Chapter 134: SEARCH FOR CLIPS.
CALLUM’S POV
I pulled into Rowan’s workshop just as the morning crowd began to thin. The place looked exactly as it always had— the metal shelves were stacked with old hard drives, dismantled security systems spread across wooden benches, and half a dozen monitors displaying flickering camera feeds.
The familiar smell of earth and machine oil lingered in the air, bringing back memories of the countless times I’d dragged Rowan into impossible situations only for him to somehow solve them.
The bell above the entrance rang softly as I stepped inside.
Rowan looked up from the computer he had been working on, and the screwdriver slipped right out of his hand. "Alpha?"
A look of disbelief crossed his face before it quickly turned into concern. He hurried around the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth as though embarrassed that he’d kept me waiting for even a second. "You should’ve called ahead. I would’ve come to the estate myself — you didn’t need to trouble yourself coming all this way."
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "You make it sound like I climbed a mountain to get here."
"Forgive me. I only meant—" He stopped himself, straightening like he’d caught his own tone before it went too far. "It’s no trouble at all, having you here. I just wish I’d known."
"Rowan. I drove for fifteen minutes and got out of a car. Relax."
His shoulders eased, though not all the way. "Old habit. It’s hard to see you standing in my shop and not think I should be the one on my feet fetching things, not you."
"You worry too much."
"With respect, Alpha, I think that’s the correct amount of worry."
I laughed quietly, shaking my head. The easy exchange erased some of the formality, though never all of it. We’d known each other long before I became Alpha, where we were very casual with each other. Some things never changed, but some things had, and Rowan never let himself forget which was which.
He cleared a stool near the counter, dusting it off before he even gestured to it. "Please. Sit, if you’d like."
"I won’t be staying that long."
"Of course. Whatever’s easiest for you." He hovered a moment longer than necessary before returning to his side of the desk, as though leaving my presence entirely felt like an overstep too.
I reached into my coat and placed the storage drive on his desk instead.. "I need this recovered."
His expression shifted at once, all traces of nervousness gone, replaced by something focused. He picked the drive up like it might be evidence in a trial and he had to remain absolutely careful with it. "Corrupted?"
"Deliberately, can’t find a particular clip."
"I see." He turned it over between his fingers before plugging it into one of his systems, his jaw tightening slightly. "May I ask where it’s from?"
"The annex cameras. Keisha’s side of the estate."
His eyes flicked up to mine briefly long enough to register what that meant, before he dropped them back to the screen without another word. Lines of code immediately began filling the monitor while he silently inspected the files. His fingers moved fast, but carefully.
For a second, he tapped a few stuff and frowned. Then spent the next five minutes tapping other things before he leaned back and hummed. "The footage isn’t gone."
I folded my arms. "It’s hidden?"
"No." He enlarged several sections of the timeline before pointing at a narrow gap. "Someone removed a section cleanly and rewrote the file structure afterward. Whoever did this knew enough to make it look like nothing was missing."
"Can you restore it?"
He didn’t smile this time. "I’ll do everything I can, Alpha. You have my word."
"How long will it take?"
"As long as it needs to. I won’t rush this and hand you something half-right." A short pause followed and he gave me a look. "If — if that’s acceptable."
"It’s acceptable."
He exhaled, some tension leaving his frame at my answer, and turned back to the screen. "I’ll need you to bear with me. Some of this will be slow going."
"I’m not in a hurry."
"You say that," he murmured, mostly to himself, "but I know you are."
I said nothing, because he wasn’t wrong. I did want to see this as soon as possible.
The next few hours passed in near silence and I remained in the workshop while Rowan worked, occasionally asking him questions that he answered without taking his eyes off the screen, always careful to explain rather than assume I already understood and never once making me feel foolish for asking twice.
"You don’t have to stay," he offered once, not looking up. "I can bring it to the estate the moment it’s done."
"I’d rather see it as it comes."
"Understood." He didn’t argue further.
Watching him was almost fascinating. The windows opened and disappeared faster than I could follow as damaged sectors were reconstructed piece by piece, and missing fragments gradually reappeared until the timeline was finally complete. Every so often his brow furrowed at something on the screen, and each time, he caught himself before whatever thought had crossed his mind slipped out, glancing at me as if to gauge whether I wanted to hear it yet.
"Say it," I told him the third time it happened.
"It’s only a guess. I’d rather not put something in your head that isn’t confirmed."
"Rowan. Say it."
He hesitated, then relented. "Whoever cut this footage knew the system well. I wouldn’t say it’s a stranger’s work. That’s all I’ll say until I have the whole picture."
I simply nodded and didn’t push further.
Rowan stretched his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. "There." He clicked one final key. "I’ve recovered everything that was recoverable."
My attention immediately fixed on the monitor as the footage resumed from the exact moment it had originally been cut which was the evening of the annex.
The pathway outside Keisha’s residence remained quiet for several minutes before a figure dressed entirely in black entered the frame. Their face was concealed beneath a hood, their movements slow. They carried a covered tray balanced neatly in both hands, walking with confidence.
The person stopped outside Keisha’s annex and the door opened. I watched the meal change hands and Keisha accepted it without hesitation.
My jaw tightened. She’d trusted the food because it had looked like every other meal delivered from the estate kitchens.
Beside me, Rowan went very still, watching my face rather than the screen now, as though bracing for whatever came next from me rather than the footage.
I continued watching as the hooded figure disappeared from the annex and took an unexpected route instead of returning toward the main kitchen. They crossed the gardens, slipped behind an abandoned warehouse that hadn’t been used in years, glanced around once to make sure no one was watching, then crouched beside a broken section of wall and a black polythene bag was tossed into the weeds.
The figure left immediately afterward and the recording ended.
For several seconds, neither Rowan nor I spoke.
"Alpha," he said finally, quiet, careful, "whatever you need from me — anything — it’s yours. I mean that."
Finally, I reached for the drive. "I’ve seen enough."
He didn’t ask what I intended to do. He only rose to walk me out, a full step behind, the way he always did when he sensed I wasn’t in the mood for any other conversation.
I needed to visit that warehouse.
The abandoned warehouse was exactly where it had been for years, isolated behind rows of overgrown shrubs that few people ever bothered to pass. Dust coated the cracked windows, and vines had almost swallowed one side of the building. It looked untouched by time, which was precisely why it had made the perfect hiding place.
I replayed the footage in my mind as I walked around the back.
There. Beneath the weeds, half buried beneath months of dirt, the black polythene bag was still there.
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
Whoever had orchestrated this had been careful enough to erase security footage, yet careless enough to believe no one would ever recover it.
One of my guards stepped forward at my instruction, pulling on protective gloves before carefully opening the bag.
Inside lay a used syringe, several small nylon packets stained with the residue of different injectable compounds, and a knife whose blade had long since dried.
Interesting.
I crouched beside the bag, studying every item before my eyes settled on the knife. Near the handle, almost hidden beneath layers of dust, rested the faintest trace of dried blood.
Even better.
A slow smile spread across my face as the final piece of the puzzle slid neatly into place.
"Don’t touch anything else," I said, rising to my feet. "Package every single item exactly as it is."
The guard nodded immediately and I looked down at the knife one last time.
We had been chasing a ghost for so long. Now, the person responsible had unknowingly left a part of themselves behind.
And that single drop of blood was going to lead me straight to them.