The black wolf hit the concrete with a wet crack. Blood spread, moon-lit, almost silver.
Lily's knees buckled—one step forward before Victor's rifle swung to her chest.
"Ah-ah," he murmured, finger kissing the trigger. "Mourn later."
Kade strained against his chains, wrists bleeding. "Lily, run—"
A guard drove a boot into Kade's ribs. Air whooshed out; the room swallowed his groan.
Outside the open dome, wind howled like a warning.
Victor tilted his chin. Two guards strode toward the back door—toward the boulder, toward the twins.
Lily's heart slammed against bone. She lifted the flare gun hidden at her thigh and fired straight into the telescope mirror.
White phosphorus exploded. Red sparks showered. The guards yelled, arms over faces.
She dropped the spent gun, sprinted for her father.
He lay still, flank torn, breath a ragged whistle. She pressed her palm to the wound—hot, too hot.
His eyes opened a slit, gold piercing gold. A low growl rumbled—protective, even now.
"Hold on," she whispered.
Bootsteps circled. Rifle barrels glinted through the smoke.
Victor's voice cut in, calm. "Chain her."
Hands seized her arms, yanked her upright. Cold metal snapped around her wrists—same chains, different night.
The guards dragged her beside Kade. Their shoulders bumped; heat flared where skin met skin.
Kade's whisper barely stirred the air. "Lever—again. Drops the whole shutter."
She flicked her eyes up. The emergency lever still hung loose, one bolt dangling. One hard pull could send tons of iron crashing.
Victor knelt, wiped wolf blood from his shoes with a handkerchief, then signaled the guards. "Fetch the pups."
The men disappeared through the rear doorway.
Lily's chest caved. She twisted, chains clanging useless.
Kade leaned in, breath warm against her ear. "Shift. Together. Now."
Her human skin prickled; the wolf inside clawed, frantic. But steel rings bit too tight—no room for paws to grow.
She shook her head once.
Kade's eyes narrowed. He slid his chained wrist over hers, skin to skin. Heat pulsed—mate-bond spark, bright as the flares.
"Feel me," he breathed.
Power surged—like jumping a battery. Her heartbeat synced with his, strong, steady.
Victor turned, tablet in hand. "Silver-eyed children. Rare. Valuable." His smile was all enamel. "Thank you for delivering them."
Lily spat blood onto his polished shoes.
He sighed, wiped. "Still feral."
From outside, small feet scuffled on gravel. Daisy's voice, high and afraid: "Momma?"
Finn's whimper followed.
Lily's vision tunneled.
The guards reappeared, each holding a twin under the arms like kittens.
Daisy kicked, connected with a shin. The guard swore, grip tightening. Finn bit the other guard's thumb—metal taste, yelp.
Pride flashed through Lily—hot, desperate.
Victor extended his arms. "Bring them."
The men strode forward.
Ten paces. Five.
Kade's thumb pressed Lily's wrist—three quick taps. Countdown.
Three.
Two.
One.
He lunged upright, chains ripping the floor bolt free with a shriek of metal. The links whipped like flail, crashing into the nearest guard's knees. Bone cracked; the man crumpled, howling.
Lily dropped her weight, rolled beneath the second guard's rifle. She came up inside his reach, chains looping his neck. She yanked; he stumbled, gasping.
Her father's wolf stirred, haunches twitching. He dragged himself to his feet, blood dripping, and positioned between the twins and chaos.
Victor staggered back, tablet clattering. "Shoot the wolf!" Rifles swung toward the black fur.
Lily flung her chained wrists upward, catching the lever.
She pulled.
Metal screamed. Gears snapped.
The dome shutter broke free—massive iron crescent—plummeting.
Guards scattered.
Victor dived sideways.
The shutter crashed onto the telescope, crushing lenses, sending iron shards skittering across the floor like deadly coins.
Dust bloomed, thick as fog.
Through the haze, Lily spotted the twins pressed against the wall, her father shielding them with his body.
She sprinted, chains dragging.
A guard rose from debris, rifle leveled.
Kade vaulted the wreckage, tackled him. They rolled, fists flashing.
Lily reached the twins, dropped to her knees. "Hold me."
Small arms circled her neck. She wrapped the chains around all three of them, a clumsy cocoon.
Her father nudged her shoulder—gentle, urgent. His eyes flicked to the open roof. Moonlight poured in, silver and absolute. Understanding flared.
She closed her eyes, let the moon call.
Fur rippled across her skin. Bones cracked, re-formed. The chains strained—then snapped, links popping like buttons. She stood on four paws, teeth bared.
Beside her, Kade shifted mid-fight—clothes tearing, wolf erupting. He sank fangs into the guard's rifle arm; bone snapped; weapon clattered.
Victor scrambled upright, face bleeding dust. He yanked a pistol from his ankle.
Lily stepped between the gun and her pups.
Low growls vibrated through the concrete—three wolves, one wounded, all furious.
Victor's hand shook. "Back!"
The pistol wavered—then centered on Daisy's head.
Time froze. From the doorway, a new figure appeared—tall, coat flapping, hair white as ice.
The Cousin Leader. The pack elder who had turned Lily away. He held a tranq rifle steady on Victor. "Lower it, human."
Victor's eyes darted. "You're paid."
"Not enough for this." The elder fired.
A dart bloomed in Victor's neck.
He blinked, fired once—bullet whining into the ceiling—then crumpled, twitching.
Silence fell, broken only by panting breaths.
The elder lowered the rifle, gaze sweeping the wreckage. "Road's clear. Go, before more come."
Lily shifted back, human and naked, knees trembling. She gathered the twins, pressing their faces to her shoulders so they wouldn't see the blood.
Kade rose, also human, chest heaving. He met her eyes—question, apology, hope—all in one look.
Her father collapsed, shift fading. Man again, gray-haired, side torn open. She knelt, pressed her palm to the wound. Heat still leaked.
He lifted a shaking hand, touched her cheek. "Go home, little moon."
Tears blurred the room. "Not without you."
His smile was small, fierce. "I'll follow."
The elder tossed Kade a blanket, then a set of truck keys. "Service road. Five minutes."
Kade wrapped Lily first, then the twins.
They stepped over Victor's limp body.
Outside, night air tasted of pine and freedom.
The elder's truck waited, engine idling.
They climbed in—Lily, Kade, twins, her father half-conscious across their laps.
Tires spat gravel.
Down the mountain they flew, headlights off, moon guiding. At the base, Kade glanced at Lily. "Where to?"
She looked at the twins asleep against her ribs, at her father's blood soaking the blanket, at the man who had once run and now sat bleeding beside her.
She drew a breath that felt like the first in years. "Forward."
The truck crested the last ridge—and braked hard.
Across the valley, headlights formed a glowing noose, dozens of vehicles speeding toward the mountain.
Not the police.
Victor's private army.
And at their center, a single black SUV with roof lights spinning red.
The elder's voice dropped. "They brought the tracker hounds." From the back seat, her father's eyes fluttered open. He whispered one word: "Portal."
Lily's pulse stumbled.
Kade's hand found hers—steady, sure.
The valley below boiled with approaching lights.
Her father's blood dripped onto her bare foot—warm, insistent.
He grabbed her wrist, weak but urgent. "Cave… only way… erase scent."
She met Kade's gaze.
He nodded once.
The truck engine growled, ready.
Behind them, the first howl rose—hunter hounds, closing fast.
Lily squeezed Kade's fingers. "Drive."
He slammed the accelerator.
They shot toward the valley—and the waiting guns.
Just as the wheels left the ridge, a low rumble cracked the sky.
She looked back. The mountain peak exploded—orange fire blooming where the observatory once stood.
Debris rained like shooting stars.
Her father's eyes closed. "They think we're inside."
Smoke billowed, hiding moonlight.
Kade didn't slow.
They plunged into the dark valley—straight toward the circle of lights that still closed in, unaware.
Lily's last sight of the explosion: a single figure limping out of the flames, coat burning, hair singed—Victor, eyes open, smiling.
Then the road dipped, and the night swallowed him.
She faced forward, heart hammering.
The hounds kept coming.
The portal lay twenty miles west.
Fuel gauge: half.
Blood scent: everywhere.
She tightened her grip on the wheel.
"Hold on," she whispered to the sleeping twins.
The truck roared into the black.
Behind them, Victor's laugh carried on the wind—closer than it should be.
And in the rear-view mirror, his burning silhouette re-appeared on the ridge, raising something long and metallic that caught the moon.
A rocket launcher.
Light flared.
The missile screamed after them, red tail slicing darkness.
Lily yanked the wheel hard right.
Tires skidded.
The world tilted.
Metal shrieked.
The truck flipped—once, twice—crashed roof-first into the ditch.
Glass burst.
Dust settled.
Inside, only silence.
From the ridge, Victor lowered the weapon, smile gone cold.
He started down the slope.