Patches and Clues

WILLOW

It was three a.m., and the pack house throbbed with the tension of a war bunker.

Every light was on. Every member was awake. Every ear twitched toward the slightest sound. The scent of blood, sweat, adrenaline, and half-buried fear wove through the air, thick and unshakable.

But while the kitchen churned out cups of cocoa to wide-eyed pups and coffee to their tired parents, Connor’s inner circle was meeting in his office.

Ben, Travis, Lisa, Josh, and Carl were all seated around a long table while Connor stood at its head like a battlefield commander. I leaned against the far back wall, not quite in the inner circle, though not quite out of it either.

“Explain to me,” Connor began, his voice cutting through the tension, “how more than ten armed humans made it past our border patrols, through the woods, and into the fucking pack house.” His tone wasn’t angry—it was lethal.

Travis, with his arms crossed and jaw set tight, didn’t flinch. “I’ve got someone questioning the patrol team now, but it’s looking like they simply ~appeared~ inside the perimeter. So far, we’ve detected no tracks or scent trails.

“It’s like they knew exactly where our blind spots were.” His gaze wandered to me before returning to Connor. “Like they had our entire layout memorized.”

Connor’s eyes flicked toward me. “Willow, are these the same men that held you?”

“Yes.” I stood straighter. “Their uniforms are the same as the ones my instructors wore. I remember now.”

Lisa turned toward me, her brows knitted in thought. “Right, so you ~were~ raised by soldiers. It wasn’t just doctors.”

I nodded. “I think the facility was run by both soldiers and doctors—or scientists. They seemed to be working together. In the same place with the same commands.”

“Willow,” Connor said, his voice becoming gentle, “if you’re up for it, can you please tell us everything you know about that place? From the beginning?”

All eyes fell on me, and I was glad to be able to finally help, to do something useful. I spent the next fifteen minutes walking them through my whole life, from training and schooling to shifting, then imprisonment, experimentation, escape, and capture.

They peppered me with questions along the way, and I answered as best I could. But my responses quickly grew thinner, more vague each time. By the end, I realized I hadn’t given them anything to work with—because of how little I actually knew.

Silence filled the room, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that they thought I was as useless as I felt.

“Real helpful.” Travis scoffed. “Doesn’t know who they were, what they wanted, where they held her, or how to get back.” His voice was flat, biting. “Fucking useless.”

Before I could consider defending myself, Connor moved. It was one clean motion: a fist and a crack.

Travis hit the floor with a grunt, clutching his jaw.

Connor radiated his alpha aura. “With the kind of security breaches we’ve had lately,” he said coolly, “I’d be real careful accusing other people of being useless. Especially if you’re the one ~in charge~ of security.”

Travis stared at the floor in total submission as he said, “I’m sorry, Alpha. You’re right, Alpha.”

Connor turned to Josh, who’d been silently tapping away at a laptop. “You got anything on that patch?”

Josh looked up, his eyes bleary but bright with focus. “No hits on the exact one. But I found variants.” He spun the laptop around for us to see.

A row of sigils filled the screen, each centered on a bridge design with different symbols beneath the arches: a stylized assault rifle, a trio of dripping dollar signs, and a DNA helix. That last one tugged at my memory.

“They’re all linked to different corporations,” Josh said. “Military and biotech, but I can’t find much about them. I’m looking for a money trail, but it’s messy. Clearly dodgy.” He leaned forward, his features electric with purpose. “I’ll keep digging until I find the pattern.”

Connor nodded. “Good. Keep going.” He glanced at me again. “Willow, is there anything else? Anything you can think of that might help us find this place? Landmarks? Smells? Sounds? Anything?”

I closed my eyes and scanned my memories.

~Darkness. Glass walls. Fluorescent lights. Reinforced doors that only open with electronic locks. A hospital room. My room.~

~Nurse Amy.~

~A bloom of blood spreading over her chest in the pale moonlight—sudden, terrible, final. The determination in her eyes.~

My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to stay there in that memory. To feel it, even when it burned, and relive it with neutral eyes.

~She comes to me in the night. She convinces me to go, to run with her. She believes there’s something better out there for me. We run, then shots ring out. Gunfire surrounds us, and we run faster.~

~Nurse Amy stops, falls to the ground. She tells me to go, to leave her, and as she lies there dying on the ground, she shoves something into my pocket.~

My eyes snapped open. “Do you still have the clothes you found me in?” The words came out in a rush of excitement.

Connor blinked. “What?”

“The ones I was wearing! When you found me! Do you still have them?”

Travis got to his feet. “Yeah. We haven’t thrown them out. They’re in prison storage. In a sealed bag.”

“I need to see them, right now!”

CONNOR

The storage room carried the scent of metal and bleach.

Travis led the way to the shelving units, where several sealed bags were labeled and sorted.

Once he found Willow’s belongings, I grabbed the bag from him, sliced it open, and dumped its contents onto the steel table in the center of the room.

Willow moved fast. Her fingers went through the clothing in almost clinical motions. She held up the bloodstained shirt, the remains of a hospital bracelet, and the shredded pants. She patted the pockets methodically.

“What are you looking for?” I finally asked.

“The nurse who helped me escape, Amy, she gave me a hard drive. It was the size of my palm. Fairly weighty. She slipped it into my pocket just before she died. Said I’d need it.” She clicked her tongue. “Shit. It’s not here. It must’ve fallen out. Maybe in the truck.”

She looked at the pile with desperate eyes, as if sheer force of will could make it appear.

My gaze dropped to the sweatshirt crumpled on the table. It seemed old—faded black with an insignia of a stylized hawk head on the left breast. Across the back, Colville Crimson Hawks was printed in a warped font.

I picked it up. “This yours?”

Willow looked over and shook her head. “No. It belonged to the truck driver. She lent it to me.”

The air between us instantly snapped into something electric. Her eyes met mine as we both seemed to see it at the same time. We didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Instead, we smiled, wide, real, and unguarded.

For the first time in weeks, there was hope.

Spinning toward Josh, I held out the sweatshirt. “Can you do something with this?”

He stepped forward, took it from my hands, and studied it. His eyes lit up. “I sure can.” He mirrored our broad grins. “This, ladies and gents, gives us a starting point.”

“Well then, let’s get to work.”