Chapter 146

Aria

My heart hammered against my ribs as I replayed Bella’s father’s words in my head. The threat was clear: hand over Alfira, or face the consequences. Whatever those consequences were, we couldn’t be entirely sure. But they certainly weren’t going to be good.

A few minutes later, Darren and I called Alfira into the room to tell her what he had said. Her face went ashen as we shared the news.

“Maybe I should go,” she said softly.

Both Darren and I turned to her in shock.

“What?” I gasped.

“If I turn myself in—”

“Absolutely not,” Darren growled, cutting her off. “They’re just using you as a scapegoat. We won’t let one of our own be locked up for self defense.”

“But people are getting hurt because of me,” Alfira protested. “Humans and werewolves alike. If I just go back and face whatever they want to charge me with—”

“They’ll just make an example of you,” I said, holding up my hand to silence her. “Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong. We already sent the evidence to the chief, and he hasn’t even responded. I’m beginning to think that this was planned from the start.”

“Aria’s right,” Darren added with a nod. “You picked up the same strange scent that was deployed at the park, and it made your wolf aggressive enough to kill someone. Plus, you said the hiker seemed like he was on something—perhaps the same thing that caused the scent. This could just be a tactic to frame werewolves for crimes and create more fear.”

Alfira looked between us. “But what if they come here? They could hurt the pack.”

“Then that’s a risk we’ll all have to take,” Darren replied quickly. “You know as well as we do that not a single werewolf would willingly hand you over. They’d fight until the end for their own.”

“And the humans who came here seeking safety?” she asked. “What will happen to them if the pack lands are attacked by the human authorities?”

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted us. Bella peeked her head in. “I heard what my father said on the news,” she said, stepping into the room. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Darren assured her. I agreed with a curt nod.

“But it is my father, technically. And I know him. He doesn’t make empty threats.” She pulled up a chair next to Alfira. “So what's the plan? I’m still your emissary for the human world. What can I do to help?”

I glanced at Darren, our eyes meeting in silent communication. We didn’t have to say it out loud to know that there was really only one path forward that made sense right now.

“The documentary,” I said, nodding toward Alfira. “Can you finish it quickly?”

Alfira frowned. “Yes, but I’m not so sure if it’ll help now.”

“Add the footage from your encounter with the hiker,” I said firmly. “That will show the people what really happened, since the human authorities clearly have no intentions of honoring the truth. If you’re comfortable, of course.”

Alfira’s throat bobbed. She stared at her lap for a moment, considering, then nodded. “Yeah. I can add the footage.”

“You should interview the refugees, too,” Bella added.

Alfira nodded. “That’s a good idea.” With that, she stood, swaying slightly from her injuries but looking far better after a few days of rest and healing. “I’ll get started on that today. I can probably have a rough cut finished by the weekend.”

“Thank you, Alfira.”

She just shrugged. “It’s the least I can do, if you’re sticking your neck out for me like this.”

We spent the rest of the day gathering materials and outlining the new segments of the documentary. Bella spoke to the refugees, accepting a few volunteers who were interested in partaking in interviews. Darren and I helped Alfira collect some more footage of the village, mainly the temporary housing and medical centers for the humans.

Our dining room quickly transformed into a makeshift production studio, with laptops, cables, and notes scattered across every surface. I set up an interview space in the corner, using a spare sheet as a backdrop and positioning lamps to create decent lighting. Over the following days, we got to work filming.

Alfira was our first interview subject. She sat nervously in the chair, twisting her hands in her lap as I adjusted the camera.

“Just tell your story,” I encouraged her. “Start from the beginning. Tell us what really happened that night.”

She took a deep breath and began. Her words came haltingly at first, then with growing confidence as she recounted how she had been approached by the hiker, how he had chased her through the forest, and everything that happened afterwards.

When she was finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she seemed to feel better just telling her story out loud. I was proud of her for being brave enough to recount the horrible event. Personally, I wasn’t so sure if I would have been so brave.

Next, we interviewed the refugees. We started with a young mother who described how werewolves had helped her escape the riots with her infant son. Then, an elderly man recounted how a werewolf volunteer in the city had treated his injuries when the human hospital had turned him away for ‘associating with moon freaks.’

We even interviewed the woman with the little dog.

“Listen, I’m not thrilled that I had to move to a separate housing area just because of my dog,” she said, her arms folded tightly, “but I respect what Aria and Darren did. They handled the situation quickly and efficiently. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we’ve got, and it’s a whole hell of a lot better than the shit the human authorities are putting us through.”

As the day wore on, the exhaustion began to take its toll. My eyes burned from staring at the screen, and my back ached from hunching over the laptop. But every time I thought about taking a break, I remembered Bella’s father’s smug face on the news, and somehow the thought of proving that bastard wrong kept me going.

Late that evening, after dinner, as I was reviewing the footage from Alfira's interview, I noticed Bella suddenly stand up from where she had been working on sending emails and making calls to various werewolf sympathizers in the city across the room.

Her face went pale, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Excuse me,”she mumbled, before hurrying out of the room.

I frowned, saving my work before following her. I heard the bathroom door slam shut down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sounds of retching.

My concern growing, I knocked gently on the door. “Bells? Are you okay?”

The only response was more retching, followed by the flush of the toilet. I waited outside, worrying my lower lip between my teeth. After a few minutes, the door opened, and Bella emerged, her face ashen and a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“Sorry about that,” she said, attempting a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Must have been all those werewolf veggies I ate at dinner. My stomach is still adjusting.”

I studied her face, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, already edging past me toward the main room. “Really. Let’s get back to work. There’s still so much to do.”

“Bella—” I started, but she was already hurrying away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, confused and curious.