Lyra's POV
The roof door burst open, slamming against the concrete wall with a deafening clang.
Rain.
It hit me instantly, a freezing, torrential sheet of water that soaked through my silk robe and plastered my hair to my face. The wind howled, a gale-force beast that threatened to sweep us off the edge of the high-rise.
"Where's the chopper?" Leo shouted over the wind, wiping rain from his glasses.
I scanned the sky. Gray clouds. Lightning forking in the distance. And... nothing.
No chopper. No rescue.
"Blocked," I realized, the word tasting like bile. "Jax jammed the signal. Or shot it down."
We were alone.
"Mommy." Cyra tugged on my sleeve. Her voice was small, barely audible over the storm. She pointed to the edge of the roof.
Shadows were rising.
They didn't climb like men. They skittered up the side of the building like spiders, claws digging into the concrete, hauling massive, hulking bodies over the parapet. Four of them. Seven. Ten.
They weren't just wolves. They were abominations. Mange-ridden fur, muscles that bulged unnaturally under gray skin, eyes glowing with a toxic, chemical green instead of natural gold or amber.
Rogues. But twisted. Enhanced.
"Get behind me," I ordered, dropping the duffel bags. I racked the slide of my Glock. "Leo, formation Delta. Aries, watch the flank. Cyra, stay low."
"But Mom—" Aries started, raising his tiny crossbow.
"Do as I say!" I screamed, the command ripping from my throat.
They scrambled back, huddling against the ventilation unit. I stood between them and the monsters, a lone woman in a silk robe against a pack of genetically modified nightmares.
I didn't tremble. I didn't fear. I calculated.
Ten targets. Seventeen rounds in the mag. One spare clip in the bag. Two flashbangs.
Mathematics of survival.
The largest wolf—the Alpha of this twisted pack—stepped forward. He shifted, bones cracking and reshaping until a man stood there. Naked, scarred, his veins pulsing with black sludge.
"Lyra Blackwood," he rasped. His voice sounded like wet gravel. "The boss sends his regards."
"Go to hell."
I didn't wait for him to monologue. I fired.
Bang. Bang.
Double tap. Chest and head.
The bullets hit him. He staggered back, black blood spraying. But he didn't fall. The wounds hissed, steam rising as the flesh knitted itself back together in seconds.
Regeneration. Fast. Too fast.
"Silver doesn't work so well anymore, sweetheart," he grinned, revealing rows of serrated shark-like teeth. "Upgrade."
He lunged.
I moved. Not the graceful dance of the Shadow Lord, but the desperate scramble of a mother. I dropped to my knees, sliding across the wet gravel of the roof, ducking under his claws. I jammed the barrel of the gun into his knee—joint, not muscle—and pulled the trigger.
Bone shattered. He howled, collapsing.
"Run!" I yelled to the kids. "To the fire escape!"
I didn't look to see if they obeyed. I was too busy dying.
Three more wolves were on me. A claw swiped at my head. I ducked, but not fast enough. Pain exploded in my shoulder as talons tore through silk and skin.
Warm blood washed down my arm.
Reflex. Pivot. Kick.
I slammed my heel into a wolf's throat, crushing the windpipe. I spun, firing blindly behind me. A yelp.
But there were too many.
They weren't trying to kill me, I realized with a jolt of horror. They were herding me. Pushing me away from the ventilation unit.
Away from the kids.
"No!" I pivoted, trying to break through the line.
A heavy blow struck me from behind. It felt like being hit by a truck. I flew through the air, crashing into a puddle. My gun skittered away, sliding into a drain.
I gasped, trying to inhale, but my ribs were on fire. Broken. Definitely broken.
I looked up.
The Alpha I'd shot was limping towards the kids. Aries was standing in front of his siblings, his little crossbow raised. He looked so brave. So foolishly, heartbreakingly brave.
"Don't touch them!" I screamed. I tried to push myself up, but my arms shook and gave way.
"Mom!" Leo yelled.
Then, everything slowed down.
A black SUV—how in hell did they get an SUV up here? No, a transport drone. A heavy-lifting cargo drone dropped a secure container pod onto the roof with a heavy thud.
The side opened.
"Get in," the Alpha growled at them.
Aries looked at the container. Then he looked at Leo.
I saw it. A microscopic nod. A twitch of the fingers.
Code 7.
The Trojan Horse.
My heart stopped. No. No, they were too young. It was too dangerous.
"Don't!" I wheezed, blood bubbling in my mouth. "Leo, no!"
Leo looked at me. His glasses were crooked. He looked terrified, perfectly, convincingly terrified. "I'm sorry, Mom," he sobbed. "We surrender! Don't hurt her!"
He dropped his bag. He took Cyra's hand.
And walked into the container.
"Good little bastards," the Alpha sneered. He slammed the door shut. The lock hissed, sealing them in.
"NO!"
The scream tore my throat raw. I surged forward, adrenaline overriding the broken ribs, the torn shoulder, the exhaustion. I was a banshee. A force of nature.
I tackled the Alpha just as the drone engines whined to life. I clawed at his face, my nails digging into his eyes. I wanted to rip him apart. I wanted to eat his heart.
He backhanded me.
Casual. Dismissive. Like swatting a fly.
I hit the concrete hard. My head bounced. Darkness infringed on my vision, black vignettes eating the world.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard the drone lift off. I rolled onto my stomach, reaching out. My hand grasped empty air.
"My... babies..."
The drone rose into the storm, carrying my whole world with it.
I watched, helpless, as it banked towards the east.
And then I saw it.
On the reinforced glass of the container window, a small finger was drawing something in the condensation.
A simple, jagged shape.
X.
Target Acquired.
Cyra didn't look scared. She looked bored.
They weren't victims. They were infiltrators.
But they were five years old.
The Alpha walked over to me. He loomed above, blocking out the rain. He didn't kill me. He leaned down, picking up something from the ground.
Cyra's stuffed rabbit.
It was wet. Muddy. Stained with my blood.
He dropped it on my face.
"Tell Damon Storm," he whispered, his breath smelling of decay, "that the Vane family collects its debts."
He turned and walked away, transforming mid-step into a wolf, leaping off the roof into the shadows.
I lay there. The rain hammered against my skin, washing away the blood but not the cold. The terrible, numbing cold.
I clutched the rabbit to my chest. It smelled like lavender and Cyra's milk-shampoo.
"Idiot," I choked out, a sob racking my broken body. "You idiots."
I closed my eyes.
Damon.
The name floated in the darkness.
Help me.
Consciousness slipped away, leaving me alone in the storm.