Page 24

RAY

“ S ecurity’s tight. Real tight. It’s a goddamn fortress,” Billy says, his voice grim.

His words hit harder than they should. I clench my jaw in the silence blanketing our front yard, tension crackling like static. The way he says it—low, gravelly, certain—it’s not a warning. It’s a verdict.

I clench my fists until my nails bite deep into flesh. The pain keeps me grounded, barely restrains the wild urge to destroy something. Not because I’m angry—though I am—but because I’m helpless. And I hate that feeling more than anything else in the world.

“Going in is suicide.”

Silence ripples out, cold and consuming—like blood blooming in snow.

Disappointment winds its way through our group, dragging morale with it. Raul doesn’t take long to break the stillness.

“Any blind spots?” Raul asks, voice tight.

I hear the desperation under it. Just enough to crack his usual steel.

“Maybe one. Cameras, most likely. But if we’re fast, we might slip through.

There, at the back of the compound. We can leap from the trees to the roof.

The schematics show a skylight in the design.

But after you get in—” he pauses, letting that weight settle on our chests “—you’re not getting out the same way.

The only way out will be the front door.

Every guard will know we’re in and once they see us? ” He shakes his head. “It’s over.”

“Fuck!” Raul slams a fist against his forehead like he’s trying to beat the frustration out. The sound of bone on bone makes me wince.

“What happened to the decoy plan?” Erica snaps, slicing through the tension like a blade. She’s trying to piece together the change in our attitude. “You were all about that idea ten minutes ago.”

Raul gives her a look that says she’s lost her mind.

“Did you hear anything Billy just said?” he snaps. “There are too many guards, Erica. Even if you distract half?—”

“There are still a lot left,” she finishes for him, eyes narrowing. She tosses a glance at me, and for a second, I catch something raw and wild flicker in her gaze. “I don’t care. They’ve got Sammy. This isn’t a choice.”

Her words drop like a stone into a still pond. None of us disagree it’s bad but no one wants to touch it. She glares at each of us in turn, stopping at Raul.

“Get me there,” she says. “You won’t have to worry about them. I’ll handle it.”

“Erica—” Raul starts, but she shoves her face in his.

“Don’t argue with me, you oversized oak!” she snarls. “I said I’ll handle them, and I mean it.”

I blink. She’s got our Alpha—a beast of a man and the strongest among us—backed into silence. And he lets her. Doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t argue. He nods once and turns to Billy.

Raul straightens. “We do this by the numbers.” His Alpha voice returns—steel in every syllable. “Notify the pack. Ten of our finest are going in. The rest, perimeter watch. Move out!”

And just like that, we move. No more debate. No more hesitation.

We pile into my truck. The engine growls to life, and adrenaline slams into me like a freight train. Every nerve lights up. The road ahead glows under the headlights, but all I see is Sammy. Locked up, alone, afraid.

“Tell me you’re not going in wolfed out,” Erica says, gripping the oh-shit handle as I tear down the dirt road.

“I’d love to,” I mutter. “But I can’t. I’ll need my hands to get Sam out.”

“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. Their movements 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.

I don’t stop to watch, beelining for the staircase. Reaching the top, the hallway upstairs is brightly lit and cleaner than when we first explored it. Sterile. Gleaming. The halls shine like a hospital, as if polish and bright lights could wash the blood off the walls.

A woman steps out of an office with a binder clutched to her chest. She sees me—and behind me, Nora. Nora’s fist finds the woman’s nose with a sickening crunch. The binder flies. So does she. I barely look over because I know where I’m going.

There are flashing red lights over the cages we saw before. A warning system. I ignore the warnings, running along the cages, looking for my brother. The first two are empty. My gut twists, bracing for disappointment. What if we’re wrong? What if Monica didn’t have it right? What if….

I reach the third?—

“Holy shit…” Nora mutters, sliding to a stop beside me.

Sam.

He’s curled in the corner like a broken bird. Pale. Punctured. Shaking.

My breath chokes. He looks up—barely.

“Took you long enough,” he whispers.

“No time for that,” I bark.

I fumble at the lock. My fingers slip. Again. Goddammit—why now? Why can’t I get this right?

Nora shoves me aside—calm, steady. The lock clicks, and the cage swings open.

Sam stumbles out and collapses into my arms. He’s shaking, half-conscious—but breathing.

He’s alive.

And that’s all that matters. For now.