Chapter 3: A Choice Amid the Ruins

The rain kept falling over Los Angeles, pattering against the glass windows of Judy Whitman’s apartment like a hundred tiny knuckles knocking for an answer. On her screen, the code “NC-LAB-98-04” still burned a blaring red. Judy pulled off her headphones and rubbed her throbbing temples. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a split second before she finally hit send.

“Alice, I found it. Nora’s lab has a logged authorization, and the supplier swapped out the condenser just one day after the records were ‘cleaned’.”

Alice held her phone so tight her knuckles went white. Rainwater ran down the ends of her hair, dropping to the ground and blooming into dark stains. She stood on the terrace of her mansion in the Hollywood Hills, her gaze cutting across the waterlogged streets to focus on the blurred silhouette of the Colman estate looming in the distance through the rain.

“What does that mean?” Her voice was quiet, but it carried the hardness of metal.

Judy took a deep breath and shifted in her chair, pressing her spine against the backrest to straighten up. “It means Precision Environmental Tech wasn’t just some HVAC contractor. In 1998, they custom-ordered a batch of Developer Inhibitor for Nora. This substance stops the silver salts from developing on photographic paper. In plain terms, it keeps the photos stuck as blank negatives forever, or erases an image that’s already been revealed. If that batch of files contained microfilm, this is the weapon that wiped them out.”

Alice closed her eyes, and her mind flashed to the basement of the family’s old house and the stack of yellowed papers piled there. She remembered the look in Helen Brooks’ eyes when she raised her glass at the dinner party—filled with an apology she couldn’t speak and a steeliness she couldn’t hide.

“I’m going to the underground archive.” Alice opened her eyes, her tone resolute. “The originals are down there. Nora can burn the copies, but she can’t physically destroy the negatives that were treated with the inhibitor. If I find those negatives, I can prove the 1998 incident was a deliberate cover-up, not an accidental fire.”

“Alice, that’s the heart of The Pack.” Judy’s voice was taut with tension. “Helen won’t let anyone near that place. Let alone you, when you’re part of the Colman Family. Plus, Nora has surveillance covering every known entry point.”

“Known entry points,” Alice sneered. She turned and walked back inside, grabbing a folded map from the table. It wasn’t a tourist brochure; it was a map of the abandoned subway line plans for Los Angeles in the 1980s.

“Nora’s eyes are glued to her surveillance cameras, but her brain is still stuck in the analog age.” Alice spread the map out, her finger tracing a line that had been decommissioned long ago. “This line was abandoned in 1992 due to geological subsidence, but in the records, it’s still listed as a ‘maintenance access tunnel’ within the underground utility grid. Nora wouldn’t check a track that hasn’t been running for thirty years. Why? Because installing modern surveillance gear down there would require laying new fiber optic cables. It’s too expensive, and it would leave maintenance traces that are easy to spot.”

“Wait, you’re telling me I need to crawl into an abandoned subway tunnel?” Judy gasped, her voice laced with disbelief and horror. “Alice, that place is full of standing water and rats. It might even be one of Nora’s private no-go zones. If you get caught, Helen will lock you up in a sanitarium for the sake of family honor, or something worse.”

“Helen’s love is far more fragile than her pride.” Alice rolled up the map and shoved it into a waterproof pouch. “She’s hiding the truth to protect The Colman Family’s standing in werewolf politics. But if I show up in public with undeniable original evidence, she’ll be forced to pick a side. She loves me deeply, Judy. You know that. And before that moment comes, all I need to do is stay alive and get the proof.”

The line went silent for a few seconds, save for the static hiss of the connection.

“God, you are such a stubborn woman.” Judy cursed under her breath, but there was no real anger in it. “I’ll pull up the city construction records for the last seven days. There are three sewer reinforcement jobs happening on the north side of the Hollywood Hills right now. The construction crews will be working in the underpass areas tonight. Use their floodlights and the noise of the machinery to mask your movements. But listen carefully: avoid the patrol cars after 11 PM. Raymond Colman might be old, but the hunting dogs he commands have an ear that’s sensitive to the smallest sound.”

“Copy that. One more question—does the Silver Nanocoating left over from those Developer Inhibitors react to a standard UV light?”

“It fluoresces. I’ll slip a portable UV flashlight into the hidden pocket of your bag. Remember, don’t shine it on anything for too long. There are motion sensors in Nora’s lab.”

After hanging up, Alice began packing her gear. Her movements were efficient, not a wasted motion to be found. She checked the tread on her tactical boots to make sure they had enough grip for the wet tunnel walls. She organized a multi-function folding knife, a roll of high-strength nylon rope, and the pouch containing the UV light. Finally, she glanced at the name pinned to the top of her phone’s contact list: Helen Brooks. She didn’t call her. She just looked at the time. 21:45.

Outside, the rain began to ease. A crack opened in the heavy clouds, letting a pale shaft of moonlight spill onto the wet asphalt.

Alice zipped up her jacket and pushed through the front door. The air was damp and cold, smelling of mud and ozone. She skirted the main road and took a trail down the Hollywood Hills, her figure quickly swallowing into the night. The gravel path was rugged and uneven; every step required careful balance to keep from making a sound. She controlled her breathing, keeping it shallow, while her heartbeat pounded against her eardrums. It was the instinctive rhythm of a hunter closing in on prey.

When she reached the entrance on the north side of the Hollywood Hills, a city construction truck was parked by the roadside, its searchlights swaying in the rain. Alice crouched in the shadows and observed for ten minutes. The workers were in the middle of replacing a burst drain pipe; the site was loud and chaotic, machines roaring. Taking advantage of their cigarette break, she slipped through a narrow gap behind the construction fencing and vanished into a maintenance hatch in the underground utility grid.

Down here, it was a different world. The darkness was thick, clinging to her like a physical substance. Alice switched on her headlamp; the beam cut through the heavy smell of mold and rust. The tunnel was narrower than she remembered, the tile on the walls mostly missing, revealing the rough concrete underneath. She followed the direction of the abandoned tracks, sinking deep into the thick sludge with every step.

After walking about four hundred meters, the space suddenly opened up. This used to be a subway transfer station, but most of the ceiling had already collapsed. Massive concrete slabs piled up like the carcasses of giants. Alice squeezed past a broken crossbeam, sweeping her light into the distant dark.

There, a rusted iron door stood half-open. The paint had flaked off, exposing the dark metal underneath. A faded warning sign hung by it: NO ADMISSION: STRUCTURALLY UNSTABLE.

Alice moved closer and used her folding knife to scrape the rust off the doorframe. The blade tip touched the cold metal with a faint, crisp ping. She held her breath and waited five seconds. The silence was terrifying, broken only by the sound of water dripping from above. Drip, drip. Like a countdown.

No alarms. No barking.

She pushed the door open.

The hinges let out a shrill groan that echoed through the empty underground space. Inside was a staircase leading down, into a deeper darkness. Alice switched on the UV flashlight, the purple light illuminating the stairwell walls.

She saw something that made her blood run cold.

On the wall, where there should have been plain concrete, there were densely packed glass tubes. The tubes were broken, their liquid contents dried up into grayish-white crystals. But beneath that layer of crystals, a purple fluorescence was slowly flowing. It was the specific reaction of the Silver Nanocoating, meaning this area had once stored a massive amount of specially treated photographic negatives.

At the bottom of the staircase, the entrance to the abandoned air-raid shelter was not sealed. There was a desk, and on it sat an old-fashioned typewriter. Beside it was a vintage oil lamp, still flickering with a faint green light.

Alice stopped, her hand bracing against the cold wall. She realized she had walked into a trap. Or perhaps, a stage.

Footsteps approached from behind.

“I knew you’d find your way here.”

The voice wasn’t loud, yet it rang out clearly in the silent underground space. Alice didn’t turn around. Her body went rigid, muscles coiling, ready to defend herself at a moment’s notice.

“Helen?” she asked tentatively, her voice trembling.

“No, Alice.” The voice carried a husky laugh, like sandpaper rubbing against wood. “It’s Raymond.”

The heavy thud of leather boots moved closer. Alice finally turned.

Standing by the desk wasn’t Helen, and it wasn’t the Raymond Colman she had imagined in her mind. It was a man in a gray suit. His face was hidden in the shadows, only a pair of old but sharp eyes visible.

“Raymond?” Alice’s voice cooled. “Why is he in such a dangerous place?”

The man smiled, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and lit the oil lamp. The flame flickered, illuminating his face. It was Raymond Colman, but he looked more haggard than in his photographs, his eyes holding a weary, frantic edge.

“Dangerous?” Raymond murmured, his features blurred in the smoke. “Alice, you think you’re looking for the truth? No. You’re just looking for an excuse to bring Nora down. You’re too naive.”

“Then why are you here?” Alice gripped the UV light, the purple beam casting eerie patterns on Raymond’s face.

“Because I’m here to stop you.” Raymond stepped forward, a stone crunching under his foot. “Nora orchestrated the 1998 incident to seize leadership. But if she knows you’ve found these negatives...”

He paused, his gaze dropping to the crystallized glass tubes on the wall. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes—guilt, and fear.

“She will burn the entire basement.” Raymond said. “To preserve the family’s honor, she’s capable of anything.”

Alice stared at him, her eyes burning. “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re an Elder. You have the power to decide where this family goes.”

“I have no power.” Raymond’s voice dropped, laced with a resigned sadness. “In front of Nora, we are just shadows. I’ve kept this secret for so long because I was afraid. I was afraid the truth would tear the family apart. I was afraid Helen would get hurt.”

He raised his head, meeting Alice’s gaze directly. “But today, I’m old. My legs don’t work the way they used to. I couldn’t keep up with you. I gave you the map because I believe that only you, Alice, can see the traces that have been erased.”

Alice felt a wave of dizziness. This wasn’t just a conspiracy; it was a betrayal, and a plea for help. Raymond extended his hand, palm up, holding a small, folded piece of paper.

“Take it.” Raymond said. “It contains the original index for the negatives. With that, you can prove which films were treated with the inhibitor and which were blank to begin with.”

Alice didn’t move. She looked into Raymond’s clouded eyes, seeing the weight of the secrets and pain hidden there.

“If I leave now, what will Helen think?” she asked.

“Helen will hate me. And she’ll be grateful to you.” The corner of Raymond’s mouth twitched into a bitter smile. “She always thought I was helping Nora. In reality, I was just buying time. Waiting for a chance to...”

He didn’t finish the sentence, because the sound of a siren echoed in the distance. It was faint, but enough to break the dead silence of the deep underground.

Raymond’s face changed. He quickly stuffed the paper into Alice’s hand, then turned and stumbled toward the deeper darkness of the air-raid shelter.

“Run!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the tunnel. “Go left, third junction. There’s a ventilation shaft that leads to the surface. Don’t look back!”

Alice clutched the paper in her hand, her fingertips white from the grip. She glanced toward the darkness where Raymond had disappeared; all she could hear was his ragged breathing fading away.

She turned and ran in the direction Raymond had indicated. The mud on the floor was slippery, causing her to stumble. The footsteps behind her didn’t stop. Raymond was still struggling to move, or perhaps Nora’s pursuers had already arrived.

She pushed through the iron grate of the ventilation shaft. The cold night wind rushed in, carrying the fresh scent of the rain. She vaulted over the grate and landed in the bushes outside.

The sound of rain was like thunder, beating against her thin clothes and hammering the fortress in her heart that was beginning to crumble.