Chapter 176: Investigate
Chapter 176 of "Mated To The Crippled Alpha" begins revealing: Lewis really does live up to his reputation.Careful. Precise. Always three steps ahead.This time, he... Continue the adventure!
Lewis really does live up to his reputation.Careful. Precise. Always three steps ahead.
This time, he didnât just help me slip into the restricted zone he captured everything. Every corner. Every hidden angle. No one noticed a thing.
A direct inspection would have raised alarms. But the cameras? Silent. Watching. Recording. They mapped the entire place without a single pair of eyes turning our way.
"If we go through the footage slowly," Lewis said, calm as ever, "weâll find something."
I nodded, excitement buzzing under my skin.
I was still admiring the clever mechanism hidden inside his cufflinks when his gaze suddenly dropped to my hand.
His body stiffened.
"Where did that come from?" he asked.
I pulled my fingers back without thinking. "Itâs nothing. Just a scratch. A rose thorn."
It sounded small when I said it out loud. But against my pale skin, the red lines looked harsh. Ugly. Like proof Iâd been careless.
Lewis didnât argue.
He reached into the side compartment and pulled out a first-aid kit.
He cleaned the cut slowly, his touch steady but gentle. Not rushed. Not annoyed.
"Be careful next time," he said quietly. "Stay away from things that can hurt you."
"Okay," I whispered.
As he wrapped the bandage around my finger, I felt someone watching.
Julian.
He sat in the back seat, jaw tight, eyes dark. There was pain there but not for me. It was memory.
I knew exactly what he was thinking about.
That time I sliced my finger on paper while he was already halfway out the door. Rushing to meet Anna. Iâd been distracted, overwhelmed, flipping through documents too fast.
Heâd laughed.
"Seriously? Youâre an adult. How do you even manage to hurt yourself with paper?"
The cut hadnât hurt much.
His words did.
Now, in the same kind of moment, Lewis didnât mock me. Didnât blame me. Didnât make it my fault for being weak or careless.
He simply protected me.
The difference was loud.
On the drive back, Julian said nothing. He kept glancing at me, guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders. The silence between us stretched and tightened, like a bond already cracking.
Before we even got home, Lewis had sent the footage to the packâs technicians.
By the time we walked through the door, theyâd already drafted a full layout of the repair shop.
We spread the plans out and studied them closely.
"This pillar is wrong," Lewis said first.
I leaned in, tracing the shape with my eyes. Then it hit me.
"I know what this is."
He looked at me. "What?"
I grabbed a pen and paper. "Watch."
I connected the outer pillars one by one.
Eight sides.
My breath caught. "Itâs an octagon."
Eight pillars forming the outside. One pillar standing in the center.
Lewis zoomed in on the middle support.
One side was white.
The other was black.
Opposites.
Balance. Or conflict.
The space behind the shop had been left unfinished. Rough concrete. Dark lighting. The pillars were thick and tall anyone standing beneath them would never notice the pattern.
But from above?
The design was obvious.
"They didnât build this place randomly," Lewis said.
I swallowed. "No. They didnât."
I remembered the stranger Iâd seen there before. An outsider. Someone who didnât belong to any local pack.
Cold realization settled in my chest.
"What if this wasnât just a trap?" I murmured. "What if it was prepared... for me?"
Lewisâs expression hardened.
I circled a spot on the map.
"If this follows old pack beliefs," I said slowly, "the southwest point is the death gate. Endings. Sacrifice."
My finger trembled slightly as I marked it.
"That stone chamber," I whispered. "Thatâs where they wanted me."
And someone had planned it long before I ever arrived.
The entrance wouldnât be in the southeast.
That direction meant blockage. Hidden paths. Dead ends.
It wouldnât be in the east either. That side carried chaos injury, shock, unrest. Too messy. Too loud.
Which left only three options.
Northwest.
Northeast.
South.
I circled all three on the map with a red pen.
"The northwest is the open gate," I said slowly. "It means beginnings. The kind that invite things in. The northeast is the birth gate growth, revival. And the south is about exposure. Display."
My finger paused on the northwest mark.
"If I were hiding a way down," I said, "Iâd choose the northwest."
I kept scrolling through the site photos, my instincts humming low in my chest.
"The repair pits," I continued. "Theyâre sunk into the ground. Usually covered by cars. No one pays attention to them. If one was altered... it would be the perfect cover."
As the words left my mouth, the cursor hovered over a single bay.
Northwest corner.
My stomach tightened.
"There," I said quietly. "Thatâs it. Thatâs the entrance."
Julian stared at the screen like it had just spoken back to him.
"How do you know all this?" he asked.
I didnât look at him.
"Mr. Woernos," I said. "He respected old systems. Old rules. To earn his trust, I studied them. Late nights. Alone. I didnât need to master it just enough to speak his language."
Julian went quiet.
He never knew how much work I did behind closed doors. How often I bent myself to fit expectations. How much I carried so others could stand tall.
It wasnât that things had been easy.
I just never complained.
The silence grew heavy until Lewis stepped in.
"Weâve found the entrance," he said, voice steady. "Now we keep it quiet."
This wasnât a raid. Not yet.
"That place is their den," he continued. "We donât know how many are tied to it. Walking in blind would be reckless."
He turned to me. "No rush."
Then he nodded once, decisive. "Iâll have Damian go back. A few times. Acting normal. Fixing cars. Watching patterns."
"Okay," I said.
The plan made sense.
Still, unease crept into my bones.
"This isnât just about killing," I murmured. "Why me? Why go this far even after death?"
The octagon burned in my mind. Too deliberate. Too precise.
"It feels like they wanted more than silence," I said. "Like they wanted to use me."
The room felt colder.
At this point, logic alone wouldnât save us.
Lewisâs gaze sharpened. "If thatâs true... what else are they hiding?"
I swallowed. "I only saw one stone chamber. That means there are others."
Questions stacked on questions.
My chest tightened.
I pressed my lips together, then whispered the thought I hadnât dared say aloud.
"Was my return really just an accident?"
The words lingered.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
And somewhere deep inside me, something ancient stirred as if it already knew the truth