“He texted me earlier, saying he had information about your pack.”
Her smile lit up her eyes. “I’m so excited. I hope he found the boy from my dreams. I couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day, other than the blinding orgasm you just gave me.”
I laughed and took her hand. “Touché.”
We headed toward my office. The anticipation built with each step, and yet, a part of me dreaded what we might discover. Itwas almost like ripping a Band-Aid off. It hurt, but the wound might be healed. On the flip side, it might be fucking infected.
When we entered the office, still hand in hand, we found Isaiah sitting opposite my desk, his gaze intent on the folder in his hands. When he looked up to greet us, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air grew thick with tension.
Liza and I sat, and I braced myself.
“Ty, Liza,” Isaiah acknowledged, his voice somber before he slid the folder across the table. “I’ve found some information about the pack members you were looking for, but it wasn’t easy.”
Liza and I exchanged a glance, our emotions mingling between excitement and unease.
“What do you mean, exactly?” Liza bit her bottom lip anxiously. “Are they still alive?”
“Finding them was difficult because the parents of the children who left the pack clearly didn’t want to be found.” Isaiah’s dark eyes filled with concern. “They had cut off all ties and left no trace of themselves.”
I frowned, trying to make sense of the information.
Liza’s grip tightened on my hand, her nails digging into my skin. “That’s strange. They left because of Castro, didn’t they?”
“That’s my understanding, yes.” Isaiah nodded and cocked his head to the side, no doubt wondering where Liza’s train of thought was headed.
Liza shifted in her seat. “Do you think it’s possible that the parents of these kids somehow knew back then that Castro would turn out to be as dangerous as he is now?”
I tried to imagine a child who was so fucking evil that multiple families in the pack wanted to be as far away from him as possible before he became an adult.
“I’m not sure what their motives were, but I can say for certain that the families cut off all ties with the Wylde pack when they left. There were no records of contact except one.”
Liza raised an eyebrow. “Would you mind if I took a look at the file?”
“Of course.” Isaiah handed her the folder, giving me a quick look that I couldn’t quite interpret.
As Liza flipped through the pages, I kept my attention on her expression, trying to gauge her reaction. She shook her head slowly, her lips pursed. “None of them seem familiar,” she said. “Their hair is wrong.”
“Wrong, how?” My curiosity was piqued. How was it possible to know for certain that none of the adults in the photos were the boy from her dream?
“Even though I don’t remember the boy’s face clearly, his hair was as white as mine.” Liza lifted a strand of her platinum hair for emphasis.
“Maybe they dyed their hair over the years.” That explanation seemed logical to me, but Liza continued to shake her head.
“That’s not all.” Her hands gripped the folder tightly. “It’s my gut telling me that none of these people are the boy from my dream.” Her words hung heavily in the air, laden with frustration and disappointment.
“Trust your instincts,” I said softly. “You’ve always had a strong connection to your gut.”
Liza handed the folder back to Isaiah and stared straight ahead, lost in thought. Deep lines marred her forehead, and I could feel her worry about finding the mysterious child she had a strange connection to. It was odd for someone to try and find a person from their dreams, but not for Liza. She’d proven more than once that her dreams were fueled by her powers, and, likeeverything about them, we didn’t understand, but they served as a guide in her waking hours.
Finally, she spoke up, her voice tinged with hope. “Hopefully, the people Isaiah tracked down might know who the boy from my dream was.”
The early morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow on Isaiah, who placed another folder on my desk. “There was only one record of contact between the pack members who left and Liza’s old pack.” He flipped through the folders until he came to a specific photo. He pointed at a woman, her features similar to Liza’s. “Her name is Isabel Russell.”
That last name gave me pause. It had to be a coincidence, because given the vastness of the world, what were the chances that Liza was associated with a company doing business with Keller Enterprises?
“According to my research, Liza’s parents were the only record I found in relation to Isabel Russell.” He held out a piece of paper, the ink stark against the white background. “This is a money wire transaction from Liza’s father to Isabel’s father for a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Liza and I gaped at the receipt.
