The Tyrannical Wolf King's Contract Bride-Chapter 63: The Long-Standing Mole

Lila’s POV

"Just as all records of your mother were destroyed within the Wolf Clan," Jasper explained, "she left behind very few in human society, either. Even the record of her marriage to your father was wiped clean."

"Until I found out they started a business together after graduation," he continued. "A company called Star Dust Creative Consulting Co., Ltd."

He paused, then took another document from his desk drawer and pushed it toward me.

It was a yellowed photocopy of the company’s registration file. The seal on it was faded, but the text was still clear.

"Look, the founders’ names," Jasper said, pointing to the top of the document. "Thomas Bennett, Richard Thorne, and... Isolde Bennett."

"In other words, your parents were already married before they started the company, and Isolde had taken her husband’s surname." Jasper continued, pointing. "Here, it lays out the ownership structure. All of your mother’s shares were to be held and managed in proxy by her brother, Richard Thorne."

Jasper believed these clues all indicated that even though Richard and my mother weren’t blood-related siblings, they once shared a very deep bond.

"Is that why Richard ended up with all of my parents’ assets?" I heard myself ask, my voice carrying a tremor I hadn’t even noticed.

Jasper didn’t answer immediately. He was silent for a few seconds, then pulled a handwritten list from another file.

"I wasn’t able to catch Derek in Black Water Town this time, but I did get his list of informants."

The handwriting on the list was messy, and the ink had begun to smudge. It listed a dozen or so names, each followed by a location or a codename.

My eyes were fixed on the name that had been heavily circled in red.

Martha Smith — "Gray Dove"

The name clearly pointed to my aunt, the woman now known as Martha Thorne.

"She’s been spying on my uncle?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"No." Jasper shook his head. "She was spying on your mother."

He walked over to me, his gaze locking with mine. He spoke, each word sharp and clear.

"Martha was the first administrative secretary at Star Dust Creative Consulting Co., Ltd. She was hired right when the company was founded. Clearly, she works for Derek. As for why she later became your aunt... that’s something we still need to investigate carefully."

I staggered back a step, and my back slammed into the bookshelf behind me.

The bookshelf shuddered, and several heavy, hardcover books slid off, hitting the carpet with a muffled thud.

The hardcover of one of them, *Wolf Clan Secret History: North American Volume*, came hurtling straight for my head.

I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, but the impact I braced for never came.

An arm shot out, steadily blocking the space just above my head.

THUD!

A muffled thud.

The book slammed into Jasper’s arm before bouncing off and landing on the carpet, kicking up a small puff of dust.

He let out a muffled grunt, his body went rigid, and his face instantly turned deathly pale. His left hand shot to his right forearm, knuckles turning white as he gripped it tightly.

My eyes flew open.

A fine sheen of cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His jaw was clenched tight, the line of it as taut as a fully drawn bow. But even so, his right hand remained steady above my head, not pulling back, as if that impact had been no more than a flick to brush away a speck of dust.

"You..." I opened my mouth, my voice dry and raspy. "Your injury?"

He slowly released his grip, glancing down at the spot on his arm where the book’s spine had struck. There, a fresh bullet wound had split open again, a dark red bead of blood welling from the gash.

"I’m fine," he said, his voice low and raspy but carrying an undeniable calm. "It’s just a flesh wound."

But his breathing was clearly much more labored than a moment ago.

I watched the cold sweat on his forehead, the slight tremble of his fingertips, the hard line of his profile as he fought to keep me from seeing any sign of weakness.

A strange, sharp pang pierced my heart without warning.

It wasn’t pity.

It wasn’t compassion.

It was something more primal, more instinctual—as if his body were my own, and I was utterly shaken by what happened to it.

I immediately looked away, digging my nails deep into my palm, using the pain to force myself back to my senses.

"I just..." I heard my own voice, cold and hard, like a piece of iron pulled from an icehouse. "I just need you to stay healthy so you can continue to find information for me. It’s not that I’m worried about you."

The words sounded absurd even to my own ears.

But I had to say it.

I had to wrap myself in this hard shell, to block out any emotion that could tear me to pieces again.

He said nothing, just lifted his eyes and watched me in silence.

His gaze was too deep, too still, like a bottomless ancient well reflecting my every ounce of forced composure and my pathetic disarray.

Less than half a foot of space separated us.

His breath brushed across my forehead, carrying a mixture of cedar and gunpowder—cold, yet strangely familiar. My own breathing fell out of rhythm, each inhalation like drinking in his scent.

In the suffocating silence, he suddenly spoke, his voice so low it was almost just a breath of air, yet it drilled clearly into my ear.

"Lila, earlier in the studio, when I held you... my body was screaming."

’The glaring words of the *Offspring Potential Assessment* report exploded in my mind—"It is recommended to adopt a gradual emotional induction strategy to ensure Subject L’s active cooperation and optimal physiological state."’

I bolted for the door as if fleeing for my life, desperate to get away from this beast who had nearly ensnared me in his trap again!

But I failed!

He lunged, catching me from behind. His body was like a steel cage, and his ragged gasps against my neck sent a tremor through me.

"The Wise Elder told me," he said, his voice hoarse, every word like scraping sandpaper, "that my power is too immense. It could cause your seal to shatter unnaturally. If that happens, you’ll become a beast, stripped of all human reason..."

I twisted my head, my gaze plunging into the depths of his eyes.

There was no desire in them, no need for control, only a desolate honesty.

"So I forged that so-called *Offspring Potential Assessment* report, thinking it would keep you safe..." He let out a long, deep sigh. "But when I saw your aunt’s name on the list, when I found out you’d gone to their house on your own, I knew... I could never leave you."

A shudder wracked my body. In that moment, all my anger, all my defenses, were washed away by something much larger, much heavier.

I thought back to those nights. The nights we’d made love.

Every thrust was accompanied by his intensely suppressed gasps. Every embrace was a feat of control, him using all his strength to rein in his power, terrified that one careless move would shatter me in his arms.

And then there were the visions.

The visions that came at the peak of my climax, when my soul was forcibly dragged into the depths of his memories.

The way our souls trembled, forced into resonance. The way our blood thrummed, pulled by the same power...

Documents can be forged, lies can be spun, but the resonance of a soul... that doesn’t lie.

"I can believe you," I heard myself say, my voice soft but unnaturally clear. "But—"