A Sweet Distraction

Max had expected a lot of things. He had expected Brianna to be careful. To be calculated. He had expected her to slip away the moment school ended to disappear like she had yesterday. What he hadn’t expected… Was for her to walk straight into the most ridiculous place in New York City. The Museum of Ice Cream.

“This place is a joke,” Jason muttered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as they lingered near the entrance. “Who the hell comes here on purpose?”

Tyler smirked. “Afraid of sprinkles, Jason?”

Jason scowled. “I’m afraid of whatever the hell this place is.”

Max ignored them, his sharp red eyes locked on their target. Brianna had walked inside without hesitation, and of course that strange pet of hers was still with her. Brianna strolled casually through the entrance, her strange, silver-furred ‘dog’ trotting obediently beside her.

Except that thing wasn’t a dog. Not even close. Avalis, as she had called it, had nine long, flowing tails tipped with silver light, and its fur shimmered subtly under the artificial lighting. Its deep violet eyes held an almost too-intelligent glimmer, like it was watching everything.

Josh muttered, “Are we just going to pretend that’s a dog?”

Keira rolled her eyes. “Apparently, everyone else is.”

And indeed, just before entering, a woman had stopped Brianna, beaming at Avalis. “Oh, what a beautiful dog!”

Brianna tilted her head slightly, her expression calm but unreadable. “She’s a rare breed,” she said smoothly. “From overseas.”

The woman blinked. “Really? What breed?”

Brianna smiled, graceful and unbothered. “A celestial hound.”

Max went very still. That was not a real breed. And yet the woman believed her.

“Oh! How unique!” she gushed, before walking off.

Jason stared. “Did she just—”

“She just completely made that up,” Max muttered, his fists clenching. And the woman had bought it. And with that, she walked inside, Avalis padding after her without hesitation.

Max exhaled sharply. “Let’s go.”

Jason groaned. “I hate this mission.”

The moment they stepped inside, Max hated it. Everything was too pink. The walls, the floors, even the decorations. The air was thick with the overpowering scent of sugar cotton candy, vanilla, artificial strawberry. And the worst part? There were people. So many people. Loud, laughing kids, couples taking selfies, influencers recording content for their followers. His wolf bristled in discomfort.

“Why the hell would anyone come here?” he muttered.

Tyler snorted. “Maybe she’s secretly five years old.”

“I’m going to die here,” Jason muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” Keira said, though she looked equally unimpressed.

Max ignored them, scanning the crowd until he spotted her. She didn’t hesitate as she moved through the museum, Avalis trotting gracefully at her side. She didn’t rush. She didn’t look over her shoulder. She acted like she had nothing to hide.

Then she did something that completely threw Max off. Brianna had wandered into the Sprinkle Pool Exhibit, a massive pit filled with thousands of tiny, plastic sprinkles where kids were laughing and diving in. And she was—

Playing in it. Max stared. Brianna had actually stepped into the Sprinkle Pool, her boots discarded at the edge as she gracefully knelt down among the children. And then of all things she actually started playing with them. Her usual guarded expression melted away, replaced with something soft and real.

She laughed as Avalis pranced through the sprinkles, her nine tails flicking playfully as the kids chased her in delight. One little girl giggled and tugged at Brianna’s sleeve. Brianna turned to her, smiling warmly. Then, to Max’s complete shock, she grabbed a handful of sprinkles and tossed them into the air, making them rain down like confetti. The children erupted into laughter.

Jason blinked. “Is she seriously playing in a pool of fake sprinkles?”

“She looks… happy,” Emma observed quietly.

Max’s eyes stayed on her a second too long before he forced himself to look at the exit signs, the ceiling, anywhere else. Because she did. This wasn’t some calculated act. She wasn’t pretending. For the first time since they started watching her she looked completely at ease. Like she belonged here. Like she wasn’t running from anything. And Max didn’t know what to do with that.

A few minutes later, Brianna and Avalis left the Sprinkle Pool and made their way to the ice cream counter. Max and his friends stayed hidden near one of the exhibits, watching as she accepted a cup of ice cream soft-serve vanilla with caramel drizzle. She hadn’t taken a single bite when—

A little boy beside her accidentally dropped his cone onto the floor. The child’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. Without a second thought, Brianna knelt down and handed him her own ice cream.

“There,” she said softly. “This one’s yours now.”

The little boy sniffled. “But… what about you?”

Brianna smiled. “I didn’t really want it anyway.”

Max’s chest tightened. Why was she like this? Why was she so good at pretending to be normal? Or was she even pretending?

Jason let out a low growl. “Okay, this is weird.”

“What?” Emma asked.

“This!” Jason gestured wildly. “She’s too nice! No one is this nice! She’s not acting like a spy. She’s not acting like someone dangerous. She’s acting like…” He scowled. “Like some kind of saint.”

Keira frowned. “That’s what makes it weird. It’s too perfect.”

Max agreed. Everything about her was too perfect. And that was what made her dangerous. As Brianna left the museum, Avalis trotting beside her, Max gave a silent signal to his friends. They followed. Carefully. This time, they weren’t going to lose her. This time, they were ready.

Brianna stepped through the glass doors, walking out into the city. Max and his friends followed her out the door, right behind her. And then—

She was gone. Max froze. His breath hitched. She had been right there. The street was open. The sidewalks were busy. The building itself had huge glass windows. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. And yet she had disappeared.

Jason swore under his breath. “No. No way.”

“She was right here.” Josh turned in a slow circle. “Where the hell did she go?”

Keira’s jaw tightened. “How? This isn’t possible.”

Max’s blood ran cold. She had done it again. Without warning. Without explanation. Without leaving a single trace Max’s wolf growled restlessly. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t human. And Max was done playing games. He clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Alright,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “That’s twice now.”

Jason clenched his fists. “Next time, we don’t just follow.”

Keira’s eyes darkened. “Next time, we make sure she doesn’t disappear.”

Max nodded. “Next time,” he said coldly, “she doesn’t get away.”

Back at the Crimson Den Max sat on the couch in his room staring at Jason’s phone. The air was thick with anticipation and tension, the scent of burning cedar from the fireplace barely masking the frustration simmering in his chest.

Josh leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes dark with calculating skepticism. “Alright,” he said, glancing at Jason’s phone. “Let’s hear it.”

Jason’s smirk widened. He held the phone up, so everyone could see the screen, then tapped play. The moment Brianna’s voice filled the room, everything changed. The sound was pure, haunting, and impossibly ethereal. A melody older than time, carrying a resonance that sent a chill down Max’s spine.

It was not of this world.

The song was gentle at first, like a whisper on the wind, rising and falling with an unnatural grace. The language flowed like liquid silver, each syllable wrapping around the next in a seamless, melodic dance. Then, the chorus swelled. And suddenly, it was like standing at the peak of a mountain, feeling the wind howl through the valleys below.

Something primal inside Max stirred. Not his wolf. Something else. Something older. The last note echoed into silence. And for a long moment, no one spoke.

Josh was the first to exhale. “That… was not normal.”

Jason leaned back, brows furrowed. “Yeah, no kidding. What the hell did we just listen to? It felt even weirder than when we heard her in class.”

Keira, who had been watching Max carefully, finally spoke. “Max?”

Max’s jaw clenched. He felt off-balance, like the ground beneath him had shifted without warning. Because the moment he had heard that song, his instincts screamed something he didn’t want to admit. It was real. It was ancient. And it didn’t belong here.

Emma, the most composed of them all, reached for her laptop and began typing. “I’ll run a search for the lyrics,” she said, voice calm despite the tension in the room.

Jason snorted. “Good luck with that. I guarantee you won’t find anything.”

Emma ignored him, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. The room was silent except for the sound of clicking keys. Then—

Nothing. No results. No translations. No records of any existing language matching what Brianna had sung.

Keira leaned in. “Try searching phonetically,” she suggested.

Emma nodded, adjusting the search parameters. More clicking. More silence. And still nothing.

Josh let out a low breath. “Okay. That’s unsettling.”

Jason crossed his arms. “So we just heard a song in a language that doesn’t exist?”

Keira exhaled sharply. “That’s not possible.”

“But it just happened,” Tyler muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… now what?”

“Alright,” Josh said, pushing off the wall. “Let’s break this down. What do we know?”

Jason counted on his fingers. “One Brianna has no scent to Max. Two she disappears into thin air. Three her dog is clearly not a dog. And now? Four she sings in a language that doesn’t exist.”

Emma looked up from the laptop. “Maybe it does exist,” she said thoughtfully. “Just… not here.”

That sent a ripple of unease through the room. Max kept his expression neutral, but inside? Inside, he was fighting something he didn’t want to name.

“Could be a lost language,” Josh suggested, though he didn’t sound convinced.

Keira frowned. “Languages don’t just disappear completely from record.”

“Maybe it’s a dialect?” Tyler offered. “Something super obscure?”

Emma shook her head. “No. Even if it were a dead language, there should be something. Some trace of it in linguistic records, ancient texts, anything.”

Jason tapped the table impatiently. “Then what the hell does that mean?”

Silence. A heavy, uncomfortable silence. Then—

“It means,” Max said finally, his voice low and sure, “that she’s not who she says she is.”

That statement shifted the entire room. Jason leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “So you agree now? She’s hiding something?”

Max exhaled slowly. “I never disagreed.”

Jason smirked. “Good. Then I say we stop waiting for her to slip up.”

Josh shook his head. “No. We don’t have enough yet.”

Jason scowled. “Are you kidding? What more do we need?”

Keira, ever the strategist, turned to Max. “You want to push her, don’t you?”

Max met her gaze without flinching. “Yes.”

Because following her wasn’t working. Because waiting wasn’t working. Because Brianna was too good at avoiding them. And that meant it was time for a new approach.

Keira nodded, understanding immediately. “We corner her.”

Jason grinned. “Finally.”

Josh sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is going to backfire.”

Tyler chuckled. “Probably. But at least it’ll be fun to watch.”

Emma didn’t say anything, her brown eyes flicking to Max, thoughtful and knowing. She could see it, too. The tension in his shoulders. The way his wolf was restless on edge. Because now? Now it was personal. Now, he wasn’t just trying to uncover a mystery. Now, he needed to know what she was.

“Tomorrow,” Max said firmly, pushing back from the table. “Tomorrow, we get our answers.”

That night in the upper towers Richard’s office was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace. Richard sat at behind his desk, his sharp gaze focused on the file in Victor’s hands. Silas stood nearby, arms crossed, expression grim. Emily, seated beside Richard, studied the papers in front of her with a careful expression. She hadn’t spoken yet, but her intelligent gaze missed nothing.

Max and Michael sat across the table, waiting for the verdict.

Victor set the file down. “She’s clean,” he said flatly. “On paper.”

Max tensed. “But?”

Victor exhaled through his nose. “But I don’t buy it.”

Richard leaned back in his chair. “Explain.”

Victor leaned forward, tapping the thin file on the table. “This is what I call a ‘fabricated identity with just enough authenticity to pass a surface check.’”

Michael raised a brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Victor said slowly, “whoever created this went through a hell of a lot of effort to make it look legitimate, but they were too careful.”

Richard’s gaze sharpened. “How so?”

Victor flipped through the pages. “No past schools. No living family. A trust fund that’s just the right amount to cover her living expenses, but not enough to raise red flags.” He looked up. “It’s a classic orphan cover.”

Silas let out a low hum of agreement. “A ghost,” he said. “Someone who appears out of nowhere, with just enough paper trail to keep people from asking too many questions.”

Emily finally spoke. Her voice was calm, but thoughtful. “If someone is skilled enough to craft a fake identity, they usually have a reason,” she mused. “And this… this is meticulous. This is someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

Richard nodded once. “So the question is why?”

Max gritted his teeth. This was exactly what he had feared. Nothing about this girl made sense. And now? Now he had proof that she was hiding something.

Richard turned the closed file over once with two fingers, then set it flat on the desk. “For now, we keep watching her.”

Michael groaned. “So we’re back to babysitting duty?”

Richard’s gaze darkened. “No. We’re back to investigation duty.”

Victor smirked. “Well, considering she’s spent the whole day avoiding Max, I’d say that’s already working in our favor.”

Max scowled. “She won’t avoid me forever.”

Emily tapped her fingers against the table, her gaze landing on Max. “If she’s hiding,” she said slowly, “she’s doing it for a reason. And that means she’ll make a mistake eventually.”

Max’s jaw tightened. Good. Because when she did? He’d be there. And this time she wouldn’t disappear.