Chapter 10 #2
Gold and red light rippled over the estate as the wards heaved, then collapsed, disintegrating with a faint pop. An instant later, alarms howled, ugly and urgent, followed by the sound of scraping metal as thick slats began sliding over windows and doors in a slow-motion cascade.
“Fuck,” Dominic muttered under his breath. Then louder, “Go! Go! Go!”
Saint and Kennedy hit the back entrance hard, slipping inside before the shutters finished closing. Another wolf vanished through a side door just as steel slammed down behind him.
Swearing again, he grabbed Chapel and shoved her ahead of him. “Move!”
They ran, boots digging into the soft earth as the house sealed itself with methodical precision. Inside, he detected movement, vampires reacting to those who had managed to breach the walls.
“There!” he growled, pointing to an open window ahead of them.
Turning on a burst of speed to outrun the security slats, Chapel dove through first, crashing through the glass and sending shards raining down around her. Dominic followed, hitting the floor hard and rolling to his feet as the metal slabs slammed down behind him.
For a heartbeat, time stopped, then everything exploded into chaos and violence.
Vampires rushed them in waves—too many to count, not enough to matter. Instead of taking the time to shift, he lifted a hand and crushed the first group into the wall with a concussive blast that shattered drywall and bone alike.
Screams reverberated through the vast rooms, punctuated by the thundering of footsteps and the guttural snarls of wolves. Furniture toppled and splintered as bodies crashed through empty halls.
The scent of blood and something wilder hung thick in the air, but beneath the stench, he detected something familiar.
Shifters, weak but alive.
He didn’t know where they were being held exactly, but he could sense their closeness. And there were far more of them than there should have been.
Pivoting, he released a second blast as more vampires rushed forward, fangs bared, eyes wild, their speed blurring the edges of the room. Limbs bent at impossible angles as the bloodsuckers slammed into the walls before dropping to the floor with wet thuds.
Saint appeared beside him, claws out as he tore through a couple of vampires with brute strength instead of magic. In the entryway, Kennedy ducked beneath a swiping arm, coming up with a serrated blade that gleamed as it sliced through flesh, spraying crimson across the wallpaper.
Claws, fangs, magic, blood. The pack moved as one, weaving through the chaos with practiced precision.
Dominic’s magic flared and receded, carving through the melee. Bodies collided. Bones crunched. Skin ripped.
In the mouth of the corridor, a lanky bloodsucker lunged at Chapel, only to be slammed aside with a well-placed dagger to the temple. Wrenching her weapon free, she swiped the blade against her outer thigh before diving at the next threat.
Shouts and snarls blended, ringing through the halls as the battle progressed in every direction.
His team moved like they always did—no wasted motion, no shouted commands. Where Dominic cleared space, the pack held it. Where the pack stalled, Dominic broke the line.
Thierry and Saint dropped a new wave of vampires, their claws flashing in synchronization. Chapel and Kennedy darted in behind them, catching stragglers before they could regroup, while the four wolves prowled the perimeter to barricade the exits.
Every inch of forward movement was hard earned as they pressed deeper into the manor, leaving a trail of broken bodies and shattered glass in their wake.
The vampires, desperate now, fought with renewed ferocity, but the pack’s resolve never wavered.
Each of them instinctively protected the others, always advancing, never allowing the enemy to retake ground.
Nearing the dimly lit corridor of the east wing, his focus sharpened, the faint scent he’d been following growing stronger, more pungent.
“This way,” he said, and the pack adjusted instantly.
The vampires guarding that wing fought harder. Smarter. That was enough to confirm his suspicions, but it also told him something else important.
The shifters they had come to save weren’t blood bags.
They were inventory.
A single, reinforced door loomed at the end of the passage, unremarkable except for the faint shimmer around it. Dominic split through the wards with ease, power flaring hot as the door came apart in his hands.
The room beyond was dark, dank, and it stank of wet fur and fear. Cells lined the walls—some reinforced, some barely more than wire cages.
And there were dozens of shifters. Some had already succumbed to their injuries. Others looked on the brink of death. Several sported puncture marks and bloodied necks.
Only a few had the strength to call out or reach for him through the bars as he started moving down the rows.
Selected.
That was the word that lodged in his mind.
These shifters weren’t there by random chance. They had been chosen.
He just didn’t know why.