Chapter 20 - Raegan #2
“Magical artillery charged and positioned at designated coordinates,” one subordinate responds.
“Infiltration teams confirm defensive positions compromised.”
"Casualty projections?" Mordaunt asks.
"Initial strike should eliminate seventy percent of defensive capabilities. Follow-up waves will target civilian populations to break resistance."
"Acceptable losses on our side?"
A younger officer steps forward with a tablet. "Commander, the forward units you're proposing for the first wave. They're mostly new recruits. The disgruntled pack members we pulled from the eastern territories. They haven't completed full combat training yet."
Mordaunt doesn't even glance at the officer. "That's precisely why they go first. Test Grayhide's defensive capabilities with expendable assets. Save our veteran forces for the primary objectives."
The casual dismissal of his own fighters makes my wolf snarl silently. Through my psychic abilities, I sense the young officer's horror—quickly suppressed—and the resigned acceptance from others in the room. This isn't the first time Mordaunt has thrown recruits into danger.
"But sir, these are people who came to us seeking—"
"Seeking what? Purpose? They'll serve their purpose by revealing enemy positions.
" Mordaunt finally looks at the officer, and his psychic presence radiates cold indifference.
"Their sacrifice ensures our success. That's more value than they provided to their previous packs. Now. Casualty projections?”
“Initial strike should eliminate seventy percent of defensive capabilities. Follow-up waves will target civilian populations to break resistance.”
“And our special weapon demonstration?”
“The omega will be captured during the initial assault. Her abilities, combined with our magical arsenal and the Amanzite we acquire, will demonstrate our power to any remaining resistance.”
Mordaunt continues briefing his forces, revealing attack timing, target priorities, weapon capabilities our defenders need to know about.
The casual way they discuss mass murder makes my wolf instincts rage. But I force myself to memorize every detail, every specification, every timeline our forces need to survive.
But as I shift back to wolf and prepare to withdraw with this intelligence, my psychic abilities detect something that changes everything about my mission parameters.
There’s another prisoner here. Someone being held in the lower levels whose emotional signature feels familiar—not resigned or broken like a long-term captive, but actively maintaining mental resistance.
Following the sensation through building infrastructure, I work my way down to what must be a detention area designed specifically for holding shifters. The cells use magical containment systems that would prevent transformation and escape.
Through ventilation grates, I see holding cells arranged in a secure wing. Most are empty, but one holds a figure I recognize from pack meetings. Not a border scout—one of our intelligence specialists who disappeared during a diplomatic mission weeks ago.
She’s alive but injured. From the looks of it, they’ve been interrogating her. The poor shewolf is bloodied and beaten.
My mission parameters focus on finding Mordaunt and gathering tactical intelligence. Prisoner rescue isn’t part of the plan, and attempting it would compromise everything I’ve learned.
But leaving pack members behind violates everything I believe about loyalty and honor. The wolf inside me rebels against abandoning someone who risked everything in service to our people.
The detention area has lighter security than the command center, but it’s still dangerous.
I could disable the nearby guards using psychic abilities—project confusion or fear to clear the area temporarily.
But that would alert the entire complex to my presence and make extraction far more difficult.
The practical choice is to take the intelligence I’ve gathered and leave. One life against information that could save hundreds during their assault.
But abandoning pack members feels like abandoning part of myself, and I’ve already pushed my abilities beyond safe limits. What’s a little more risk to save someone who deserves rescue?
I wait for guards to reach the far end of their patrol route, then drop from the ventilation system into the corridor. My wolf form moves silently on concrete floors, paws making no sound that might alert distant patrols.
The first guard never sees me coming. I project overwhelming confusion into his mind—not violent thoughts that might cause him to call for help, but simple disorientation that leaves him unconscious but breathing.
The second guard turns at the sound of his partner falling. I flood his thoughts with primal terror—not rational fear that he might overcome, but the kind of panic that makes thinking impossible and survival instincts take over.
He flees rather than fights, abandoning his post to escape whatever nightmare I’ve planted in his head.
The lock mechanisms respond to mental manipulation as I replicate authorized access codes. Our intelligence specialist looks up as I open her cell door.
“Raegan?” she whispers.
We’re leaving, I tell her through the bond. Can you move?
“Yes, but I don’t think I can shift. I’m too exhausted.”
Stay close and follow my lead.
We make it halfway to the exit before alarms begin blaring throughout the complex. Someone discovered the unconscious guards, or maybe the guard who fled thought to trigger something.
“Breach in detention level. All units respond immediately. Priority target may be attempting escape.”
My cover is blown. What started as a stealth infiltration becomes a running battle where survival depends on speed and overwhelming force.
I cover the prisoner as she stumbles ahead of me. My psychic abilities feel overcharged, enhanced by desperation and Amanzite energy flowing far beyond safe limits.
Guards pour into corridors from both ends with their weapons raised. I project waves of confusion while using mental force to slam security doors shut behind us.
The effort tears something inside me. Blood runs freely from my nose, and my vision goes spotty as psychic abilities burn through energy faster than the Amanzite can provide.
We fight our way up through the building using emergency stairs and maintenance corridors. The intelligence specialist moves well despite her injuries, driven by determination to reach our own lines with the information she’s protected.
My psychic attacks become more aggressive with each obstacle. Projecting terror into enemy's minds. Overloading electronic systems. Creating false sensory input that sends guards running in the wrong directions.
But each use of power costs more than the last, and my body rebels against the strain.
We reach ground level as Thornridge forces organize a coordinated response. Spotlights sweep approaches to all exits. Radio chatter coordinates blocking positions at every possible escape route.
“Building surrounded,” a voice announces over their communication system. “Priority target must not escape alive.”
Main exits are blocked by armed teams, but I remember the drainage pipe I used to enter. Storm systems run beneath the entire complex, offering escape routes they might not monitor as carefully.
We reach the fence line as search teams close in from multiple directions. I use the last reliable psychic energy to create false images—shadow figures running in opposite directions to divide their attention.
The diversion works long enough for us to reach the drainage pipe, and we emerge outside the compound as Thornridge forces focus their search on the wrong areas. The false images are fading rapidly, but they’ve bought precious time to escape immediate pursuit.
We run across open ground as dawn breaks over the mountains. Behind us, the fortress continues its preparation for war, unaware that its plans are no longer secret and its timeline has been compromised.
I’ve found Mordaunt. Learned about their weapons.
Discovered their true timeline and targeting priorities.
Rescued valuable intelligence personnel.
And witnessed firsthand how Mordaunt treats his own people—disposable resources to be sacrificed for tactical advantage.
The disgruntled pack members he recruited, who promised purpose and belonging, are nothing more than cannon fodder to him.
But the cost of pushing my abilities beyond safe limits might be higher than I realized. My vision goes fuzzy as we reach the extraction point, and I collapse just as our backup team arrives.
The last thing I see before unconsciousness takes me is the horizon, where Thornridge forces will soon launch their assault on everything I’m fighting to protect.