Chapter 175

Ava

I stood beside Chris, both of us leaning over Dedrick’s lifeless body in the morgue. The harsh fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow over his pale skin, making him look even more ghostly than he already was. The sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with the underlying scent of death, making my stomach churn.

“From what I’ve gathered from the autopsy,” the medical examiner said, glancing at his clipboard, “he took a lethal dose of moonbite powder in pill form.”

I turned to look at Chris with my brow furrowed. “You think he took it himself?” I asked.

“Likely. Or perhaps someone gave it to him,” Chris replied in a low voice. “Either way, it seems like he was determined not to give away any information.”

My mind swirled as I went over the implications in my head. When we had caught Dedrick, he had told us that Olivia hired him to work with her, his reward being that he could become Alpha of Moonstone once she was finished with… whatever she had planned.

But death simply to avoid giving away information seemed like such a drastic action in that case. Knowing Dedrick, he could have easily told us everything in exchange for immunity and he would have been fine.

So why jump to suicide?

“I feel like there’s more to this than we thought,” I whispered to Chris as the medical examiner left to give us some space.

Chris ran a hand through his hair with frustration. “It’s starting to look that way, isn’t it?” he muttered. “But without Dedrick to question, we’re back to square one.”

I sighed as I stared down at Dedrick’s body, most of which was covered by a clean white sheet. His face, now slack and empty, seemed to stare back up at me despite his eyes being closed.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. He still hadn’t slept, and honestly, I didn’t even know how he was staying upright just then. “All we know is that Olivia may have gone to the human world, which means that we’ll have to expand our search.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the morgue’s refrigeration units seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness. Both of us were too exhausted to speak.

I, too, had hardly slept; Ophelia and I had spent most of the night in the refugee camp, trying to keep the children calm while also rallying the adults to form minor neighborhood watch parties to keep vigil around town.

Finally, Chris straightened up. “Come on,” he said, gently taking my arm. “There’s nothing more we can do here except cremate the bastard. We need to check on the blight situation.”

I nodded and followed him out of the morgue, leaning on him slightly as we walked. Even now, with the stress of everything going on, his hand slipped along my lower back and gave me a reassuring squeeze that bolstered me a bit. I was glad to have him by my side, and it was clear that he felt the same.

The cool morning air outside was a welcome relief after the sterile chill of the morgue. As we walked to the Packhouse, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in my stomach. With Dedrick dead and Olivia missing once again, our options were dwindling fast.

“What are you thinking?” I asked Chris, breaking the silence as we walked.

He sighed, his fingers tightening around my waist. “Right now? I’m thinking we need a miracle,” he admitted with a wry chuckle. “Or at least a really good plan.”

When we arrived at the Packhouse, we were met by the lead scientist, as usual. His usually neat appearance was disheveled, and dark circles under his eyes spoke of a long, sleepless night all of his own.

“Alpha, Luna,” he greeted us. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” He handed us each a hazmat suit. “You’ll need to put these on before entering the quarantine zone.”

As we suited up, I caught Chris’s eye. The worry I saw there mirrored my own. “How bad is it?” I asked the lead scientist as I zipped up my suit. “Any improvement?”

The scientist hesitated before answering. “I’ll tell you the truth, Luna. It’s... not good. You’ll see for yourself.”

Once we were fully protected, the scientist led us around the side of the Packhouse and through the gate that led to the gardens. The sight that greeted us was worse than I had imagined, and I felt my stomach twist immediately.

Before, the fungus had been sporadic, eating up the occasional plant or coiling around the pebbled pathways. But now, thick black ooze covered large swaths of the gardens. In some areas, it seemed to be climbing up the stone foundation of the Packhouse.

“As you can see,” the scientist said, his voice muffled by his suit as we walked around the quarantine zone, “the situation has deteriorated significantly since our last assessment.”

Chris nodded, his eyes scanning the team of other scientists in hazmat suits who were using large apparatuses to spray moongrass juice on various sections of earth. “Where have you deployed the GMO?”

The lead scientist pointed to several areas where a greenish, almost mossy substance was visible on the ground. “We’ve applied it here, here, and here. But…”

“But what?” I asked, immediately regretting that question.

The scientist shot me a wary glance through the plastic screen of his mask. “It’s not working as quickly as we had hoped,” he admitted. “The black fungus seems to be growing faster than the GMO can eat it, and new catalysts keep popping up. We’re losing ground every day.”

I felt my heart sink. “Is there anything else we can do?”

The scientist shook his head. “We’re working on developing a stronger strain of the GMO, but it takes time. Time we may not have.”

As we continued our tour, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. “Chris,” I said, pointing to a spot on the side of the Packhouse. “Look.”

Chris followed my gaze, and I saw his eyes widen behind his protective mask. The black fungus was seeping through a crack in the wood, slowly but surely making its way inside the walls of the Packhouse.

“It’s just like what happened with the factory in the forest,” I whispered, remembering the devastation we had seen there—the way that the fungus had consumed not only the plants and the land, but also the very structure itself.

And soon, it had consumed the people who worked there.

Chris turned to the scientist. “How long before it compromises the structural integrity of the building?” he asked.

The scientist hesitated, his face drawn and tired. “It’s hard to say for certain. The rate of spread is unpredictable. But if it continues at this rate... maybe a week. Two at most.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, even with the filtered air in my suit. The Packhouse had stood for generations, a symbol of our pack’s strength and unity. The thought of losing it was almost unbearable.

“Do you think evacuation may be necessary?” Chris asked.

The scientist pressed his lips into a thin line. “Perhaps, if we’re unable to stop the spread into town.”

“Keep us updated,” Chris said gruffly. “I want hourly updates.”

“Yes, sir.”

As we made our way back outside, I could see the toll that this was taking on Chris. His shoulders were slumped, his movements heavy like he had a hundred pounds sitting on his shoulders.

Once we were out of our suits and back in the fresh air, I reached for his hand. “We’ll figure this out,” I said, although the words sounded hollow even to my own ears. “We always do.”

Chris squeezed my hand but didn’t respond. I knew he was running through scenarios in his head, trying to find a solution to a problem that seemed insurmountable.

I was about to say something else when a voice called out to us.

“Alpha! Luna!”

We turned to see the Elders approaching us. Elise, now the head of the Council with Degas gone, was in the lead. The other Elders flanked her, their faces equally serious.

“Elders,” Chris greeted them, straightening his posture. “What can we do for you?”

Elise stopped in front of us, her eyes darting between us—and lingering on me for a beat too long.

“We need to have a meeting,” she finally said, pursing her lips. “Immediately.”