The Light In the Darkness {Clexa endgame}

Chapter 12 - Lexa

"Dammit," I yelled as I hung up the phone and then yelled, "Fuck," as I threw it at the fireplace and watched as it shattered.

Anya poked her head in the office and looked at me worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"The construction crew found the box before our guys could," I said, growling, and then indicated where my phone now lay shattered on the floor in front of the fireplace, "And now, I need a new phone."

She walked over and knelt to pick up the pieces, shaking her head all the while, "Lex, this is like the third phone in as many months. You can't keep throwing it like that."

I growled menacingly at her and spit out, "Well, find me a hard enough phone case that can withstand my throws."

She chuckled, "Lex, this was military grade. There's nothing harder. I do have some good news, though."

"What," I said cautiously.

She handed me a folder and I opened it to reveal several pictures inside. They were photos of a man and a woman unpacking a moving truck and grocery shopping. I looked up at her and watched her smile widen.

"Who are they?"

"Those two bought the place," she said, eagerly. "The woman's name is Clarke, the guy's Nate. Last name still unknown. Do you see how much they're carrying and buying?"

I looked down at the photos again and my eyes widened in shock, "Are they werewolves?"

"It looks like it. There's no way that normal people can carry that so easily or even need to eat that much food. They've got to be werewolves."

"So, where did they come from and did they know our pack was here?"

"Don't have an answer for that yet, but look at the one side of the woman's head. She's been hurt bad and it looks pretty recent, too. That could be why she's here. Lost a fight and got ran out of town. Guy could be her husband or something."

I studied the photos closer and couldn't help noticing how piercingly blue her eyes were, it reminded me of the wolf in the painting. She was also drop dead gorgeous, with curves lovers dreamed of. The guy was good looking too, but it didn't look like they were romantically involved. He looked more like he was taking care of her. Protecting her.

I looked back up at Anya and said, "I guess keep an eye on them. See if anything else interesting shows up. And see if you can't dig anything else up on them. I'm curious to find out what a pair of packless wolves are doing so far away from home."

She grinned, "I'll make sure Lincoln keeps an eye out on them. Want me to order a new phone and case for you?"

"Please," I said, rubbing my temples. "I really gotta learn to control my temper."

"It's not that," she replied, chuckling, "You've got to learn not to throw things that are in your hand, especially your phone. You're costing the pack money."

I growled low at her and she left laughing. I let the growl go and instead, sighed as I picked up the picture of the woman, Clarke. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't quite place it and that bothered me. I was usually very good at remembering people, but she eluded me completely. I looked up at the painting and searched for the golden wolf. That's what I referred to it as, the golden wolf.

On instinct, I opened up my laptop and googled the artist. The first link was to the art gallery where I'd bought the painting. Clicking on it, I was immediately taken to the artist's page. Image after image of her paintings scrolled by and each one was as breathtaking as the next. Every painting were of landscapes. Mostly of what looked like the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Shenandoah Valley. There was so much vibrancy in the colors and the way she painted them, you could almost imagine the scent of the forest surrounding you. When I looked closer at the paintings, I could make out images of wolves, shadowed by the foliage. In every single painting there was at least one wolf. The one's that centered around the wolves themselves, I sought out the golden wolf. It was always there with it's piercing blue eyes. It was usually hidden among the grays and blacks of the other wolves, but there were a few where it stood off to the side and watching over the other wolves. Much like an Alpha would.

I looked over the website to see if I could find a biography of the artist, but I couldn't find one except a small blurb explaining her inspiration. I got out of that website and scrolled and clicked through every mention of the painter that goes by Griffin. Every website said the same thing. Everything was about her work, but there was nothing about the woman herself. Not even a photo. It was almost as if she didn't exist. Which of course was preposterous. So, I went back to the first sight and emailed the owner of the gallery, explaining that I wanted to inquire about commissioning a piece from her. I laid the compliments heavily in the email and then sent it on it's way.

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to commission a painting, I just knew that I wanted to meet this woman and find out the truth about the golden wolf.

Surprisingly enough, I got an answer by the end of the day. Reading the email, I became a little disappointed. The owner said that the woman didn't usually do commissions and was currently on a sabbatical, but she would pass on the word to her and get back to me. I sighed and closed out my mail. I left the office in a mood and ignored my usual routine. As I walked home that night, my thoughts circled around the photos of Clarke and the painted images of the golden wolf. They circled so much, that it almost seemed like they became one and the same.