Page 8

8

CALLUM

T he Hollow smells worse in daylight.

Like stale beer, old blood, and the ghosts of bad decisions. Sunlight leaks in through the warped boards covering the windows, but it doesn’t do much to clean the place up. Still feels like a cave full of growling dogs waiting for a fight.

Elias and I push through the heavy door, both of us stiff from too little sleep and too many questions.

“Same table?” Elias asks.

“Nah. Let’s just report in and get it over with.”

He nods, eyes tracking the usual suspects—Vann brooding in the corner like a discount mobster, two of the younger recruits sparring in the back, and my father already seated at the long central table, sipping something dark out of his favorite chipped glass like it’s his goddamn throne.

I roll my shoulders and head toward him.

“You’re late,” Mathis says, without looking up.

“We were working,” I reply flatly.

His eyes lift to mine, cold and calculating. “So what did you find?”

I hesitate for half a second.

Not long. But Elias notices. Of course he does.

“Not much,” I say, keeping my tone even. “No confirmed triggers. Caught some residual energy—probably leftover from a solstice-born who shifted late. Nothing stuck. No conflict. No witnesses.”

Elias shifts beside me, but says nothing. Loyalty. Or maybe he’s just curious to see how deep I’m willing to dig this hole.

Mathis stares at me for a beat too long. Then nods once. “Good. Clean patrol.”

Bullshit. He knows I’m lying. I know he knows. But we’ve both learned how to play the game.

Before he can press, Devon—our intelligence runner—slips through the side door with a tablet in hand and a face like he’s got secrets burning a hole in his pocket.

“Report just came in,” he says, glancing at Mathis. “From the Southside informants. A werewolf triggered last night.”

Mathis’s face hardens instantly. “Where?”

“Near the cemetery district. Suppressed gene, forcibly awakened. No pack affiliation. Likely unregistered.”

I glance at Elias. His brow twitches. Just enough to confirm what I’m already thinking.

It’s her .

The one we felt last night. The one whose scent is still tattooed in the back of my mind.

“There’s more,” Devon says. “Her bloodline was flagged. Old name. Hidden lineage. It triggered a system alert when she bit. PEACE hasn’t responded yet, but someone’s watching.”

I lean forward. “What name?”

Devon hesitates. “Bolvi.”

A beat of silence.

Then my father swears, low and vicious, in Old Norse.

I’ve only heard that once—when a Draconis rep threatened to expose us for harboring a rogue during a blackout year.

“What is it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

Mathis recovers fast, but there’s tension in his jaw now. His hand flexes around the glass. “The Bolvi line should’ve died out.”

“Apparently not,” Elias murmurs.

I look back at my father. “What makes her so special?”

“She shouldn’t exist,” he snaps. “They were wiped out during the Fallow Wars. They weren’t just werewolves—they were wild magic incarnate. Instinct without conscience. No reason. No loyalty. Just power and hunger.”

“Sounds familiar,” I mutter.

His gaze cuts to mine. “Don’t be clever.”

“I’m serious,” I say, voice harder now. “You just described how the humans talk about us . Is that what we’re doing now? Copying their propaganda and slapping it on anyone who doesn’t fit the mold?”

“She’s dangerous.”

“She’s newly awakened . That doesn’t make her the enemy.”

He stands, slow and deliberate. The rest of the table quiets.

“I won’t have you defending werewolves, Callum.”

“And I won’t sit here while you try to turn us into the same monsters who put collars on our necks a decade ago.”

His jaw clenches. “Watch yourself.”

“No,” I say, stepping forward. “ You watch yourself. You think wiping her out will make the humans feel better? That if we keep our side of the street clean, they won’t come kicking in our doors next?”

“Better to strike first than to wait.”

“That’s fear talking. That’s not strategy. That’s you, too old and too angry to see a future that doesn’t look like a graveyard.”

The room is dead silent.

Even Vann is quiet, for once.

Mathis exhales through his nose. “You’ve always been naive.”

“And you’ve always been too scared to admit that peace means giving something up.”

We stare each other down.

“Dismissed,” he mutters.

Elias claps me on the back as we step away. “Well,” he says softly, “that went about as bad as it could’ve.”

“Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“I could’ve agreed with him.”

He laughs under his breath. “You think she’s really one of them?”

I nod. “Oh yeah.”

“And you think she’s dangerous?”

I glance back at the table, where my father now looks like he’s trying to drink away the shape of his own reflection.

“Not yet,” I say. “But they’re going to make her dangerous if they keep treating her like a bomb.”

Elias looks at me, quiet for a second.

“What’re you gonna do?”

I stare at the cracked floorboards beneath us.

“I’m gonna find her first.”