Max's POV
The black folder hit my desk with a satisfying thud that afternoon, just before combat trials were set to determine the hierarchy room assignments. Elliott had delivered exactly what I'd requested, courtesy of some well-placed bribes to Academy staff who valued coin more than confidentiality. The institution prided itself on impenetrable records, but every fortress had its weak points when the right pressure was applied.
I cracked open the cover with deliberate slowness.
The name stared back at me, confirming my suspicions.
Evan Clemens.
Steelwick Ridge Pack.
Twenty years old.
Sole heir to Alpha Tucker and Luna Evelyn.
My eyes swept through the documentation. Combat assessments. Performance evaluations. Standard capability measurements. Everything appeared precisely as it should, yet something nagged at my instincts like a persistent itch.
Too pristine. Too sparse. Too manufactured.
