends a shiver through me, a reminder of how fragile the peace in this town really is. I’ve been trying to focus on the clinic, but the shadows pressing in from the woods are impossible to ignore.
“Refill?” Marjorie’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. She’s standing beside my table, the coffee pot in hand.
I nod, pushing my cup toward her. “Do you think the Crimson Claw is getting bolder?” I ask, my voice low enough that only she can hear.
Her expression hardens, and she pours the coffee without answering right away. “The Crimson Claw has been a problem for years,” she says finally, her tone measured. “But things feel... different now. Like they’re not just scavenging. Like they’re planning something.”
I frown, the unease in my chest growing. “Planning what?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” she says, setting the pot on the table and leaning closer. “You be careful, Bella. You’re doing good work, but you’ve got enough on your plate without poking the bear, or the mutant, in this case.”
I nod again, her words sinking in as I take another sip of coffee. The rest of my meal passes in a haze, my thoughts tangled with questions I can’t seem to unravel.
By the time I finish and step back outside, the chill of the air is a welcome distraction. My Jeep is parked a few steps away, loaded with supplies for the clinic. As I climb into the driver’s seat, I glance back toward the café, where Marjorie stands at the window, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
Whatever’s coming, it feels like it’s closing in fast. But I won’t back down—not from the Crimson Claw, not from whatever killed Arthur and not from the pack that turned its back on my grandmother. Shadow Hollow is my home now, and I’m not going anywhere.
I pull up to the clinic and notice the door is ajar, swinging slightly in the breeze. My heart plummets into my stomach as I step out of the Jeep, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The soft creak of the hinges as I approach feels deafening in the quiet, every nerve in my body screaming that something isn’t right.
My hands shake as I push the door open wider. The familiar scent of antiseptic and wood polish is drowned out by the sharp tang of chaos. Papers are scattered across the floor and cabinets hang open, their contents dumped in messy piles. The place looks like it’s been hit by a tornado.
“Blue?” I call and hear him scrambling out from under the cot in the back room. He runs to me and jumps into my arms. A quick check and I can see he’s frightened but not harmed.
I step further inside, swallowing the lump in my throat as I take in the destruction. My stomach churns as I enter my office and see my desk overturned, drawers ripped open and Arthur’s files—the files I’ve been carefully piecing together—gone.
I feel a mixture of rage and helplessness bubbling to the surface. I pull out my phone with trembling hands and dial the one number I know I probably shouldn’t. The phone rings once before Ryder’s voice, low and sharp, fills my ear.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, no preamble, just that commanding tone that grates on my nerves and grounds me at the same time.
“The clinic,” I manage, my voice breaking. “It’s been broken into. The notes, they’re gone.”
“Go get in your Jeep. Lock the doors and wait for me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m on my way.”
The line goes dead, and I shove my phone into my pocket, going back out to the Jeep, ensuring nothing is hiding there waiting, and lock both Blue and I inside. My hands curl around the steering wheel as I sit there, anger burning away the lingering fear. Whoever did this wasn’t just looking for something—they were looking for Arthur’s secrets. For answers I’m not even close to figuring out yet.
Ryder’s truck pulls up beside me and he motions for me to remain in the Jeep. He enters the clinic with Lucas at his side. After a few minutes Lucas returns to move Blue and I back inside. Ryder comes out of the back, his gaze sweeping the room, his eyes narrowing, the anger radiating off him in waves. Lucas lingers near the doorway, his expression grim.
“Are you all right?” I nod. “What the hell happened here?” Ryder asks, his voice low and dangerous.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I went into town to get some supplies and decided to treat myself by having lunch at the Moonlight Café. When I returned, I found this.” I gesture at the chaos around me. “They took Arthur’s files, Ryder. Everything I’ve been working on.”
His jaw clenches, as he steps further into the room. He moves like a predator, each step deliberate as he scans the scene, his gaze lingering on the overturned desk and the empty file cabinet.
Lucas crouches near the mess of papers on the floor, picking up a few scattered pages. “Looks like they knew exactly what they were looking for,” he says, his tone grim. “This wasn’t random.”
“No kidding,” I snap as I glare at the mess. “From what I can tell, Arthur’s files were the only things they took. Whoever did this knew what to look for, what they might find.”
Ryder’s gaze snaps to mine, his dark eyes blazing. “You’re sure it was the files?”
“Positive,” I say, meeting his stare. “Everything else seems to be here. The equipment, the medicines and other supplies—it’s all untouched.”
He exhales sharply, his hands resting on his hips as he surveys the destruction. “Damn it. You shouldn’t be here alone,” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Pack your things. You’ll be staying at the lodge.”
“I can take care of myself,” I say, crossing my arms.
His jaw tightens, and I think he’s going to argue. But instead, he steps closer, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Not against this, Bella. Not when they’re clearly targeting you now. We’ll help, but right now, I need you to listen to me.”
His words hang between us, their meaning not lost on me. I nod, knowing he’s right. For now.
“We’ll figure this out,” Lucas says, stepping between us with his usual easy charm. “But first, we need to make sure the clinic is secure. Whoever did this might come back.”
Ryder nods, turning to Lucas. “You stay here and lock things down. I’ll take Bella out to the estate.”
I bristle at the implication that I can’t secure the clinic, but before I can argue, Ryder’s hand brushes against mine, “Trust me,” he says quietly, his eyes searching mine.
And for reasons I can’t explain, I do.
I go back into the office, where I’ve been sleeping and keeping my things. It looks like a bomb went off. Papers litter the floor, drawers hang open at awkward angles, and the air carries the faint, acrid scent of the presence of strangers. I crouch near Arthur’s overturned desk, picking up what scraps of paper remain. Nothing here makes sense—just incomplete notes about animal migration patterns and vague references to forest activity.
The files that were stolen were the ones Arthur was most protective of, the ones that hinted at something far bigger than routine veterinary work. The Crimson Claw. The declining birthrates. Illegal poaching. Arthur knew something that got him killed, and now I feel like the pieces to solving this puzzle are slipping through my fingers.
Ryder is across the room, barking orders into his phone. His voice is low, commanding, a tone that sends a shiver through me for reasons I can’t entirely untangle. He’s not just some brooding small-town local; he’s an alpha. And right now, he’s wielding that authority like a weapon.
“Fan out,” he snarls into the phone. “I want every inch of the forest combed. Whoever did this isn’t far. I want their scent. I want tracks. Now.”
He ends the call and turns back to the room, his gaze scanning the wreckage with sharp intensity. There’s something magnetic about the way he moves, the sheer force of his presence. In that instant, I forget to be angry.
“Whoever did this knew what they were looking for,” I say. “I wasn’t gone all that long. They didn’t waste time.”
His jaw tightens, and I catch the flicker of frustration in his eyes. “They were looking for Arthur’s files.”
“I know,” I say, “and they took everything that had to do with the mutants and the poaching.”
Ryder nods, his expression grim. “Those files were dangerous. If they fall into the wrong hands...”
“They already have. Arthur was killed because of this, wasn’t he? And now they have the evidence he’d been compiling.”
I turn back to the desk, my hands moving over the splintered wood, searching for something—anything—that the intruders might have missed. My fingers brush against an uneven edge near the bottom drawer, and my heart skips a beat. There’s a faint seam in the wood, almost imperceptible. Arthur was a sucker for desks with hidden compartments.
“Bella,” Ryder says, his tone cautious. “What are you doing?”
I ignore him, focusing on the task at hand. My fingers scrape against the seam until I find a hidden latch. With a soft click, a small compartment pops open, revealing a single flash drive nestled inside.
My breath catches as I stare at it, the discovery settling over me. This is classic Arthur. Sure he’d have his hand-written notes, but I had been surprised when I didn’t find anything on the computer system. This has to be where Arthur was hiding it—what the intruders didn’t find.
“Bella?” Ryder steps closer, his voice sharper now. “What did you find?”
I close the compartment quickly, slipping the flash drive into my pocket before he can see. My pulse races as I straighten, forcing a calm expression onto my face.
“Nothing,” I say, brushing past him. “Just... checking for damage.”
He watches me closely, his eyes narrowing. I can tell he doesn’t necessarily believe me, but he doesn’t press the issue.
“Stay close,” he says, his tone clipped. “Until we know who did this, you’re not safe.”
“I’m not a child, Ryder,” I say, spinning to face him. “I don’t need you hovering.”
His eyes flash, and he steps closer, his towering frame impossible to ignore. “This isn’t hovering, it’s making sure you don’t end up like Arthur.”
The words hit me like a slap, and I flinch despite myself. The anger drains from his face, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly, his voice softer now. “But I need you to understand the threat is very real.”
“I know it’s dangerous,” I say, my voice trembling. “But I can’t stop now. Not when I’m this close.”
His gaze lingers on mine, searching, and I feel the pull between us again, something neither of us seems willing to name.
“I know, but from here on out you stay at the lodge. You stay with me, and you go nowhere without my approval and a proper escort.”
“You don’t just get to order me around,” I say.
“Want to bet?”
“Fine, but Blue is coming with me.”
Ryder nods.
I wrap my hand around the flash drive. It feels like a secret burning in my pocket. I’m not sure if I can trust Ryder with this—not yet. For now, it’s mine to figure out.
Ryder turns away, calling the sheriff and barking more orders into his phone as he leads me out to his truck. Arthur’s secrets didn’t die with him. I’m going to track down the truth, no matter where it leads me.