Chapter Twelve
The Bat Cave hummed with tension, a storm of voices and shifting bodies as shifters moved between weapon racks, comm consoles, and maps plastered with pins.
Klarissa stood at the central table, eyes sharp, directing traffic with a steady hand.
“Victor, Ivan get to St. Brigid’s Hospital.
They’re under heavy assault. Hold that entrance until the Holt brothers get reinforcements. ”
“On it,” Ivan growled, already pulling gear over his shoulders and running out, his brother on his tail, leaving her, Josie, and a bodyguard behind.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, sharp enough to cut through the chaos. Frowning, she pulled it free. The screen glowed with an unknown number.
Her stomach clenched. She swiped it open.
A video filled the screen. Eight children and two adults, all chained to a wall, bruised, bleeding.
Behind them loomed a concrete space—industrial, unforgiving.
As Klarissa’s breath caught, movement blurred on the screen.
Caruso stepped into view. Her father. He looked straight into the camera, straight at her.
“Daughter,” his voice rasped, cruel and calm. He raised a gun, pressed it against one of the adult’s temples. A teacher, by the look of the woman’s bloodied clothes. His smile widened. “Watch closely.”
The gun fired. The body slumped, lifeless, blood spraying against the wall.
The children screamed, high and raw. Caruso let the silence stretch before speaking again.
“I can do this all day. If you don’t want their blood on your hands, you will come to me.
Fulton Market District. Abandoned warehouse.
Fifteen minutes. Tell no one, or I’ll know. ”
An address flashed across the screen before the video ended.
Her hands shook, but she forced herself still. She looked around the room, at Josie perched on a bench with her hand on her belly, pale but alert. She heard voices—her mates, her friends, others—but couldn’t call out like she wanted to. They couldn’t know.
Fifteen minutes. She didn’t have a lot of time.
She slipped her hand into the pocket of her lab coat, fingers closing around the two objects inside it—an injector and a pen.
Quietly, she pulled the injector free, angled it against her thigh, and pressed the trigger.
The sting flared deep, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t alarm Josie by reacting.
Josie suddenly jumped to her feet, gagging. “Shit—I’m gonna be sick.” She hurried toward the bathroom, the guard the Alpha had assigned her trailing after her. Klarissa sent a small prayer skyward for small favors.
Perfect. Klarissa tucked the empty injector back, grabbed a pen and a slim notebook, and slipped toward the exit. Her heart thundered, but her steps never faltered. She took a car from the garage, driving hard through Chicago’s battered streets. The address burned in her mind.
She arrived with a minute to spare.
The warehouse loomed, shadows crawling across broken windows. Inside, the stench of rust and blood hit her first. Her father stood in front of the captives, his henchmen lining the walls. He glanced at the clock, then at her, and smirked. “You made it. Almost.”
He turned, raised his gun, and put a bullet in the other adult’s head. The children shrieked, crying out in fear. Three of them were cuffed across the face by his men, their screams cut short by pain.
Rage surged through her chest, hot and bitter. “You bastard.”
He laughed, stepping forward. “Language, daughter. Is this what you’ve become? Sleeping with those abominations? Whoring yourself out to lions and tigers?”
Her jaw clenched, but she lifted her chin. “They’re not abominations. They are my mates. Chosen by fate. Worthy. Unlike you.”
The blow came fast, the back of his hand splitting her lip. She tasted blood but refused to stumble. She smiled instead, a crimson grin. “That all you’ve got?”
Caruso circled her slowly, like a predator savoring its meal. “I raised you better than this. You could’ve been a queen at my side, brilliant and feared. Instead, you waste yourself on beasts. You think they’ll save you? They’ll die screaming, just like these children will.”
Her heart clenched, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Better to love beasts than to become a heartless monster.”
His eyes narrowed. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, pressing the cold muzzle of his gun to her temple. “You will give me the recipe. The perfected toxin. The one that strips beasts from bodies without killing the humans.”
“No.” Her voice was steel. “Never.”
The back of his hand slammed into her cheek. Pain blossomed white hot, but she held his gaze. Held his hate. She prayed silently, not to the fates, but to the bond she had with Rune and Kamon. Please. I need you. I love you. Forever.
Something shifted deep in her chest. A snap, sharp and sudden, like a cord reforging itself. Power surged, warmth flooding through her veins. She could feel them—her mates—like fire on the edge of her mind. They were coming.
Caruso didn’t notice. He shoved her toward the children, waving his gun lazily. One of his men struck a small boy across the back. The boy crumpled, crying.
Klarissa moved before she thought, stepping in front of the group. “Stop!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Enough!”
Her father cocked his head, mocking. “Finally. Some sense.”
“You think this makes you strong?” Klarissa shot back, her voice shaking but clear. “Killing teachers, threatening children? That’s not strength—it’s cowardice.”
His smirk faltered, just for a second, before twisting cruel again. “Cowardice? No. Strategy. You always underestimated me, girl. I always thought you were smarter. But you never understood power. Fear is power. Fear bends knees. Fear builds empires.”
Fear. The word rang inside her, and she almost laughed.
She remembered being a child in his house, hiding under her bed as his rage shook the walls.
She remembered the bruises she covered, the silence she kept.
And she remembered the day she left, swearing she would never be that terrified little girl again.
She had survived him once—she would survive him now.
“You don’t scare me,” she said, her lip bleeding. “Not anymore.”
Caruso sneered, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath. “Liar. I see the tremble in your hands, the quiver in your voice. You’re still the frightened little girl I broke. And I’ll break you again. Only this time, there won’t be anything left to put back together.”
The room went still. His henchmen glanced at each other, uneasy. Caruso’s nostrils flared, and he shoved the barrel of the gun under her chin.
“You’ll give me what I want. The formula. Or I’ll paint these walls with the blood of children until you break.”
Her knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand taller. She thought of Rune’s quiet steadiness, Kamon’s fiery loyalty, the way their eyes softened when they looked at her. She thought of the way they had held her, promised her she was never alone. That was her strength. That was her anchor.
“You’ll never have it,” she whispered. “Not from me.”
Caruso growled, circling her again. “Stupid girl. You’ve always thought yourself better. Better than me, better than everyone. But you’re nothing without the knowledge I gave you. I built you. You owe me everything.”
Her chin lifted, defiant even with blood trickling down her face. “I owe you nothing. Every scar you left on me made me stronger. Every lesson you forced on me taught me how to fight you. You didn’t build me—you forged me. And the blade you made is pointed straight at you.”
His hand lashed out again, another strike across her face. Her head snapped sideways, but she laughed, low and bitter. “You can beat me. You can threaten me. But you’ll never own me. Not now. Not ever.”
Caruso’s teeth bared. He turned and barked at one of his men. The thug grabbed a girl, no older than ten, dragging her forward by the hair. The child screamed.
Klarissa’s heart lurched. She thought of all the children she had sworn to protect, the future she had fought to build out of her own mistakes. She stepped forward instinctively, shielding the child with her body. “Don’t touch her!” she snarled. “I’ll write it. Bring me paper.”
Caruso’s eyes gleamed, triumphant. “Good girl. You always were smart enough to know when you’d lost.”
But Klarissa’s mind was racing, refusing his truth.
Not lost. Never lost. Her bond thrummed stronger now, like a lifeline stretching across the city.
Rune and Kamon were out there, hearts tied to hers.
She could feel them moving closer, burning with the same desperation. She just had to hold on long enough.
Her hands shook, hidden in the folds of her coat, as the henchmen scrambled for paper. She prayed again, harder this time, that Rune and Kamon would reach her before she damned them all.
****
The smoke still clung to the halls of the school when Rune and Kamon finally stepped back out into the gray Chicago morning.
Their boots left streaks of blood across cracked tiles, their bodies tense, senses straining for danger.
The Pride had split—the battle wasn’t confined to a single front anymore.
The Holt brothers lingered behind, their eyes fixed on the teacher who had guided them to the gym.
She stood in the wreckage, trembling, her lip split, her blouse stained.
Rune caught the sharp, almost feral way the brothers looked at her.
Hunger. Need. Something primal that had nothing to do with battle.
The woman’s brow furrowed in confusion as she met their stares.
Interest, too, if Rune was reading it right.
But the moment passed, duty pulling them on.