Page 10

RAY

N ext time I see Helena, I’m kissing her. Right on her witchy mouth.

There’s no killing the smile on my face when I enter the shop.

No more hesitation. No more overthinking.

Helena cracked something open in me—something rusted shut so long I’d forgotten it was even there.

She reminded me of who I am—what I am—and did it without judgment, without flinching. The Crawford witch is right.

She always is, damn her.

We shifters are born at war—with ourselves. The wolf wants dominance. Control. The man craves reason. Most days, we find a balance. Barely. It’s easier with danger to focus us. But peace? Peace makes everything blur.

The wolf gets restless. He growls loudest when the world is too quiet. That’s when I wrestle with him hardest, having to work to keep him reined in. Deep down, I know the truth. He and I have to agree before we can do anything. No matter how much I want to pretend he doesn’t matter, he’s still me.

Today, though, we’re on the same page.

I step into the garage and inhale the familiar scent of oil, metal, and old coffee. It’s familiar and comforting. Raul is hunched over his laptop, tapping away at some schematic. Probably another exhaust system design since that’s what he’s been obsessing over recently.

Sam’s working his toolbox over, handling each wrench like it’s made of glass. Typical. He treats them like holy relics.

“Morning, sunshines,” I call out, my greeting echoing off the concrete walls. I stroll across the room like I don’t have a care in the world. “Relax, Sammy. Your tools haven’t wandered off. I stood guard all night to keep them from growing legs.”

“One day they will walk away,” Sam mutters. “And then you’ll all be sorry.”

Raul throws a glance over his shoulder. “Calling us ‘sunshines’ and cracking jokes? You get laid or something?”

“Tsk, tsk,” I say, shaking my head in mock scolding and trying to hold back an even bigger grin. “Such vulgarity from the great Alpha? Mom would’ve washed your mouth out with soap.”

“Don’t deflect,” Sam cuts in, looking up, his eyes narrowing like he’s Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m not deflecting shit, pup,” I say.

“Oh?” he asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. “You think I don’t know about last night? You think my woman doesn’t talk to me, huh?”

“What of it?” I ask, acutely aware of the intensity of Raul’s stare.

“You moved a whole tree? With your hands?”

“Brute force.” I shrug, flexing a bicep. “You should try lifting something heavier than a socket wrench, pup.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head.

“A tree?” Raul asks. “What the fuck happened?”

I give him the broad strokes of last night, bringing him up to speed. He shakes his head before returning his attention to the design he’s working on, muttering that I was probably an idiot.

“There was a stupid amount of sheer stubbornness,” I agree, the aches in my back throbbing. “Nearly pulled every damn muscle in my back. Felt like I’d run a marathon afterward.”

Sam snorts and shakes his head.

“Whatever… but hey—worth it if you scored a date with Stacy, huh?”

I pause, letting the humor fade just enough. “I want it to be.”

Raul frowns as he sets his laptop on the bench next to him. He leans in, a questioning look on his face.

“That’s not the tone I expected. You’ve been beating yourself up for days over her. Now you’ve got another shot, but you sound like you’re heading to a funeral.”

I rub the back of my neck as the concerns I’ve been pushing aside thrust their way in.

“It’s not that I’m not glad. It’s just… complicated. You and Monica, you two clicked right away. Easy. Natural. Stacy and I? We haven’t even been on a real date, and we’ve already had two blowups. Doesn’t exactly scream fairy tale.”

Before Raul can respond, someone knocks on the open garage door. All three of us turn around.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite witch,” Raul says warmly, walking over.

Helena steps inside. She walks in like the air belongs to her. Not just confident—unchallengeable.

“Morning, boys. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You never interrupt,” I say, my arms folding across my chest, hiding the sudden shift in my pulse.

A faint smile plays over her lips but she barely nods an acknowledgment.

“I wish I could say I came by to chat. But I’ve got something more—and it can’t wait.”

“Something wrong?” I ask, straightening.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she says, tone dipping lower.

“Five weeks back, a crew started clearing trees east of here. At first, I thought it was some rich human building a retreat. But when I saw it—” she pauses, eyes sharp.

“It’s not a house. It’s cross-shaped, two stories, and wide open inside. ”

“So what is it?” Raul asks, already frowning.

“Last week, I received reports that there were humans in lab coats moving around inside.”

“A lab ? Out here?” Sam asks, scratching the day’s growth of beard.

“It seems to be,” Helena nods. “But what kind of lab… that’s the question. I don’t trust it and I want you boys to check it out.”

“Let’s go,” Raul says, rising from his seat.

“Hold on,” Helena raises a hand. “It’s Saturday. It’s likely crawling with people. What are you going to do, waltz up and ask for a tour?”

“She’s got a point,” Sam mutters. “Middle of the day’s the worst time for stealth.”

“Why would anyone build a lab out here in the first place?” I ask. “It doesn’t make any sense to build something so far off the grid. That isn’t exactly prime real estate.”

She exhales slowly, eyes meeting mine.

“It could be legitimate,” she says. “Cheap land, maybe—but one way or another, I’ve got a bad feeling. And I trust my instincts. Be careful tonight.”

I nod, but there’s a stone in my gut. Helena knows something. She’s not saying all she knows—she never does—but I sense her unease. Whatever she suspects, it’s unfortunately big enough to cancel my date with Stacy. I pull out my phone and text her.

Hey, girl. I’m sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. Pack business. Hope you understand.

Her reply comes fast.

I’d understand if you told me what it was.

I can’t do this over the phone. Again, I’m sorry.

Whatever. Call me when you’re done with “pack” business.

I close my eyes and sigh. Her anger hits, but I can’t blame her. I bled for this shot. Lifted that damn trunk. And now I’m pulling the ripcord at the last minute. But this is bigger than one night. I’m a lieutenant. This is my duty.

Frowning at my phone I shake my head and slide it into my pocket. She’ll have to understand. This is what life together would be like if we made it work.

Which does nothing to ease the pit in my stomach. I’m putting any chance of an ‘us’ at risk, but this isn’t a choice, this is my duty.

We move under cover of darkness, leaving Dawson on foot. The forest swallows our footsteps, thick with shadows and the hush of nocturnal life. Pickups and bikes are too loud, too obvious. Shifting would be faster—but the noise, the scent trails, the stirred-up dust make it too risky.

Recon only. Raul drilled it into us all day.

We move in silence, every sense stretched tight. For over an hour we push through dense trees and underbrush, alert for anything—lights, voices, movement. The forest remains still. The rustle of leaves, distant owl cries, and the soft thrum of nature continues as expected.

Then we see it—trash. Soda cans, plastic wrappers, straws half-buried in the dirt. Human fingerprints on the land.

We follow the clearly laid trail, my gut tightening with every step. When we crest the last ridge, the structure comes into view. It juts from the forest like a scar—angular, raw concrete and unfinished steel.

“Come on,” Raul orders, taking the first step toward it.

Tall windows line both floors, and a glass entrance gleams in the moonlight. We pass wire fencing ready to be installed piled along the perimeter. Rolls of it stacked like coiled serpents, waiting to strike.

“They’re planning to keep people out,” Sam murmurs.

Raul kneels beside a coil, peering closer.

“No…I think they’re trying to keep someone in,” he says.

“Barbed wire,” I whisper, my stomach twisting. “What the hell are they building out here?”

“Not a prison,” Raul says, shaking his head. “Too small. Not enough cement. No interior cells. Let’s take a look inside.”

The structure looms like a threat, casting deep shadows as we approach. My boots crunch over gravel and loose debris. The door isn’t locked so we step through. Inside is a glass box of a room labeled Reception .

Raul heads towards the stairs while Sam and I explore the bottom floor. It’s an open space. The air is stale and thick with dust. Moonlight comes through the windows illuminating a marble floor. On the far wall is the gleam of computer towers.

“Not exactly a prison,” I mutter. “Unless the inmates are hardcore gamers.”

“Boys, get up here!” Raul’s voice slices through the stillness, echoing against the hollow bones of the building.

The urgency in his tone hits me like a jolt of electricity. Sammy and I glance at each other, then we’re sprinting. Our boots pound across the dusty floor. We take the stairs two at a time. I grip the railing, and swing around the final landing. My lungs burn with every breath.

Raul stands in the center of a wide room, frozen. Eyes locked on something beyond our view.

My stomach knots as I step beside him and follow his gaze.

Three side by side, towering cages line the far wall. Bars as thick as my wrist gleam under a layer of construction dust and grime. Above each one, a sign hangs from steel chains.

Test Subject 1

Test Subject 2

Test Subject 3

“What the hell is this?” Sam mutters, voice cracking at the end.

“They’re going to run experiments,” Raul answers flatly. His hand closes around one of the bars. “But the question is—on what? Wolves? Grizzlies? Feel this. You know it.”

I walk closer and reach out. The metal hums with a strange, too-familiar chill. My fingers brush the bar. Then recognition hits like a blow to the ribs.

“Titanium,” Sam blurts before I can. “No way. Steel cages could hold anything. Why would they need titanium?”

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” someone shouts.

A flashlight explodes against my cheek—blinding and hot. I don’t think. I move.

Adrenaline floods my veins. Instincts take over, muscles tighten, and my feet are hitting the ground. I lock eyes with the human. He fumbles at his belt—his hand dips—gun.

My wolf surges in my mind.

Unleash!

My blood howls for the shift. Muscles coil, claws itch beneath my skin—but I choke it back. Not now. Not here. One death brings a dozen more. They’ll ask questions. They’ll dig deeper. I clamp down hard on the beast.

I do roar as I lunge. I drive my palms into his ribs, full force. A bullet cracks past my ear, shattering tile as it embeds in the floor.

He grunts as I drive into him and we both go down. My head crashes into his gut. I pin him beneath me, fists clenched tight around his wrists, snarling in his face.

Then with a thud, a boot crashes into the side of the guy’s head, snapping it to the side. Raul drops to one knee and seizes him by the throat.

“Alright, asshole,” Raul growls, voice low and lethal. “Five seconds. Tell us what this place is.”

The guy’s terrified. I feel it. His heart is galloping like a scared rabbit’s, loud in my hypersensitive ears.

“I don’t know, man!” he chokes, voice cracking. “I’m security! They tell me shit.”

“Anyone else coming?” I press, my voice flat, eyes narrowing to slits.

“Yeah! The other guy’s not due for ten minutes!”

“That’s not long enough,” Sam grunts.

His fist flies and the man’s head jerks back with the impact, blood spilling from his lip.

“We were never here,” Sam snarls. “Say a word, and I’ll come back. You won’t walk away next time.”

He punches the guy one more time and something cracks. The guard slumps.

“What the fuck was that?” Raul snaps, eyes blazing as he glares at Sam.

Sam shrugs, brushing off his knuckles. Calm as hell.

“He was telling the truth. And if he doesn’t keep his end of our agreement…” He leans down, fingers tugging at the guy’s shirt, revealing a name tag. “We know where to find him.”

Marcus Leonard.

“We need to go,” I say, voice sharp, and Raul reaches out to help me up. “Sam’s right. That guy was scared shitless. His heart nearly exploded.”

“Run!” Raul barks the command.

And we obey. My pulse thunders. We’re out of time.

This whole thing stinks. Cages. Titanium. Test subjects. Whatever’s going on here, we weren’t supposed to see it.

Which means now, we’re a problem.

I don’t want to kill some poor bastard for doing his job. But if he talks—if any of them talk—it’s on us.

And it’d be a damn shame if someone has to die for a paycheck that barely covers rent.’’