The mill's doors gave way with a splintering crash and loud noise as the hunters poured in like a flood of shadows – all dressed in their dark jackets, holding their silver-tipped or in some cases silver-laced weapons glinting under the fractured moonlight. Drew's heart thundered horribly as if it could be seen, the curse in his blood howling within him for release as he quickly shoved Elena behind a rusted loom. Her dagger was already drawn, her green eyes scanning the chaos with a predator's focus. She was in a mood to fight, in this case; for the man that she barely knew and his pack. She wasn't just a hunter—she was a warrior being made to fight for her very life and the life of someone who her heart was telling her meant something that future life's meaning depended on and that made her more dangerous than ever.
"Stay close," Drew growled, his claws extending as he crouched low. The curse though suppressed still pulsed more, urging him to tear through everything in front of him—the hunters, his pack, even this new found lady-Elena. He clenched his fists, trying to breathe more slowly while fighting for control over the state of his mind and body. *Not now. Not here.*
The air was thick with the tang of gunpowder and the sharp bite of silver. Lena's scent-masking magic-skill shimmer flickered, barely but slowly holding against the hunters' tracking. Rhona had vanished with Lena toward the tunnels, while the Ezekiel and Ralph stood guard at the entrace. Still Drew could hear the girl's panicked breathing echoing through the mill. Matthais was nowhere in sight, and that set Drew's nerves on edge. The elder was too cunning to just disappear. Right in the midst of an attack, no coordination, no communication, no notice.
"Three on the left," Elena whispered as she scanned the area, her voice steady despite the chaos. She pointed to a trio of hunters advancing with crossbows, their movements eerily synchronized. Remembering how they use to execute such manevuers. "They'll flank us. Take the high ground," She said.
Drew shot her a warning look and said "You don't give orders here, hunter."
"Then die," she snapped, already moving toward a rickety staircase leading to the mill's upper catwalk, preparing for the next steps her former team mates would take. Drew cursed under his breath but followed, his boots pounding the warped metal. She was right, and he hated it, most especially as he would have to depend on her intuition.
A crossbow bolt whizzed past, grazing Drew's shoulder. The silver laced on it burned like acid as it touched Drew's skin. The curse then roared in response, his vision tinting red. He stumbled, catching himself on the railing as Elena grabbed his arm, steadying him. Her touch was a jolt, anchoring him against the feral tide.
"Focus, wolf," she said, her eyes fierce. "You fall apart, we all do."
He wanted to snarl, to push her away, but the truth in her words kept him grounded. And it somehow shocked him how this stranger now needed his help. They reached the catwalk, giving them a view of the hunters below— about six of them now, spreading out, their radios crackling with orders. Drew's sharp ears caught a name: *Voss*. Elena's head snapped up, her face paling for a split second. That was her name, wasn't it? Her team was hunting her now, too. How odd.
Before he could question her, a scream tore through the mill—Lena's. Drew's blood ran cold. "Rhona!" he shouted into the comms, but static answered. The tunnels weren't far, but the hunters were faster than he'd expected. He couldn't even see the Ezekiel duo.
Elena was already moving, leaping from the catwalk to a lower platform, her dagger flashing as she took out a hunter with a single, aimed and precise strike. Drew followed, his claws raking through another's armor before they could aim their guns at him. The curse made him faster and stronger than he should be. And yes, the hunters weren't trained for an out of ordinary werewolf. But it was a double-edged blade, each kill feeding the darkness inside him and almost making him to go beserk.
They fought their way to the tunnel entrance, a rusted grate half-hidden behind a pile of crates. Rhona was there, her arm bleeding from a fresh wound, shielding Lena, who clutched another vial, her face streaked with tears. "They're everywhere," Rhona panted, her eyes blazing. "We can't hold them. They have gotten Ezekiel and Ralph."
"Then we run," Drew said, his voice rough. He glanced at Elena, who was scanning the shadows, her dagger still dripping red from her former colleagues blood. "You know their moves, hunter. Now Get us out of here."
Elena hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and the tunnel. "There's a safehouse two miles east, old docks. They won't look there. But you have to trust me and listen to whatever I tell you."
"Trust you?" Rhona spat, her claws twitching. "You're one of them! Just finish their job here and right now."
"I am not anymore," Elena said, her voice hard with slight regret. She met Drew's eyes, and something unspoken passed between them—dangerous, electric and quite as if they were now partners in crime.
Before Drew could decide and move to action, a low chuckle echoed from the shadows. Matthais slowly stepped into the dim light, his eyes glinting with something darker than amusement. "Such a touching moment," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "But the hunters aren't our only problem at this moment."
Drew's stomach twisted. Matthais's scent was felt wrong—tainted with something strange to their nostril even for a human, like the air in Blackwood Forest. The elder's gaze locked on Elena, then slid to Drew, a knowing smirk curling his lips. "The curse is waking, boy. And it's calling to her."
A hunter's shout cut through the tension, followed by the hiss of another silver bolt. Drew shoved Elena into the tunnel, pulling Rhona and Lena with him, leaving the bodies of their two former and now dead pack members. Matthais lingered, his smirk never fading, as if he knew something they didn't. Which felt strange since the hunters were getting closer.
As they fled into the darkness, the curse whispered again, its voice louder, clearer: *The alpha's blood will break or bind.* Drew's heart pounded. Whatever Matthais was playing at, whatever Elena was hiding, one thing was certain: their pack of the Damned was running out of time.