Rise of the Fallen Wolf

Miss Elizabeth and her son, Ryland, had drawn considerable attention since the last Jones pack meeting. Their certainty about Maxwell's demise had left others questioning, and the scrutiny made their every move precarious.

Elizabeth noticed Ryland slipping toward the storage room and hurried to intercept him.

"Wait!" she called out. "It's not us who will finish the job."

Ryland halted, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean he's a step ahead of us? What are you thinking?"

Elizabeth placed a hand on her son's arm, her tone calm but firm. "Do you not realize we're under a magnifying glass? Everyone already suspects us in Maxwell's disappearance. If we're seen anywhere near him, they'll have all the proof they need. Trust me—the job will be done soon, just not by us."

Ryland clenched his jaw, irritated, but Elizabeth quickly turned to Joëlle, who had just entered the room with her assistant. Flashing a nervous smile, Elizabeth scooped up her bag.

"Thank you for your cooperation. It's time for us to go," she said lightly, leading Ryland and Joëlle outside.

On the ride back to the Jones estate, Elizabeth broached another subject. "Joëlle, dear," she began, her tone syrupy sweet, "I need one more favor. Perhaps two or three members of South Park could help... manage the Maxwell situation. After all, family helps family, right?" She reached over, clasping Joëlle's hand with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Ryland, sitting in the front seat, was quiet. He watched his mother closely, marveling at her manipulative finesse. She had a way of bending people's will without them realizing they were giving in. When they reached the Jones estate, he finally broke his silence.

"Bravo, Mother," he said, clapping lightly. "Your talents never cease to amaze me."

Elizabeth simply smiled, her expression one of pride. But as they settled in, the hours that followed were tense. They waited by the phone, hoping for the confirmation call from Joëlle. The silence was suffocating until, finally, the phone rang. Elizabeth snatched it up.

"Hello, future mother-in-law," Joëlle greeted, her voice smooth. "As promised, the job's done. Just tell us where to deliver him."

Elizabeth's breath hitched. The plan had worked. She shot Ryland a triumphant look.

"Excellent," she said, her voice steady despite her excitement. "But as I've mentioned, we cannot risk being tied to him. That's why I'm entrusting you with the final task. Take him to the shelter behind the clinic. He won't trouble anyone after tonight."

Elizabeth hung up, barely able to contain her joy. She poured two glasses of wine, handing one to her son.

"A toast," she said. "To the future leader of the Jones pack."

Ryland raised his glass. "And to the true mastermind behind it all," he replied. They drank, savoring their small victory.

---

Meanwhile, at the clinic, Maxwell had begun to stir. Though still groggy from the drugs, he remained motionless, listening to the low voices of the two South Park members tasked with disposing of him.

"You think he's as dangerous as Ryland?" one asked nervously.

The other scoffed. "He's just a crippled cousin. No match for us."

Maxwell's heart raced, but he stayed still, waiting for an opening. When one of them moved closer, he acted on instinct, lunging forward with a burst of energy he didn't know he had. The room erupted into chaos as he fought back. His speed and cunning surprised his captors, and though the skirmish was fierce, Maxwell emerged victorious. Gasping for breath, he stared at the unconscious bodies, his mind reeling from what he'd just done.

Still shaken, he grabbed a nearby cloak to conceal himself and slipped into the night, determined to find safety. His instincts led him deep into the forest, where he could regroup and plan his next move.

---

Back at the clinic, Joëlle returned to check on things. She approached her assistant at the reception desk, her brow furrowing.

"How's the wolf? Did he eat?" she asked casually.

The assistant hesitated, avoiding eye contact. Joëlle's suspicion flared, and she pressed further until the assistant finally mumbled, "He's gone. Taken to the shelter. The boss's orders."

Joëlle's temper flared. "What did you do?" she demanded, her voice rising.

The assistant yanked her arm free. "Listen, it's not my problem! You and your soft heart don't belong here. Besides, you're no longer in charge."

Joëlle froze, the words hitting like a slap.

"That's right," the assistant sneered. "You're out, and I'm the new head. So unless you want me to report you, I'd suggest you leave quietly."

Joëlle straightened, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Enjoy your stolen position while it lasts. A house built on betrayal never stands for long." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, determined to make things right.