Chapter Eleven
The morning after smelled of ash and rain, the city’s skyline hazed by storm clouds waiting to break.
Rune sat on the edge of the bed, boots laced, shirt clinging damp to his shoulders.
Klarissa stood at the window, her silhouette framed by muted gray light, while Kamon strapped on his holsters with a precision that betrayed nerves he would never admit aloud.
They were subdued, every word weighted by the knowledge of what was coming. Today was the day—the morning of war.
The quiet was broken by the sharp buzz of Kamon’s phone. He frowned, glancing at the screen, and his jaw tightened. “It’s them.”
Rune knew immediately who. Their parents.
His gut clenched as Kamon answered, switching to speaker.
The room erupted instantly with furious voices—accents thick, words tumbling over each other, their mother and father both yelling in rapid succession.
Demands. Anger. Fear. Neither son could get a word in.
“You had better be calling to tell us that you’ve fixed everything with your mate,” their father roared. Did you fix it? Did you?”
Their mother’s voice cut sharper, accusing and pleading all at once. “Where is she? Where is Klarissa? I will not forgive until I see her. Show me!”
Rune and Kamon traded a look. Then, as if by silent agreement, Rune reached out, pulling Klarissa gently from the window and placing her squarely between them in the camera’s view.
The yelling ceased. For a beat, only the sound of static filled the line. Their parents’ faces softened, eyes widening with recognition and something like relief. Their mother pressed fingers to her lips, tears shimmering. Their father’s stern mouth trembled before he forced it back into a line.
“Daughter,” their mother said in halting English, thick with accent but clear enough. “We ... we are sorry for yelling just now. We were angry. Afraid. We thought you lost. Thought our sons had destroyed everything.”
Klarissa swallowed, her hand finding Rune’s as she leaned back into Kamon. “I understand. I was angry too. But we are together now. Whole. We didn’t break, not completely. We’re stronger than ever now.”
Their father exhaled shakily, his gaze sharpening. “You forgive them?”
“I do,” Klarissa said firmly. “I chose them. And I’ll keep choosing them.”
Tears slipped down their mother’s cheeks. “Then ... then we are glad. You are ours now. Our daughter.”
Klarissa opened her mouth, guilt tightening her throat. “I’m sorry for what Caruso did—”
Both Rune and Kamon shushed her gently at once, their hands squeezing hers, voices overlapping with quiet certainty. “No. Nothing to forgive. Not from you.”
Her mother nodded firmly through her tears. “Yes. Nothing. You are not him. You are ours.”
Rune felt the crushing weight of his parents’ disapproval ease. Kamon cleared his throat, but his voice cracked anyway. “We will bring her to you soon. A week, maybe two. When things settle here.”
His mother’s brows knit. “Settle? What you mean, settle?”
Rune’s mouth went dry. He answered because Kamon couldn’t. “We have joined a new Pride. We fight with them now. Protect with them. Their women are the heart, and Klarissa is ours.”
The silence stretched. Then their father’s laugh came, rough and unexpected. “A Pride. My sons, part of something great as I know they would be. Prestigious. Strong. I am proud.” His eyes glistened, though his smile stayed firm, and he winked. “Do not die before you bring her home.”
Rune barked a laugh through a throat that burned. “We won’t. We promise.”
Words tumbled then—love, fierce and clumsy.
Their mother telling Klarissa she wanted to braid her hair, to feed her, to hold her.
Their father swearing he would honor her as blood.
Klarissa’s tears matched theirs, her smile trembling but radiant.
They spoke until the line frayed with emotion, until Rune’s chest ached with the weight of what he had almost lost.
At last, their mother asked softly, “You promise. Soon. You bring her.”
Kamon nodded, pulling Klarissa close. “We promise.”
They signed off with whispered pledges, kisses pressed to the phone screen like old rituals.
Rune shut his eyes for a heartbeat, letting the warmth of it soak into the cracks of his chest. He prayed it would not be the last time.
No—he vowed it wouldn’t. He would survive this war, for her, for them, for all of it.
When the call ended, Klarissa turned to both brothers, cupping their faces. “We’ll go together. Soon.”
They kissed her, Rune whispering against her lips, “I love you.”
They headed into the Bat Cave, where everyone was already preparing.
Weapons were laid out, armor checked, voices low but steady with determination.
Klarissa stepped forward, taking control without hesitation.
She talked them through the canisters—how to deploy them, what to watch for—then laid out ammunition coated with anti-toxins, explaining how the compounds would counteract Caruso’s formulas.
Finally, she passed out small pill bottles.
“One before you leave,” she instructed, her voice crisp but calm.
“It will slow absorption of any airborne toxins. It won’t make you invincible, but it will buy us minutes instead of seconds.
If needed, bring anyone wounded who is not healing to me, and I will deal with them in the makeshift surgery we set up over in the corner. ”
She explained the science clearly, breaking down the reactions, the counteragents, the timing.
No detail was spared, but she kept it accessible, ensuring every fighter in the room understood what they carried and why, and that each person had the information on their phones.
Rune watched her, struck again by the brilliance in her mind, the way she combined sharp intellect with fierce courage. She wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
Kamon stepped close, murmuring, “We fight as one.” Rune nodded, the words anchoring him.
Then Rafe barreled through the door, breathless, his eyes wide with alarm. “Comms are down over the city!” he shouted. “It’s started.”
Everyone froze.
Kieran stepped forward, jaw like stone. “Where?”
Rafe’s voice cracked with the answer. “A private high school. A few blocks from here. High percentage of shifter children.”
The room fell silent. Horror coiled in Rune’s chest like barbed wire.
Liam cursed under his breath. “We thought it’d be Pride House. We were arrogant.”
“No,” Rune said, his voice flat and cold. “We underestimated him.”
Outside, sirens wailed. The war had come, not to their stronghold, but to their most vulnerable. And they had no choice but to meet it head-on.
****
Violet shoved small comm units into their hands to slide into their ears, the sleek design stamped with the mark of her satellite link. “These won’t cut out, won’t jam, and Caruso’s people can’t break them,” she said sharply. “You’ll hear each other, and you’ll hear Klarissa. No excuses.”
Everyone pressed the devices into their ears. A soft chime confirmed the connection, Klarissa’s calm voice flickering over the line. “Check. Can everyone hear me?”
Affirmatives rolled through the group. Kamon added his own, feeling the strange comfort of her voice wrapping around him even through static. She was their anchor now.
Orders fell into place quickly. The Drakes would remain behind to guard the building, its reinforced walls a fallback point if the city burned.
A handful of pack members were sent to secure the Pride House—though few still lingered there, it was bait enough to draw some of Caruso’s men away.
The main force, lean and lethal, turned toward the school.
Constant chatter filled Kamon’s ear as they advanced.
Klarissa relayed updates, Violet issued tactical adjustments, Ivan muttered about angles of approach.
Even Liam cracked jokes meant to cut through the tension.
But Kamon felt every step like a drumbeat in his chest. The school loomed ahead, and with it, the truth of war.
Inside, the corridors stank of metal and fear. Bodies lay strewn along the halls—teachers in civilian clothes, some shifter, some human. Kamon forced himself not to look too long. They had already given all they could.
Gunfire snapped them to attention. The Pride surged forward, meeting Caruso’s men in brutal silence. Blades flashed, claws tore, bullets spat from rifles. Kamon’s tiger roared in his blood, every strike meant to clear a path for the vulnerable.
A sudden movement—then a woman burst from around a corner, a man on her heels.
Her blouse was torn, lip split, bruise blooming across her cheek.
She stumbled toward them, eyes wide with shock.
Kamon lifted his rifle and shot the man in the head.
He dropped before he could catch the woman.
All three of the Hol brother’s stiffened, growls vibrating low in their throats, eyes fixed on her like she was prey. Hunger and something darker.
Kieran moved fast, planting himself in their path. His snarl snapped them back to reason, their heads jerking as if waking from a trance. Kamon saw it, understood what it meant, but there was no time to dwell.
The woman gasped, “Most of the kids—they’re safe. Barricaded in rooms, using methods and skills taught during lockdown drills. But the gym class—” She broke off, tears streaking her face. “They were exposed. Vulnerable.”
Kamon’s voice was steel. “Where?”
“Gymnasium, back wing.” She pointed with a shaking hand.
Jacob asked, grim, “These bodies?”
Her sob cracked. “Teachers. They ran from a staff meeting, tried to get back to their students. They met men in gas masks. Shifters fell fast. Humans too. Except—” she pressed a trembling hand to her chest— “I didn’t.
One or two others didn’t. We aren’t shifters, but whatever this shit is, some of us are immune. I don’t know why.”
Kamon didn’t waste breath on comfort. He nodded once. “Stay behind us. We’ll clear the way.”
They ran.
The gym doors crashed open under Mason’s shoulder.
Inside, silence first—then the muffled whimpers of children.
They found most of the class huddled in a storage room, eyes wide, clinging to one another.
Relief punched through the group, but it died quick.
Eight children and two teachers—every one of them shifters—were missing.
Before Kamon could react, the comms in his ear exploded with overlapping voices from elsewhere in the city. Victor’s voice came first, rough with exertion. “We’ve got hostiles at the south entrance to St. Brigid’s Shifter Hospital. They’re trying to breach the emergency ward!”
Gunfire crackled in the background, followed by Ivan’s snarl. “They came heavy—gas canisters, rifles, masks. But we’re holding the line.”
Victor added,, “Kids and newborns inside. Nurses barricaded the ICU. If this door goes, they’ll slaughter them all.”
Violet’s voice snapped like a whip. “Hold. Reinforcements are on route. Keep that entrance secure.”
Mason growled into the comm, “We can split, send half to support the lions—”
“No,” Violet cut him off. “We need to secure this school first and send a couple of the team to find these missing kids. More sites are opening up, and fire fights are happening everywhere, we are being spread thin. The hospital has backup. Those kids you’re standing over don’t.”
The weight of her command pressed down, but Kamon’s gut twisted.
He could hear the chaos through the comms—the thud of boots, the roar of lions in battle form, the screams of wounded men.
The bears were giving everything they had to keep that entrance closed, and the Pride could do nothing but trust them.
Kamon forced his focus back to the gym. Missing children. He tapped his comm. “Klarissa, we need your eyes. Eight kids, two adults, taken from the gym. Likely targeted.”
Static hissed back at him. No Klarissa.
He tried again. “Klarissa, respond. Now.” Nothing.
Then a new voice, shaky, cut across the channel. Josie. “She’s gone.”
The room froze.
Josie’s voice trembled. “I—I went to the bathroom. Morning sickness. When I came back ... she was gone.”
The weight of her words slammed through Kamon’s chest like a blade. Klarissa—missing. Children—taken. The city—burning on every front.
And the war had only just begun.