The knocking turned into pounding soon.
"POLICE! OPEN UP!"
The three froze. For a second, time itself seemed to pause. Rain pattered against the windows like a ticking clock — seconds falling away.
Matt instinctively moved for the kitchen — for the back — but Brendon grabbed his arm.
"Wait. We need to find a safer route."
Christopher's voice was calm, too calm. "You two go."
Brendon and Matt both looked at him. "What?"
"I'll stall them. I will buy you time."
"No. That's suicide. They are under Zuekh's command for sure. He'll know—"
"I know," Christopher said sharply, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "That's why it has to be me. They'll hesitate. I'm still a cop. My badge still counts for something."
"But—"
"Brendon. Please. Give me one chance to prove my worth."
Another heavy bang at the door. This time louder, angrier. Something metallic scraped — probably the ram bar being readied.
Matt's eyes darted to the window. "That's a three-story drop."
"It seems like jumping out is our best shot," Brendon growled.
He turned, inhaling — deep, concentrated — and something in him shifted.
Brendon's posture didn't just hunch — it coiled, flexed. His pupils narrowed, amber gleaming against the low light. Fur thickened at the jawline, claws extended, but not grotesquely — naturally. He looked like the midpoint between man and beast. Raw, efficient power held back just enough by control.
> The primal form.
Anthros had whispered of it in cultural circles and history books. Carnivores especially — those who hadn't entirely abandoned the bloodline of their ancestors — retained access to that bridge state not physically but behaviorally too. A tether to a world before civilization.
"Stay close," Brendon told Matt, voice deeper, more guttural now.
Matt didn't argue.
Christopher looked at both of them, then smiled faintly. "Just don't forget me when this is over."
Brendon grinned — a sharp, toothy thing. "Try not to get arrested, you brat."
Christopher turned and walked toward the front door, shoulders squared. As he reached for the knob, Brendon and Matt sprinted to the rear room. Brendon kicked open the window.
They climbed onto the sill just as the front door burst inward.
---
Scene – The Interception
"CHRISTOPHER?" Zuekh's voice was smooth, but the ice beneath it was unmistakable.
Christopher raised both hands.
"I'm alone," he said.
Zuekh stepped through, flanked by a group of officers in black combat gear — too stiff to be standard city police. Likely private. Likely bought.
"We have intelligence suggesting fugitives are inside," Zuekh said. "Step aside."
Christopher shrugged. "I've been asleep. Just woke up. You got a warrant?"
Zuekh's eye twitched. He stepped closer, scanning the apartment. "You're shielding them? They are dangerous. They are the killers we have been finding."
Christopher met his gaze. "I'm doing my job. You want to search, get the paperwork."
Zuekh smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "We both know due process is a ghost story now."
His hand waved.
The men surged in.
---
Scene – Rooftops and Running
Brendon hit the ground first, rolling into the alleyway behind the apartment. His bones absorbed the shock like a coil unwinding. Matt landed next, less gracefully — groaning, clutching his shoulder, but alive.
"Come on!" Brendon barked, already moving.
They ran through the maze of narrow paths between buildings. Pipes, fences, dumpsters — all blurs under the rain-soaked moonlight. Brendon was faster now, far beyond his usual speed. Matt struggled to keep pace.
"I can't—" Matt hissed, slipping.
Brendon turned, scooped him up with one arm, and kept running. His primal form was built for this — agility, endurance, and strength all dialed up.
Behind them, they heard the chaos: shouts, sirens, the low thrum of surveillance drones.
"We need cover!" Matt gasped.
"I know just the place," Brendon said, cutting into a dead-end alley.
Matt blinked. "That's—"
Brendon slammed his foot against a utility panel, pried it open, and yanked a hidden lever.
A section of wall slid sideways.
"Old smuggler route. From before I went straight," he said.
They disappeared inside.
The wall shut behind them.
---
The Interrogation
Back at the apartment, Zuekh stood in the center of the ransacked living room, watching a team scan the space with luminol and scent trackers. Nothing.
Christopher sat calmly on the couch, arms folded.
Zuekh tilted his head. "You've changed, Christopher. Once, you would've hunted them with me."
"I've seen what happens to the ones you hunt," Christopher replied.
Zuekh walked over. Sat beside him, far too close.
"You ever wonder why I'm still in charge?" he asked. "After everything. All the noise. All the blood."
"I try not to think about garbage."
Zuekh chuckled. "Because I clean up the messes no one else will. Because I know what society doesn't want to see."
He leaned in.
"Brendon will bring you down with him. And what's his name again... uhh... Matt yeah! He too. You still have a choice."
"I've already made it."
Zuekh stood and nodded to a tech. "Track the signal. He had a burner device. Find the last ping."
He looked at Christopher one last time.
"Next time, I won't knock."
---
The Underground Route
The hidden tunnel was dark, dank, and old — bricks warped from time and leaks, cables running like veins through the ceiling.
Matt limped beside Brendon. "This leads where?"
"Storage lot. City depot that used to hide stolen tech before it was auctioned. No one checks it anymore."
Matt exhaled. "You still amaze me."
Brendon glanced at him. "You okay?"
Matt nodded slowly. "Just… thinking about Isla. If she's alive… if she really made that call…"
"She did," Brendon said. "The voice. The timing. It all fits."
"But why hide?"
Brendon's jaw clenched. "Because she knows what they'll do if they find her."
Matt swallowed hard.
"I'm going to find her," he said. "No matter what it takes."
Brendon placed a hand on his shoulder. "We will."
---
Zuekh's Hidden Facility
Somewhere deep in the city's industrial ruins, Zuekh entered a sealed room.
Inside: medical pods. Ten of them. Eight occupied.
In the center pod — the woman from the video: Isla.
Alive. Comatose.
Monitors blinked around her, reading vitals.
Zuekh walked to her side.
"She still has memories," the female scientist said. "Even sedated. It's interfering with the grafting."
"She was always strong," Zuekh murmured. "But even strong bones break. Given time."
He turned away.
"Prepare the memory cleanser. Again."
---
The Safehouse II
Later that night, Brendon and Matt reached the old depot — a steel graveyard of forgotten tech and rusted machinery.
Christopher joined them an hour later, his jacket wet from the rain, but his eyes sharp.
"They're escalating," he said. "Zuekh's off the leash. He doesn't care about visibility anymore."
Brendon was still in his primal form. He hadn't reverted yet — his breathing low and slow like a wild animal post-hunt.
"You good?" Christopher asked.
Brendon nodded. "Not ready to shift back yet. It helps me think."
Matt sat on a crate, staring at the damp floor.
"I've seen what they've done," he said quietly. "They took Isla's body… but I think she took back her mind. Maybe only in pieces. But it's her."
Brendon sat beside him.
"I believe it too. But we need a plan now."
Christopher tapped a USB against the crate. "I got something."
Brendon looked up.
"The police database. A list of Clervaux funders, partners, and private contacts. With trace logs."
Matt raised his head.
Brendon growled a satisfied sound. "Then we need to start digging."
---
Elsewhere
Zuekh received a message on his terminal.
Subject 07 Showing Sign of Emotional Spike.
He smiled.
She was still fighting.
Good.
He tapped a button.
And the lights in Isla's pod dimmed again.