Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Apex leaned forward. “I’ll start tracing the financial aspect further back. Magnus didn’t just start buying this shit recently. We’ll find patterns.”
After the meeting, the brothers dispersed, each moving to handle their specific tasks. Delaney stood slowly, and I placed a careful hand on her lower back, guiding her gently out of the office. As we headed back toward my room, she moved closer to my side, visibly relieved that we’d finished for now.
“You did damn good in there,” I murmured, letting my voice drop low enough to brush intimately against her ear.
Her cheeks flushed softly, and she smiled. “Thanks.”
My pulse quickened at the quiet strength in her expression. She was brave as fuck, strong and resilient in a way that stirred something deep inside me. Magnus Kinghorn might’ve thought he’d broken her, but he was fucking wrong.
She wasn’t just surviving—she was stronger now than she’d been before.
Over the next two days, my tension steadily increased as I began noticing small details around the compound. The security at our clubhouse was rock solid, with cameras covering nearly every angle and brothers frequently patrolling the perimeter. Despite that, I found subtle signs someone had been watching us.
I spotted an unfamiliar vehicle parked a little too long at the end of the compound’s private access road. By the time I got close enough to check the plates, it vanished smoothly into traffic. Near one of our observation points, I discovered disturbed brush—broken twigs and scuffed earth—signs someone had lingered and observed, hidden from our cameras and eyes.
Whoever it was, they’d been cautious, never approaching too closely or stepping into clear view, but their presence was unmistakable. I was sure it was Magnus.
I wasn't particularly worried about him strolling straight through our gates like an idiot with a death wish, but the subtlety and caution he displayed gave me new clarity. Magnus wasn’t reckless or raging. He wasn’t driven by impulses he couldn’t control. He was patient and methodical. Carefully evaluating his obstacles, watching, and recalculating his plans before acting.
It didn’t take long for my thoughts to move deeper. This wasn’t just some obsessed academic predator working a single victim. It felt more calculated and practiced—like the work of an organized serial offender.
Magnus wasn’t simply fixated on Delaney alone; he was repeating a cycle he’d done before, possibly multiple times. The precision of Delaney’s staged abduction, the carefully placed symbolism, the ritualized details—these weren’t the hallmarks of someone stumbling into crime. They belonged to someone dangerously practiced.
I met with Jax and Apex to lay out everything I’d observed.
“This changes things,” I explained, leaning forward as we sat around the heavy oak table in the office. “We already guessed this wasn’t just an isolated incident. That he’s most likely done this before. But there’s more to it.”
Jax’s eyes were thoughtful behind his black-rimmed glasses. “You thinking serial?”
I nodded. “Definitely. His patterns and rituals speak volumes. But here’s the thing. Serial offenders have cooling-off periods. Time between incidents, intervals where they reset and plan.”
Apex leaned forward, a thoughtful frown deepening his expression. “You want us to look for patterns that include a possible hiatus or pause in his activities. Focus on anything that looks repetitive. Financials tied to similar preservation activities, travel history, and funding that lines up with a cyclical pattern.” He looked up at me with a raised brow. “You said serial offenders tend to have a predictable rhythm, yeah?”
“Typically.”
Apex tapped a finger on my desk as he concluded, “He’d leave a digital footprint that matches it.”
Jax nodded. “I’ll dig into Magnus’s background again—any disappearances, missing persons reports, and unsolved cases around his previous locations. If there’s a history, I’ll find it.”
Two days of intensive digging finally produced some results—though we couldn’t tie him to any murders or even disappearances yet. Jax narrowed down a specific historical preservation site about fifteen miles outside town. It was isolated, historical, quiet, and linked directly to Magnus’s previous restoration projects. More importantly, it matched Delaney’s description of an old church.
We moved quickly, pulling together a small team consisting of Nitro, Century, Shifter, and Gauge. I rode out with my brothers toward the location Jax had pinpointed, tension coiling steadily tighter beneath my skin.
When we reached the site, the area was deserted. Overgrown trees and thick brush surrounded the abandoned church, the silence heavy and oppressive. Inside, we found evidence of recent cleanup attempts, where someone clearly worked hastily to erase any traces of incriminating evidence. But it was rushed, leaving plenty for us to find.
Scuffed wooden floors, fragments of rope fibers, traces of dried blood, and discarded herbs, matching what Delaney described, were scattered in the shadows. The remnants matched her details precisely, confirming the accuracy of her memory despite her drugged and terrified state. Shifter carefully photographed every piece of evidence, capturing it all so Delaney could review later. She’d likely notice things we might miss, given her historical knowledge.