After they dismembered my body, my killer didn’t bother hiding what he did.

He dumped what was left of me into the drainage tunnels beneath the city’s enforcement district—an underground maze controlled by the mafia families, where chemical runoff, blood, and bodies disappeared into darkness.

It took the retrieval unit a full day to find me.

Not police.

Not government.

The Family’s cleanup division.

Men trained to erase scenes of massacres without leaving a trace. Even they struggled to move through the toxic sludge and industrial waste choking the tunnels.

By the time they brought me up, I was no longer whole.

My body was placed on a steel autopsy table inside the Family’s private medical facility. Three veteran field doctors worked for days under harsh white lights, reconstructing what was left of me.

My face was barely recognizable. My bones were broken. Parts of me were missing, swept away in the current.

But the real horror was my abdomen.

It had been cut open.

Not like a doctor would do it.

Like someone was trying to take something out… and hide it at the same time.

Then stitched shut again.

When they reopened it, a fine black powder spilled onto the metal tray.

The chem analyst went silent the moment he saw it.

Then stepped back.

Forbidden compound.

Military-grade interrogation toxin—used by illegal labs tied to rival families during internal wars. Banned even in the underworld because it destroys the nervous system before death.

That’s when the Shadow Division was called.

Not enforcers.

Not street soldiers.

The Family’s execution investigators.

And leading them was Kaelen Ravenscar.

Youngest commander in the organization. The boss’s most trusted weapon. The man sent when a situation needed absolute silence.

When he entered the room, no one spoke.

Kaelen looked at the body.

At me.

No reaction. No recognition. Just cold assessment, like every other case he had cleaned up for the Family.

The head doctor stepped forward.

“Female. Mid-twenties. Severe blunt trauma. Restraint marks on wrists and ankles. Extensive abuse before death.”

A pause.

“She was pregnant.”

The room tightened instantly.

Kaelen didn’t move.

The doctor continued.

“The abdomen was opened while she was still alive. The fetus was removed. This substance was inserted in its place.”

Silence snapped through the room.

“She survived afterward,” the doctor added quietly. “Approximately three days.”

Then—

“She was beheaded while conscious.”

The room erupted—anger, curses, violence held back by sheer discipline.

“This is a message,” one enforcer growled. “Someone is challenging the Family.”

“Only a rival family would do something like this.”

Kaelen finally spoke.

Low.

Controlled.

Final.

“This isn’t a rival warning.”

A beat.

Then—

“This is internal.”

The entire room froze.

Because inside the mafia…

External enemies were war.

But internal betrayal—

Meant execution.

A guard pushed open the heavy oak doors of the council chamber, holding a small parcel wrapped in plain cloth.

“Captain Ravenscar,” he said carefully, “your mate sent something again.”

The moment my name was spoken, Kaelen’s expression went cold.

Like it always did.

His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless, irritated.

“From now on,” he said flatly, “anything she sends—burn it.”

Jarek frowned, stepping closer. “It’s been months,” he said quietly. “Since your father’s death… Sariah was there too. She lost someone as well, Kaelen. She’s not your enemy.”

Before Kaelen could stop him, Jarek untied the cloth.

And opened the box.

Silence dropped instantly.

Inside was a crystal jar.

Clear. Sealed. Perfectly preserved.

And floating inside it—

A small fetus.

Fully formed. Impossible detail. Tiny hands, faint features… too real to be mistaken.

But what made the room go still wasn’t just what it was.

It was the expression.

A faint, unnatural curve at its mouth.

Almost like a smile.

The jar slipped from Kaelen’s hand.

It shattered against the stone floor.

Liquid spread across the council chamber as the body rolled slightly before coming to rest.

A healer dropped to his knees immediately, gloves already on.

One look.

Then his face changed.

“This isn’t real,” he said sharply. “It’s fabricated. Not organic. It was assembled.”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened.

“Another stunt,” he muttered. “She’s trying to get a reaction out of me.”

But I didn’t send it.

The room shifted uneasily. Even the enforcers looked disturbed now.

Jarek exhaled slowly. “Sariah wouldn’t—”

“Enough,” Kaelen cut in.

His voice was ice.

“This is a threat. She’s hinting at the heir she claims to carry.”

His eyes darkened.

“If she’s pregnant, it won’t matter. I won’t allow her to keep it.”

A pause.

Then colder—

“Women like her don’t get to tie themselves to my bloodline.”

Something inside me cracked.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Didn’t even doubt.

“I can’t stand her voice. Her face. Everything about her,” he said, turning away like the matter was already closed. “Focus on the victim. Identify her. Close the case.”

I stood there.

Unseen.

Unheard.

Already gone.

Then Kaelen reached for the mindlink stone at his wrist.

My name was still there.

For a second.

Then it disappeared.

Blocked.

Severed.

And through the broken link, his voice came one last time—sharp enough to cut clean through whatever was left of me.

“Stop this madness, Sariah. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

A beat.

“Even if you die, I won’t come running.”

But I already had.

I was the case they were trying to close.

I was the victim they still hadn’t named.

The investigation unit stood in formation inside the council chamber.

No music. No ceremony. Just the low hum of tension and the smell of ink, steel, and old blood money decisions being made.

In front of them, a wide wooden board had been set up. It was covered with parchment reports, charcoal sketches, and pinned fragments of evidence pulled from my remains. Red ink marked key details like battlefield targets. Silver needles held everything in place like it was a war map.

Because in the mafia, that’s what a murder case was.

War.

“One more time,” one of the enforcers said, voice steady. “Her blood profile doesn’t match any known rogue affiliates. No ties to smuggling rings, no contract history, no flagged movements.”

Another file was flipped open.

“We checked all allied territories,” another added. “No report of a missing pregnant woman matching her description. No requests. No claims. No searches.”

A silence followed that felt heavier than the reports themselves.

A younger operative frowned. “So she just… disappeared and no one is looking for her?”

Another scoffed under his breath. “In this city? Everyone belongs to someone. Someone would’ve spoken up.”

No one had an answer for that.

Kaelen stood in front of the board, silent, hands in his coat pockets.

His eyes tracked every detail like he was reading enemy movement patterns on a battlefield.

Then he tapped a note pinned near the center:

PUP.

“We don’t have her identity yet,” he said calmly. “But we trace the fetus, we trace the father. Blood inheritance records. Hospital cross-links. Family syndicates. Someone will surface.”

His voice was clinical. Detached.

Like it wasn’t a child.

Just evidence.

My throat tightened as I stood near the table where the pieces of my body had once been examined.

The crafted fetus—the one they’d dismissed as fake—had already been discarded into an evidence bin.

Like trash.

Like nothing.

Like me.

Kaelen turned back to the board.

“Dismemberment site,” he said, circling it with charcoal. “The tunnels were only the dump point. The actual killing happened elsewhere.”

A senior enforcer nodded. “No blood pooling there. Clean transfer. Professional handling.”

“Then find the primary location,” Kaelen ordered. “That’s where the scent trail will be strongest.”

Another report was pinned.

Left ear: missing.

A man at the back muttered, “They kept parts of her. That’s not random.”

“Maybe identification mark?” someone else suggested. “Tattoo, scar, implant—something valuable.”

Kaelen’s eyes lingered on the note for a second too long.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Because I knew exactly why they couldn’t find it.

That tiny mole.

Left ear.

A stupid little thing he used to touch absentmindedly when he pulled me close in private moments—like it meant something only he could read.

Now it was just another missing piece in a case file.

“Womb was opened while she was alive,” one investigator said flatly. “Then filled with unknown chemical residue. She survived after. Estimated duration: three days.”

The room went quiet again.

“Who does that?” someone muttered. “That’s not just killing. That’s message work.”

“Could be retaliation,” another said. “Someone targeting the Family through a civilian link.”

A third glanced at Kaelen. “Captain… any enemies capable of this level of precision?”

Kaelen didn’t answer immediately.

For a brief moment, his eyes shifted—just slightly—as if something in the pattern almost aligned.

Almost.

Then it slipped away.

“No confirmed link yet,” he said. “But whoever did this knew anatomy. Knows territory layout. And knew how to leave a message without getting caught.”

He straightened.

“Split the teams. Territory sweep for missing pregnant women. Crime scene reconstruction. Medical archives across allied clinics. Anything that overlaps.”

Orders snapped into motion. Chairs shifted. Papers were grabbed. The room broke into controlled chaos.

Then his mindlink stone flickered.

Kaelen paused instantly.

Everything about him changed.

The cold commander softened—not much, but enough.

“Jay… I’m scared.”

Her voice.

Selene.

The woman who never needed permission to reach him.

Kaelen turned away from the board like the entire investigation no longer mattered.

“Where are you?” he said, voice lower now. “Stay inside. Lock everything. I’m coming.”

A beat.

“I’ll handle it.”

The link cut.

And just like that, the council chamber emptied of its most dangerous man.

No objections were raised.

No one questioned it.

Because everyone understood the hierarchy in this world.

Cases could wait.

But Selene couldn’t.

I stood there, watching the board.

Watching my name never appear.

Watching my body become nothing but clues.

And for the first time…

I understood exactly where I stood in his world.

Not beside him.

Not even below him.

Just… outside it entirely.