Free Web NovelChapter 68: Chapter 68 The Scholars Trap
Bella’s POV
The driver pulled away, leaving me standing alone at the address I’d been given.
The location felt wrong immediately. This wasn’t anywhere near the usual pack territories. Instead, I found myself at the very edge of our lands, where civilization seemed to fade into wilderness.
A solitary house sat before me, its weathered exterior telling stories of years spent battling the elements. Dead branches reached toward the gray sky like skeletal fingers, while weeds choked what had once been a proper lawn.
My boots echoed against the rotting porch boards as I approached the front door. Each step sent a small shiver of unease through me, though I couldn’t explain why.
I rapped softly against the peeling paint of the door frame, then waited. The silence stretched uncomfortably long, and impatience began to gnaw at my composure.
"Enter," a voice called from somewhere inside.
The tone was weathered and unsteady, yet there was something unsettling about how he spoke. No questions about my identity, no hesitation. As though my arrival had been expected all along. ƒreewebɳovel.com
My fingers found the door handle just as he spoke again. "There are supplies by the entrance. Bring them with you."
I paused, scanning the porch until I spotted several grocery bags clustered near a cracked ceramic planter. Strange. Why would he leave food outside?
Gathering the bags, I turned the handle and stepped into the dimly lit interior.
The house’s layout revealed itself immediately. Stairs climbed to an upper level on my left, while a door marked what had to be basement access tucked beneath them. To my right lay a compact kitchen, and straight ahead, a living area where an elderly figure sat motionless in a wheelchair, his attention fixed on something beyond the window.
"Hello there," I offered, moving into the living space and setting the bags on a nearby table.
"Not there, please. The kitchen would be better," he said without turning around.
I noticed the wheelchair then, really noticed it, and assumed he must have regular help. A nurse, perhaps, or a caregiver.
"I should mention, I’m here about the diary," I explained, wanting to clarify my purpose in case he’d mistaken me for his usual assistance.
A low chuckle escaped him as he finally pivoted to face me.
He appeared harmless enough. Thick glasses dominated his lined features, while wild gray hair and an unkempt beard gave him the look of a eccentric scholar. His eyes held a sharpness that seemed at odds with his frail appearance.
"I’m aware," he said simply. "Truth is, I never know when she’ll arrive, and I didn’t want the food spoiling."
I managed a smile and headed toward the kitchen area.
The space was surprisingly well-maintained. Every surface gleamed, and everything had its designated place. I began sorting through the groceries, transferring perishables to the refrigerator and storing cleaning materials in what appeared to be a pantry.
The task took perhaps fifteen minutes.
When I returned, he’d positioned himself differently, and an ancient leather journal rested in his lap. His smile seemed broader now, almost pleased.
"Please, sit," he gestured to a chair across from him.
I settled myself and tried to project confidence. "I was researching at the library recently, reading about different wolf breeds. But there was one section, about a particular type, where pages had been removed."
"I know who you are," he stated.
My carefully maintained smile wavered slightly.
"I don’t believe we’ve met before," I said quickly.
"Perhaps not in person, but I’ve seen you on television broadcasts. You’re the human who studies our kind, the one they call a savior," he continued.
An uncomfortable laugh escaped me.
"I do my best," I replied. "So, about those missing pages concerning the grey wolf?" free𝑤ebnovel.com
"Ah, the Grey Wolf. Now there’s a puzzle that has consumed decades of my existence," he began, his gaze growing distant. "I’ve dedicated my life to understanding wolves. Traveled from pack to pack, territory to territory, seeking out those rumored to be unique, extraordinary."
His voice took on a wistful quality.
"But there was always one that eluded me. Every time word reached me of a Grey Wolf sighting, by the time I arrived, they’d vanished without a trace."
He opened the journal and began turning pages.
"These packs, all of them claimed to have encountered one at some point. I never witnessed one myself. Only collected stories, testimonies, secondhand accounts."
He paused, studying my expression with those sharp eyes.
"So you don’t actually have concrete information? Then what did you include in your research?" I pressed, watching as something like pride flickered across his features.
"I recorded what I could," he continued, "but it was all hearsay, accounts from others. Eventually, I realized it wasn’t enough. I needed direct observation, firsthand experience. I wanted to document how such a wolf would react to various stimuli, emotions, situations."
The old man’s expression grew melancholy, as though discussing his greatest failure.
Behind him, I noticed walls lined with certificates and awards, impressive displays of academic achievement.
"These represent my life’s work," he said, noticing my attention. "My pride and accomplishment. I never married, never had offspring, never even maintained long-term relationships. This research was everything to me."
Despite his obvious dedication, I found it difficult to understand such complete sacrifice for academic pursuit.
"You must have been highly regarded in your field," I commented.
He nodded enthusiastically.
"Indeed. Though younger generations seem less interested in their heritage these days. I was always curious, always questioning. And see this empty display case?"
He indicated a vacant space among his awards.
"The council promised me something special. If I could provide definitive information about the Grey Wolf, they would grant me a lifetime achievement honor and title me Father of Lycan Studies."
His shoulders sagged.
"I suspect they made that promise knowing it was impossible. But I took it seriously. That was many years ago. Now I’m old, and I’ll die with that goal unmet."
He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, and genuine sympathy stirred within me.
"Does that mean there’s nothing available?" I asked.
"Those removed pages might assist you. I maintain an extensive library downstairs, filled with journals from my research years. When I removed those pages, I stored them below. You’re welcome to examine them, but please inform me before removing anything."
He produced a small brass key.
I accepted it eagerly, rose from my chair with barely contained excitement, offered a grateful nod, and hurried toward the basement entrance.
Even without personal observation, secondhand accounts could prove valuable, just as he’d suggested.
I reached the basement door and inserted the key.
The moment I opened it, a sharp, decaying odor wafted upward. The smell of rotting paper and moisture.
I began descending into complete darkness.
My phone’s flashlight pierced the gloom as I continued downward.
The staircase seemed longer than it should have been, each footstep echoing ominously.
Then I sensed movement behind me, though no one should have been there.
I spun around to find the old man standing on the stairs above me, no longer in his wheelchair. In his hands was a large syringe filled with green liquid.
"Stop!" I screamed, recognizing the poisonous wolfsbane.
Everything happened within heartbeats.
The needle pierced my neck before I could react, and his foot connected with my body, sending me tumbling down the remaining stairs into darkness.
