2026-02-04 18:55:10“If you step outside now, Harry,” Arthur’s voice was stifled by heavy breathing, “you might never come back.”
Harry stopped at the warehouse threshold, but he didn't turn around.
“I haven’t been back in too long,” he replied softly.
He walked away, leaving the foul-smelling warehouse without looking at Arthur’s face once. He knew Arthur worried. He knew this decision was selfish and dangerous. But the truth about the Aubrey Family, about the Black Hand, and about Marcus called to him more strongly than any safety the hiding place could offer.
He couldn't stay silent anymore.
For a whole day, Harry disappeared into the city shadows. He moved without visible purpose, but his senses were fully engaged. He listened to the whispers of dock workers, fragments of conversation in cheap pubs, the complaints of old people who still remembered the city’s past. Information about the “old Aubrey family residence” was never spoken out loud. The name still carried fear.
As dusk fell, Harry finally arrived in a neighborhood different from the world he knew.
The streets here were wide and clean, lined with old trees. Large houses stood in rows, some appeared well-kept, while others were abandoned like husks of the past. The air was quiet, too quiet. The silence wasn't calming; it was oppressive.
Harry stood in front of an old Victorian-style mansion. The building was large and magnificent, but the paint was peeling, the iron gates were rusty, and the grass in the yard grew wild, reaching knee height. This was the Aubrey house.
The place where he was once a baby. The place where his life should have begun.
He swallowed. His wolf instincts wanted to sniff, wanted to recognize this place as his territory. But all that remained was the smell of dust, rotting wood, and old sadness.
Harry moved along the side of the house. He looked for signs of life, anyone who still remembered this family. Near the kitchen, he saw fresh footprints. A pair of low-heeled women’s shoes. They led to a small door that looked more maintained than the rest of the house.
Harry approached. The door was closed tightly, but unlocked.
He knocked. Gently. Three times.
Silence.
He knocked again. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Mrs. Gable.”
A few seconds passed before an old lock clicked. The door opened slightly. An old woman peered out from behind it, slender body, neat white hair, and an old-fashioned house dress. Her eyes were tired, full of wariness.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Harry,” he answered carefully. “I… I came for Mr. Aubrey.”
The woman froze. Her hands trembled on the doorknob. Her gaze dropped to Harry's neck.
“That’s…” she whispered. “The family pendant.”
“It belongs to me,” Harry said firmly. “I found it in the ruins.”
The door opened wider.
“Come in,” the woman said quickly. “Now.”
As soon as Harry stepped inside, the door was shut and locked three times. The woman leaned against the door, holding her breath.
“I am Mrs. Gable,” she said. “The Aubrey family’s head housekeeper.”
“I was raised in the forest,” Harry said without pleasantries. “I want to know about that night. About my father.”
Mrs. Gable led him to a small study, far from the windows. Harry sat stiffly on the velvet chair. He took out his necklace.
“That’s a family heirloom,” Mrs. Gable whispered. “Mr. Aubrey said it would protect his descendants.”
“Why are the port people looking for me?” Harry asked. “They mentioned Victor Thorne.”
Mrs. Gable’s face paled. She looked around the room frantically.
“Mr. Aubrey… wasn’t as clean as you imagine,” she said softly. “He was involved in night business. But he wanted out. For your sake.”
“What business?” Harry urged.
“I don’t know the details,” she burst into tears. “But I heard him say… he would hand over ‘the key,’ but he wouldn't hand over his son.”
Harry tensed.
“The car wasn't an accident,” Mrs. Gable continued. “It was murder.”
Harry stood up. The world felt sharper.
“Is there a secret place?” he asked. “A place where my father used to speak honestly?”
Mrs. Gable nodded slowly. “The Silver Fox. A small bar in the Old District.”
Harry noted down the address. As he was about to leave, Mrs. Gable held his arm.
“Be careful,” she said. “If Thorne knows you’re alive…”
Harry looked at her, his eyes dark and steady.
“Let him know.”
He stepped out into the city night. Streetlights turned on one by one. The small piece of paper in his hand felt heavy.
“The Silver Fox,” he muttered.
In the distance, someone picked up the phone.
“He’s moving,” the voice said quietly.
“To the Old District.”
Harry walked away from the Aubrey house area without looking back again. The streets began to fill with yellow lamplight, and tree shadows stretched out like fingers trying to pull him back. But his steps were not slow. The bar’s name repeated in his head, ringing like a warning bell.
The Silver Fox.
He walked along the sidewalk toward the Old District. The neighborhood changed slowly. Buildings grew closer together, darker, and the smell of sea mixed with cheap alcohol began to fill the air. A place like this didn't like strangers. And Harry knew he wasn't just a stranger now,he was prey walking openly.
At a street corner, Harry stopped suddenly.
His wolf instinct trembled.
Someone was behind him. Not hiding. Not rushing. Just following.
Harry didn't turn around. His hands slowly clenched into fists, his body tensed, ready to move if necessary.
The footsteps approached, then stopped just a few meters behind him.
“You’re too careless for someone who wants to survive,” a man’s voice sounded calm, almost relaxed.
Harry finally turned around.
The figure stood under the streetlight, his face half-covered in shadow. His suit was neat. His shoes were clean. Not a thug.
“Who are you?” Harry asked coldly.
The man smiled thinly. “Someone sent to make sure you really exist.”
The man's gaze dropped, stopping at Harry's chest, right behind the fabric of his shirt.
“And now,” he continued softly, “I want to know…”
He stepped one step closer.
“Are you going to hand over the
necklace willingly… or should we make the Old District remember the Aubrey name again?”
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Chapter 63
"Arthur..." Clara whispered, her voice choked. She looked at Harry, then toward the unfamiliar streets beneath the same overcast sky. A hollow, piercing sensation took hold of Harry’s chest. They had managed to escape the explosion; they had managed to avoid the danger. But at the cost of Arthur. M.V.'s betrayal felt like a crushing blow, exacerbated by the reality that they were trapped here, separated from Arthur, and that The Veil had seemingly vanished after dropping them off."We have to go back," Harry said, his voice cold. A lupine tone began to creep into every word. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the distant city skyline, where strange flashes of light were visible again. That familiar yet alien wave of energy could be felt once more, a sign that a new threat was not only lurking, but spreading. "We are going back for him.""But the portal is closed, Harry," Clara said, her eyes radiating a mix of desperation and resolve. She gripped her tablet tightly, as if it were her o
Chapter 62
Harry felt the cold forest air creeping across his skin, the remnants of a battle that had only just ended. His body still screamed with exhaustion, yet beneath it, a new strength flowed through him. The obsidian artifact, now calm in his hand, felt lighter, more attuned to him. The rite had succeeded. He had endured the artifact’s wildest power, and in doing so, he had mastered the part of himself that had long been in turmoil.Alpha stepped closer, brushing his nose against Harry’s arm in a gesture of sincere respect. “You have proven yourself, Guardian,” his voice echoed in Harry’s mind, filled with newfound reverence. “You are part of this balance.”Clara smiled with relief, dusting off her sleeve. “You were incredible, Harry. Truly incredible.” Arthur, though visibly tired, smiled with pride. “You did your best, son. The balance has been restored.”Yet the peace felt fragile. Silas’s promise, the leader of the Crystal Order who had escaped, rang in Harry’s ears. “We will return.
Chapter 61
Another group of wolves emerged from behind the trees, low growls rumbling in their throats. Their gazes were cold, laced with doubt. Harry felt their sharp eyes piercing through him, judging. The Alpha beside him remained calm, but his voice echoed in Harry's mind, "They do not approve. They deem you unworthy. You must prove yourself, Guardian."Harry tightened his jaw. Proving himself. He had been doing that his entire life. Every step of his journey had been an act of validation. He looked at the Alpha, then shifted his gaze to Clara and Arthur standing behind him, their faces tense. Worry was etched clearly upon them, but so was an unwavering trust. That was enough for him."I will prove it," Harry said, his voice steady—not just for the Alpha and the doubting pack, but for himself. He pulled the obsidian artifact from his bag. The object's coldness now felt familiar, like a part of his own self he had just discovered. The energy from the circle of sacred stone
Chapter 60
The morning air bit at his skin, but it wasn't the cold that made Harry shiver. It was a subtle sensation, like a strand of cold silk brushing against his back, a sign he knew all too well. They knew. Arthur's words about the guardian's rite and Anya's whispers from The Veil about destiny finding its way swirled in his mind. Today, they were heading to the ancient forest, the place Arthur believed held the key to pacifying the artifact, and Harry knew they wouldn't be alone there."Are we ready, Harry?" Clara's voice sounded tense. She carried a backpack that looked stuffed to the brim, a tablet in her hand displaying a digital map. A worried crease sat between her brows, a shadow of exhaustion from sleepless nights spent tracking the movements of the Crystal Order on her laptop."As ready as we'll ever be," Harry replied, exhaling. He checked the contents of his bag, ensuring the artifact was secure in the special pouch Arthur had fashioned. The cold of the obsidian bled through the
Chapter 59
Harry could still feel the coldness of Anya's gaze, the echo of her threats lingering in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to cast off the creeping sense of unease, but could only feel the burden of his inheritance growing heavier. "She's right," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "We need answers. And we need them now."Arthur pointed to the notebook open before him. "I found something else. These notes mention the 'Rite of the Guardian.' It sounds like something that could contain or control the power of this artifact."Clara leaned in, trying to decipher Arthur's intricate handwriting. "A rite? You mean some kind of ancient ritual?""Yes," Arthur replied, his voice trembling slightly with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. "But not just any ritual. There are vague hints about a specific location, a place with strong natural energy, and several rare elements that must be gathered." He sighed. "Unfortunately, the description of the location is very cryptic. It only
Chapter 58
Harry coughed, the lingering traces of cold mist still bitter in his throat. His muscles screamed in exhaustion; every movement felt heavy. The transformation had drained him down to his bones. Clara supported his arm, her worried gaze never leaving him. Arthur watched the recently closed door with a tense expression. The man from the Crystal Order was gone, but the ghost of his presence still hung in the air, like the shadow of a deferred death."Harry, you need to rest," Clara sighed, helping him into the nearest chair.Harry shook his head slowly. Sleepiness tugged at him, but his instincts refused. Not now. He felt something. A cold sensation crept over his skin, as if eyes were watching him—piercing the walls, reaching into the depths of his soul. He knew this feeling. It was the same scrutiny he had felt at the clinic when he first realized the existence of The Veil."They're watching," Harry whispered, his voice raspy. His eyes narrowed, staring at an empty spot on the wall whe
