“And how exactly are you planning to neutralize that many heavily armed guards, Erica?” Nora asks, leaning forward from the back seat.

Erica doesn’t hesitate.

“You all wanted me to embrace the witch. Fine. I am. But not for you. For Sammy. They took what’s mine.”

She growls the last word in a rumble any shifter would be proud of. Words lodge in my throat, unsaid. Not because they don’t matter—but because right now, they don’t help. My little brother has been missing for eight days. Eight days of silence. Eight days of thinking he was dead, then imagining the worst. Needles. Restraints. That blank, hollow stare he got when fear locked his voice away.

If they’ve hurt him—no. No room for rage. Not yet. First, get him back. Then burn the world down if I have to.

We’re five minutes out when the road narrows, the trees pressing close like jaws tightening around prey. The forest feels alive, holding its breath for what’s coming. The facility’s floodlights pierce the darkness like surgical blades, cold and clinical, slicing through the night. Even from a distance, I can see how bright it is. That place doesn’t sleep.

“That’s it,” Erica mutters, tapping the windshield like she wants to punch through it. “Sick bastards don’t even try to hide.”

“Yeah. Time to go dark,” I say.

I veer off the road, tires crunching over a shallow crest. Trees tower above us, thick and ancient. I kill the lights and coast, barely breathing, guiding the truck between thick underbrush until it’s swallowed by shadow. Not a great spot, but it’ll have to do. Raul’s truck pulls up behind us. I get out, pulse thundering. Raul joins me at the tree line, eyes scanning the compound.

“They built this fast,” Raul says.

“They’ve got money. Probably government backing,” I say.

We move forward with as much stealth as we can manage. I spot two guards pacing near the fence, their rifles slung tight. Theirmovements are routine, practiced. Boredom like that breeds mistakes—and bullets. Raul nods toward Erica.

“Sammy’s girl’s got balls of steel. Must love him like crazy,” Raul whispers.

I glance at her—tall, spine straight, eyes burning with purpose. There’s fire in her, yes—but deeper still, something raw and ancient. Power uncoiled. Purpose awakened.

She steps out of the woods and onto the road without a flicker of hesitation. My stomach clenches. Flashlight beams snap toward her, blinding in the dark.

“Who the hell—?” One of the guards barks, rising up straight. “You lost, sweetheart?”

“Kind of,” Erica replies. Her voice trembling and soft, just enough to sell the act. “My car broke down, and my cell is freaking dead. I need to call my friend for help.”

“I’ve got a phone,” the second guard says, his smirk oily. “But nothing’s free, sweetheart.”

“Earn it?” she asks, her tone flat.

The moment she lifts her arms, it all changes. A pulse of pink light flares around her fingers—brief, blinding. Their rifles jerk upward, ripped clean from their hands, twisting mid-air until they aim back at their owners.

“Now!” Raul barks.

“You sorry assholes,” Erica snarls, snapping her fingers. “You took my mate. Now I take everything.”

Two shots crack like thunder. Red erupts behind the guards, painting the fencing and their bodies crumple.

She bolts to the left. The gate slides open with a mechanical groan. Bullets rain down from the rooftop, aiming at her, but they bounce off the air around her. There’s a shimmering as they slam into nothing, a shield around her body. She doesn’t even flinch as she rushes ahead.

Thirty yards in, she slows. Lowers her head then raises her arms. She throws them wide open, her face is full of fury. Her scream tears from her throat like a banshee’s wail—grief, fury, and raw power woven into every note. The air itself flinches. A shockwave rips outward, warping light and smashing into everything like a tidal wave of rage.

Energy pulses outward, a shockwave of color that flattens everything in its path—dirt, wall, flesh. It doesn’t care what—it smashes it all. The guards it hits burst into flame. They don’t die quietly.

“Go!” Raul’s voice booms.

The pack bursts from the woods. Dozens of yellow eyes ignite the dark like embers. The forest erupts—claws shredding dirt, snarls rising like thunder as the pack descends.

I leap the fence, running to Erica. My heart is pounding and every sense is screaming. My focus is on the building’s glass entrance. Inside, three men in lab coats stand frozen. One of them screams and bolts as the doors open, and Dawson’s wolves pour through.

Their snarls are deafening.