Chapter 7: Fidel’s Careless Mistakes

Lila POV 

The next day, we ran into each other again. I wanted to shove away and watch him from afar to see what he has on his sleeves but he already saw me from afar and calling for my attention.

"Wow, wow, so we meet again. Okay, thank God. I was thinking of calling you," Fidel said, flashing that overly confident grin.  

"You said you were just passing through, didn’t you?" I asked, keeping my tone light as I set down my drink.  

Fidel nodded, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. “That’s right. A quick stop on my way south.”  

“South?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Funny, you don’t strike me as someone familiar with these parts. Most travelers don’t start conversations by asking about pack territories.”  

His grin faltered—just for a second—before he masked it with a shrug. “What can I say? Old habits die hard. I like to know who’s around. It’s not every day you find yourself in the middle of a warzone, after all.”  

“A warzone?” I echoed, tilting my head like the idea was absurd. “Now that’s dramatic. I’d hardly call this town a battleground.”  

His gaze sharpened, and I felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed the tension? The disappearances? No rumors about rogue attacks?”  

“Oh, I’ve heard the whispers,” I said with a casual shrug. “But I’ve got no skin in the game. The packs around here keep to themselves. And so do I.”  

“Interesting,” he mused, but his tone was too casual, too calculated. “You seem pretty well-informed for someone who keeps to themselves.”  

“Call it a hobby,” I said with a forced smile. “Small-town gossip is hard to avoid.”  

“So, you’re saying you’re just an observer?” Fidel pressed, his tone dipping into something sharper, more insistent. “No alliances, no ties?”  

I leaned forward slightly, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Why? Looking to recruit someone?”  

“Not exactly,” he replied, his smile thin, almost predatory. “Just trying to get a feel for the lay of the land. Can’t be too careful these days, you know?”  

“True,” I said, nodding as though I agreed. “But you don’t look like the cautious type to me. Showing up here, asking all these questions—it’s a bold move.”  

“Boldness is a necessity when survival’s on the line,” he countered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You can’t afford to play it safe when the stakes are high.”  

“And what stakes are we talking about here, exactly?” I asked, my tone light but my eyes watching his every move.  

He hesitated, just for a moment, before he leaned in closer. “I think you know.”  

“Maybe I do,” I said, my voice deliberately vague. “Or maybe you’re just assuming I care enough to find out.”  

“Oh, I think you care,” Fidel said, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “You’re too quick on the uptake to be indifferent. Someone who really kept to themselves wouldn’t bother keeping track of pack politics.”  

“And someone who’s just passing through wouldn’t bother digging so deep,” I shot back, matching his intensity. “So, tell me, Fidel—what are you really doing here?”  

His grin tightened, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of frustration. “Like I said, just passing through. But it seems like you’ve got your own theories. Care to share?”  

“Oh, I’ve got theories,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But I’m not in the habit of handing out free intel. Especially to strangers.”  

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone lighter but still carrying an edge. “But let me ask you this—do you think these so-called ‘whispers’ you’ve been hearing are just rumors? Or do you think there’s something more to them?”  

“Depends on who you ask,” I said with a shrug. “Some people thrive on drama. Others… well, let’s just say they know how to keep their heads down.”  

“And which one are you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.  

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I replied, my lips curling into a faint smirk.  

The conversation had felt off from the start, but now the pieces were falling into place. Fidel’s careless mistakes had painted a clear picture. His probing questions, the way he lingered on details about local packs, and his false claims of passing through—it all pointed to one thing: he was here on a mission.  

And I was ready to mislead him.    

But what kind of mission? And how close were they to discovering who I really was?  

I smirked to myself. If Fidel thought he could outmaneuver me, he was in for a rude awakening. I’d feed him just enough false information to keep him off course, all while staying one step ahead.  

The game was getting interesting, and I thrived on strategy.  

—

Lila’s Strategic Hacking 

My fingers flew across the keyboard, the glow of the screen lighting up my face in the darkened room. I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I bypassed another layer of security.  

The King brothers were nothing if not thorough. Their digital footprint was minimal, and their travel plans were deliberately obscured. But I wasn’t just any hacker. I thrived on unraveling puzzles, and this one was personal.  

“Gotcha,” I whispered as the screen filled with encrypted files.  

One by one, I sifted through the information: hotel bookings under pseudonyms, timestamps from border crossings, and the final nail in the coffin—a flight schedule that matched perfectly with Jeremy’s death.  

“They’re here for me,” I muttered, my chest tightening.  

The realization wasn’t surprising, but it still sent a shiver down my spine. They were closing in, inch by inch. But how much did they already know? How close were they to connecting the dots?  

“You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?” I whispered to the empty room, the faint clatter of my keyboard filling the silence.  

For a moment, I stared at the flight schedule on the screen, my mind spinning. The timestamps lined up too perfectly. Jeremy’s death wasn’t just an accident to them—it was a message, a signal that I was next.  

“Okay, Lucas and Jake, what’s your next move?” I asked aloud, as if the file would answer.  

I scrolled through the encrypted documents again, muttering to myself as I pieced it all together.  

“Why two hotel rooms? Why pseudonyms? Are you trying to throw someone off, or are you just paranoid?”  

I leaned back in my chair, chewing the inside of my cheek. The Kings weren’t amateurs, that much was clear. But even the best made mistakes, and I was betting on finding one.  

“Arrogance,” I murmured. “That’s what this is. You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”  

I clicked on another folder, scanning the contents carefully. My fingers hesitated over a series of financial transactions—small, deliberate payments that traced their movements like breadcrumbs. It was all so… methodical.  

“You don’t just want to find me. You want me to know you’re looking.”  

The thought made my stomach churn, but I wouldn’t let fear take root. Fear was their weapon, not mine.  

The glow of the screen flickered as I opened a detailed itinerary hidden within the file. Hotel check-ins, restaurant reservations—it was all there. They weren’t just hunting me; they were planning every step of the way.  

“You’re thorough, I’ll give you that,” I muttered, shaking my head. “But you’ve underestimated me.”  

A soft ping sounded from my computer, signaling another security layer cracked. My lips twitched in satisfaction as new details emerged—flight numbers, departure times, even a note about a “contingency plan.”  

“Contingency plan?” I raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning, Lucas? Backup in case I slip away?”  

The idea only fueled my resolve. If they were preparing for contingencies, it meant they weren’t entirely sure of my next move.  

“Amateurs,” I scoffed, though I knew better. The Kings weren’t amateurs—they were predators. But even predators could be outmaneuvered.  

My focus sharpened as I zeroed in on the hotel details. Two rooms, both booked under fake names. One check-in scheduled for tomorrow.  

“Tomorrow,” I whispered, tapping my finger against the desk. “That doesn’t give me much time.”  

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the screen. My mind worked through a dozen scenarios, each one more dangerous than the last. Staying ahead of them wasn’t just about evasion—it was about control.  

“You think you’re the hunters,” I said softly, a smirk tugging at my lips. “But you’re just walking into my trap.”  

For a moment, fear threatened to creep in, but I shoved it aside. Fear was a distraction, and distractions were dangerous.  

Instead, I focused on the opportunity. Armed with their travel details and current location, I had the upper hand. I could stay ahead, anticipate their moves, and remain a ghost in the shadows.  

Every keystroke, every clue—they all brought me closer to outsmarting them. The thrill of the chase surged through me, a reminder of why I thrived in chaos.  

My lips curled into a determined smile. If Lucas and Jake King thought they could find me, they’d have to work a lot harder. .