The morning of the Happily Ever After Ball started with a headline—one that didn’t have Red’s byline but had her fingerprints all over it.

  THE WOLF RETURNS: WHO WILL BE NEXT?

  The StoreyBrook Gazette had pulled heavily from The Red Files, citing her article on the recent murder and directly quoting her observations at the scene.

  “The bloody paw print left behind wasn’t just a calling card. It was a message. The Wolf isn’t hiding. He’s hunting.”

  – Red Hood, The Red Files

  It was the first time Red had seen her work taken seriously by the mainstream press. Normally, the Gazette wrote her off as an independent blogger with theories—but now, they were quoting her like she was an expert.

  Red should have felt a surge of pride. Instead, she felt the prickle of a target on her back.

  By noon, she got the call from Jacob Hunter.

  “Pyg wants you out, Red. Officially.”

  She had known this was coming, but hearing it still made her grip the phone tighter.

  “I’m not at the crime scenes to make trouble, Hunter,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

  “Doesn’t matter. The Chief’s fuming over the Gazette quoting you like you’re one of us. It makes the department look bad,” Hunter sighed. “He’s making it official today—no more crime scenes. If you show up, they’ll escort you out. Maybe worse.”

  Red clenched her jaw. “So I was right, and instead of working with me, he wants to shut me up?”

  Hunter hesitated. “Just… lay low for now. I mean it, Red.”

  Red exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Sure.”

  But she wasn’t done.

  The Happily Ever After Ball was a who’s who of StoreyBrook’s elite—a night of glitz, luxury, and, for Cindy, another attempt to find her “Prince Charming.”

  The red carpet stretched down the grand staircase of the King Cole Hotel, cameras flashing as celebrities, socialites, and power players arrived in gowns and tuxedos.

  Red had never been part of this world. She was usually on the outside, watching from the press gallery. But tonight, she wasn’t just covering the event. She was in it.

  And the Wolf was watching.

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  He stood among the reporters, hidden in plain sight. A neatly-pressed black suit. A press badge clipped to his jacket. A camera in hand, just like the other journalists. He blended in, just another face behind the flashing lights.

  And then Red stepped onto the carpet.

  She wasn’t just another guest. The deep red dress Cindy had picked for her was form-fitting, elegant yet striking. A red satin ribbon was tied in her hair, a nod to her usual hood. The lights of the cameras caught the shimmer of the fabric as she moved.

  For the first time, Red felt eyes on her—not as a reporter, but as a story.

  Reporters called her name. “Red Hood! Over here!” Cameras flashed. The Gazette’s coverage had legitimized her presence, and now she wasn’t just a journalist—she was a figure in the Wolf’s case.

  She knew what this meant.

  And so did the Wolf.

  He watched from behind the lens as she moved down the carpet, answering questions, smiling for the cameras when necessary. She had no idea he was standing right there, looking directly at her, calculating.

  He let a slow, amused smile creep onto his lips.

  Tonight was going to be fun.

  Inside, Red found Cindy at the top of the grand staircase, grinning in triumph as she saw Red’s entrance.

  “I told you that dress was the right choice,” Cindy said as Red reached her. “You just made an entrance fit for a queen.”

  Red huffed, rolling her eyes but unable to hide a small smile. “I could’ve worn jeans, and the Gazette still would’ve put me on the front page.”

  Cindy waved off the comment. “Please. Let me have this moment. My best friend, turning heads at the biggest event of the year? I’m taking full credit.”

  Red shook her head but squeezed Cindy’s hand. “Thanks for the invite, Cin.”

  Cindy winked. “Thank me later. Now, go enjoy the party. Maybe even dance for once?”

  Red let out a scoff, but Cindy was already pulled into another conversation.

  She made her way toward the main hall, scanning the crowd. Somewhere in here, Detective Hook and Detective Hunter were stationed as part of the security detail. But Red wasn’t looking for them.

  She was looking for Peter Pan.

  And she found him near the dance floor, standing rigidly in his emerald-green suit, clearly uncomfortable in the formal setting.

  He spotted her at the same time.

  Peter’s lips parted slightly. His eyes flickered over her dress, her hair, the way she carried herself. He blinked like he wasn’t sure if it was really her.

  “Pan,” Red said, smirking slightly.

  Peter cleared his throat, straightening. “You, uh… you clean up nice.”

  “Relax, rookie,” Red teased. “I won’t tell the others you almost blushed.”

  Peter sighed but shook his head, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. “What are you doing here, Red?” His voice dropped slightly, more serious now. “Pyg banned you from cases.”

  “I’m Cindy’s guest,” Red said smoothly. “Not here as a reporter. Just here to enjoy the party.”

  Peter gave her a look. “Yeah, sure. You? At a ball? Not working?”

  Red smirked. “Okay, maybe I’ll keep my ears open.”

  Peter exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “If Hook sees you, he’s going to—”

  “—Glare at me and tell me to go home? Been there.”

  Peter studied her for a long moment, then said, “Just… be careful, okay?”

  Before Red could reply, a voice interrupted.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Red turned.

  A man in a black suit stood before her, sharp features and golden-brown eyes locking onto hers. His expression was smooth, polite—charming, even.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  Peter stiffened beside her. Red blinked, studying the man for a moment. There was something… off about him.

  But she couldn’t place it.

  Yet.

  Still, she offered a small smirk. “Depends,” she said. “You got a name?”

  The man’s lips curved into a slow smile.

  “Wolfe,” he said. “Mr. Wolfe.”

  And Red placed her hand in his.

  As the music swelled and he led her onto the floor, the Wolf’s eyes flickered—not at her, but at Cindy, across the ballroom.

  His true target.

  Peter watched, something gnawing at his gut. He had a bad feeling about this.

  And soon, that feeling would be right.