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Ithan nodded, understanding.

Bryce knew it wasn’t adrenaline alone that powered her as she launched back into the carnage.

“Shelters close in four minutes,” Declan announced to the conference room.

“Why hasn’t your helicopter arrived?” Ruhn asked Fury. He stood, Flynn rising with him.

Axtar checked her phone. “It’s on its way over from—”

The doors at the top of the pit burst open, and Sandriel entered on a storm wind. And there was no sign of her triarii or Pollux as she strode down the stairs. No one spoke.

Hunt prepared himself as she glanced his way, seated between a now-standing Ruhn and Hypaxia. The gorsian manacles lay on the table before him.

But she merely returned to her seat at the lowermost table. She had bigger concerns at hand, he supposed. Her attention darting between the screens and feeds and updates, Sandriel said, “There is nothing we can do for the city with the Gates open to Hel. We are under orders to remain here.”

Ruhn started. “We are needed—”

“We are to remain here.” The words rumbled like thunder through the room. “The Asteri are sending help.”

Hunt sagged in his seat, and Ruhn sank down beside him. “Thank fuck,” the prince muttered, rubbing shaking hands over his face.

They must have dispatched the Asterian Guard, then. And further reinforcements. Perhaps Sandriel’s triarii had gone to Lunathion. They might all be psychotic assholes, but at least they could hold their own in a fight. Fuck, the Hammer alone would be a blessing to the city right now.

“Three minutes until shelter lockdown,” Declan said.

In the general chaos of the audio feed Declan had pulled up, a shifter’s howl went out, warning everyone to get to safety. To abandon the boundary they’d established against the horde and run like Hel for the still-open metal door.

Humans were still fleeing, though. Adults carrying children and pets sprinted for the opening, hardly bigger than a single-car garage door. The Viper Queen’s warriors and a few of the wolves remained at the intersection.

“Two minutes,” Declan said.

Bryce and Ithan fought side by side. Where one stumbled, the other did not fail. Where one baited a demon, the other executed it.

A siren blared in the city. A warning. Still Bryce and Ithan held the corner.

“Thirty seconds,” Declan said.

“Go,” Hunt urged. “Go, Bryce.”

She gutted a demon, whirling toward the shelter at last, Ithan moving with her. Good, she’d get inside, and could wait it out until the Asterian Guard arrived to wipe these fuckers away. Maybe they’d know how to seal the voids in the Gates.

The shelter door began closing.

“They’re too far,” Fury said quietly.

“They’ll make it,” Hunt ground out, even as he eyed the distance between the slowly closing door and the two figures racing for it, Bryce’s red hair a banner behind her.

Ithan stumbled, and Bryce grabbed his hand before he could go down. A nasty gash gleamed in Ithan’s side, blood soaking his T-shirt. How the male was even running—

The door was halfway closed. Losing inches every second.

A clawed, humanoid hand from inside wrapped around its edge. Multiple pairs.

And then a young, brown-haired wolf was there, her teeth gritted, her face lupine, roaring as she heaved against the inevitable. As every one of the wolves behind her grabbed the sliding door and tried to slow it.

“Fifteen seconds,” Declan whispered.

Bryce ran and ran and ran.