The SUV carved through winding backroads and dark corridors beneath Fariesburg, leading Peter and Red to a hidden compound. Neither spoke. Peter's hand hovered near his side even without a weapon to draw. Red stared straight ahead, trying not to imagine how many eyes were on them.

  When the SUV finally stopped, a man in a black suit opened the door, gesturing for them to enter a lavish parlor through an unmarked side door.

  It looked like something out of a surreal dream: marble floors, velvet armchairs, gold-trimmed portraits. In the center of it all sat a tea table set for three, steam curling from delicate porcelain cups.

  At the head of the table was a figure dressed in a sleek silver coat, their face obscured by a digital mask—a smooth surface that shimmered and glitched, blurring facial features into ever-shifting static.

  When she spoke, her voice echoed from hidden speakers, distorted but clear. Feminine, calm, controlled.

  "Red Hood. Officer Pan. I'm glad you came."

  Red stepped forward. "Fairy Godmother, I assume?"

  "A title earned and maintained," the masked woman replied. "And the only name you'll get."

  Peter didn't sit. Red did.

  "So," Red said, folding her arms. "You wanted to talk about the Wolf?"

  The Fairy Godmother tilted her head.

  "Yes. But not the one you danced with. The one who came before."

  The Rise and Fall of the Original Wolf

  "He wasn't always a monster," the Fairy Godmother began.

  "Years ago, he was my fixer—brilliant, composed, persuasive. He was the one I sent in to de-escalate situations, not escalate them. No one saw him coming because he never needed to raise his voice, let alone a hand."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She tapped her teacup, the porcelain ringing softly.

  "Until one day, charm wasn't enough. He walked into a confrontation expecting to talk his way out. Instead, he had to fight. He killed five men that day."

  Peter shifted uncomfortably.

  "He saved the client," she continued, "but something inside him... broke. Or maybe woke up."

  "After that, violence became his solution to everything. Efficient. Bloody. Absolute. He was no longer my asset. He was my liability."

  Her voice grew colder.

  "So I made the call. We tracked him down and sent a kill team. My people ended him in the forest outside StoreyBrook."

  Red leaned forward, stunned. "Wait—so the Wolf was dead?"

  "Very much so," the Fairy Godmother replied.

  "But before we could retrieve the body, the Pyg Brothers stumbled upon it. They recognized him. They saw an opportunity. And they took credit."

  Peter blinked. "They didn't kill the Wolf?"

  "No," she said. "They found him, already dead, and built a lie on top of it. That lie made Anthony Pyg Chief of Police."

  Red felt a chill ripple through her.

  "So if the original Wolf is dead..." she said slowly, "...then who have I been chasing?"

  The Fairy Godmother paused.

  "That," she said, "is what troubles me most."

  She leaned forward, mask flickering softly.

  "Whoever this new Wolf is, he's not just imitating. He's replicating. Every detail. Every move. He's a carbon copy—psychologically, behaviorally, even stylistically."

  Peter frowned. "You think someone created him?"

  "Maybe. Maybe he created himself."

  She reached into her coat and slid a sealed folder across the table.

  "Whoever he is, he has knowledge that only the original would have—internal protocols, safe houses, names of people we buried years ago."

  Red picked up the folder.

  "And how does Alexander Wolfe fit in?"

  The Fairy Godmother's tone shifted.

  "Alexander was my accountant. Brilliant. Paranoid. Private."

  She folded her hands.

  "He stopped checking in. Disappeared. We sent people. Nothing. And then I heard a body had been found in StoreyBrook. When I confirmed it was him, I knew—someone was sending a message."

  Peter crossed his arms. "So the new Wolf killed him?"

  "Or someone working with him."

  She stood slowly, her gloved hand resting on the back of her chair.

  "I didn't bring you here to warn you. I brought you here because we have a mutual problem. I want him gone. Permanently."

  Red stood too. "And you want us to find him for you."

  "No," the Fairy Godmother said. "I want you to keep doing what you're doing. Just know the game is bigger than you realize. He's not hunting at random anymore. He's making a point."

  She turned toward the dark hallway.

  "And the next point he makes may be carved into someone you care about."

  The lights dimmed.

  A door opened at the far end.

  "Follow the trail to the next city. I'll be in touch."