CHAPTER 7

ELARA

Unusual vocalization.

Those were the exact words I typed into the report file assigned for creature.

Maybe I should call it a large wolf. It sounds more respectful.

I paused for a moment after writing it, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, tempted, just for a second to add more. To write the truth.

But I didn’t.

I left out the most important part.

I didn’t write the word he had said.

Even now, hours later, I kept replaying that moment in my head, turning it over again and again, searching for some flaw in my memory, some distortion, some mistake I could cling to.

I told myself I must have misheard it. That my mind, already strained and restless, had filled in something that wasn’t there.

Every minute, every passing second, I repeated the same excuse.

You didn’t hear it right.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

And if I said it enough times… maybe it would start to feel true.

Because what was the alternative?

That a wolf-like creature, something I haven’t even fully understood, had looked at me and spoken a word so clear like a human?

No.

That didn’t make sense.

It was easier, far easier to believe I was wrong than to accept something that contradicts everything I thought I knew.

With a deep exhale, I moved the cursor toward the send button, ready to forward the report to Janet and be done with it.

Then a notification popped up on my screen.

I frowned slightly and clicked on it, expecting just another routine file from one of the researchers, data, logs, something ordinary.

But the moment it opened, my breath stilled.

It was the same restricted file I had tried and failed to access before.

PROJECT FENRIR.

I clicked in it and it still wasn’t accessible.

Should I reach out to Janet?

Ask her directly? Request official access the proper way?

That would be the logical thing to do.

I mean, Janet had granted me access to higher-level files before, so why should this be any different?

Or should I?

The memory of her practically kicking me out of the containment unit the last time I went in without authorization made me hesitate. That had been humiliating, and I wasn’t eager to repeat it.

Still, I needed to know.

I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out my level nine access card, turning it over in my fingers.

For a file to be classified, it had to be at least level nine. And since I had temporary level nine access, logically… I should be able to open it, right?

I quickly sent the report to Janet, shut down the system, grabbed my phone, and access card and moved toward the exit.

This was the perfect time to go to the archive. Most of the staff would be at lunch. If I played my role well, walked with confidence, kept my head high I could probably slip past security without drawing attention.

I had made it just to the elevator when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Frowning, I pulled it out and froze slightly when I saw the notification.

It was a message from our group chat: me, Janet, and Jade.

Janet: Where are you, Elara?

Shit.

Did she figure out I’m heading for the archive?

Another message popped up almost immediately.

Janet: With the way you’ve been fainting nonstop these days, you shouldn’t be skipping your meals. Where are you having lunch?

Before I could even breathe, another ping.

Jade: Are you in the lab? I’ll bring your food to you.

Hell no.

My thumb flew across the screen, typing faster than my racing thoughts.

Me: I already had lunch, and I’m reviewing some files now. Don’t bother bringing more food, Jade. I’m no glutton.

Hopefully, that would keep him away.

Jade: Alright then. I’ll check up on you after lunch.

Good. That gave me a window. I should be done with whatever I needed before then.

Me: Sure.

The elevator pinged, and I stepped out onto the floor. My boots clicked softly against the polished surface as I made my way toward the separate archive. A pair of men stood outside the door, watching everyone who passed with that familiar combination of boredom and suspicion.

As soon as they spotted me approaching, their eyes narrowed slightly.

“How can we help you, miss?” one of them asked, his tone polite but wary.

I stopped a few feet from them, letting my expression stay calm, then I pulled out the level nine access card.

“I was sent by Janet to retrieve a file.”

Seeing the access card in my hand, the guards didn’t argue. They assumed I was telling the truth, after all, that card wasn’t something anyone could just stumble across. Then, with a curt nod, one of them stepped aside.

“Go ahead,” he said. “But keep it quick.”

I gave a small, polite nod in return, and pushed the door open, slipping inside. The archive smelled of cold metal and paper and lined with rows of shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Rows upon rows of neatly kept files lined the shelves, each container labeled clearly with titles and names etched above them.

I cast a quick glance at the CCTV cameras mounted high in the corners. It was only a matter of time before Janet noticed that I had accessed this area.

What’s the worst that could happen?

They can’t fire me. I’m one of their best staff members, valued, dependable. I had earned some leeway.

Following the alphabetical order on the shelves, I stopped at letter F. My fingers traced the labeled containers until I found the one that held files for Project Fenrir.

I pulled it down and opened it, expecting a trove of classified documents, pages and pages of research, analysis.

Instead… it was small.

Too small.

I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. “That’s all?” I muttered, tilting my head at the handful of thin documents. “With the way this file kept denying me access, I expected… more.”

I pulled the box onto the floor and settled cross-legged as I sifted through the documents inside. Most of them were heavily redacted, black lines swallowing the majority of the text, some portions even edited or replaced. But one file stood out.

It looked older than the rest, worn at the edges, the paper slightly yellowed. My eyes caught an underlined section that drew me in immediately.

‘Mate-recognition behavior and compatible personnel.’

Whatever the hell that meant.

I dug back into the box, hoping to find more about mate-recognition behavior, maybe something that could explain the cryptic terminology. Instead, my fingers found a different file, this one labeled compatible personnel.

Curiosity made me flip it open.

Inside were twelve names, neatly typed, numbered. I began to read them aloud, and then I froze.

Elara Voss.

My own name, printed cleanly on the page.

“What the fuck is going on? What is my name doing here?” I hissed under my breath. “Why the fuck is it circled with red ink?”

My hands shook slightly as I flipped the document over to check the creation date.

13th May 2025.

It was dated three months before I was even hired into this lab.