Chapter 28 Kai
Kai
AN EPIDEMIC
Wyll and I square off in the training yard.
The air is already thick with that storm-before-the-storm energy.
Clouds roll overhead, casting long shadows that stretch across the lawn as if they’ve got a score to settle.
We’ve trained together for years, so we don’t say a word; we don’t need to. The second our eyes lock, it’s on.
Wyll moves first. Fast, sharp, no wasted motion.
His punches come in as thunder. Each one testing my guard, trying to break through.
I grit my teeth, slip a few, block the rest, and answer back with kicks that snap through the air, aiming to throw him off balance.
The sound of fists landing echoes through the yard, brutal and loud.
No tricks, just raw power and hard-earned skills.
Every move is calculated, but it still feels wild.
Both riding that edge where control meets chaos, no time to think, muscle memory takes over.
Instinct got the wheel now, and I’m riding the high, adrenaline hammering through my veins.
My heart is pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.
Our lycan blood stirring beneath the skin, turning every movement sharper, faster.
Then I see it, a slip in his stance, only a flicker.
I don’t think, I move. There’s no space for hesitation, no mercy.
This isn’t just training, it’s preparation for the war waiting just beyond the horizon.
Because there’s always one. And I land it, one clean hit, sharp and decisive.
Wyll reels back, footing tripping. I don’t give him a second to recover.
Closing the distance fast, I give him a final punch on his sternum.
Wyll hits the mat with a heavy thud that rings out.
I might be the next alpha, but Wyll? He’s right on my heels.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way. Chest heaving, sweat burning in my eyes, I reach out a hand.
He grabs it without missing a beat, laughing like we didn’t just try to beat the hell out of each other.
I can’t help but laugh too, because yeah, that’s just how we are.
Built for the fight, bound by it, and the small perks are to blow off some steam simultaneously.
“Damn, you didn’t need to go that hard, man,” Wyll says as he rubs his chest.
“Just say you can’t handle the heat.”
“Oh shut up, that’s not what I said.”
"Where'd you disappear off with Avilyna earlier?" I ask, unable to keep the edge of curiosity from slipping in, as we head toward the outdoor weight rack.
“She needed a book,” Wyll replies casually. “Said she wanted a distraction and something for an assignment.”
“Oh yeah?” I glance over as we start loading up the bench press.“What kind of assignment?”
"The Bloodmoon War," he says, his voice a little quieter now as he adds the third plate.
I always appreciate that we can train outside, no matter the weather. My favourite time is when it rains. The water gathers above us, stopping right where the Naqsh rune is etched. It holds the rain in place, then guides it off to the side as a waterfall spilling over an invisible dome.
Wyll moves into position behind the bar, ready to spot me. I settle onto the bench, adjusting my grip. I start my set, lifting the bar up and down, four, five…
“For what it’s worth… I don’t think she’s a spy.” Wyll’s words stop me cold, the bar hovering above my chest mid-rep, jaw tightening. Every time I get tunnel vision, I forget just how sharp Wyll really is. He’s always been the one who could read me better than anyone else.
Until her.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, continuing my set, already knowing that he picked up on what my father asked of me.
Wyll knows him too well; he knows how he operates.
We grew up side by side. He’s seen the General play hero, taking in the orphaned son of his fallen best friend.
But the kindness ended there, no warmth, no attention.
Nothing to envy, except maybe the silence.
At least Wyll was invisible enough to avoid the worst of it.
“I feel it too,” he says quietly.
Those words ignite something in me. I re-rack the weight and spring up from the bench, anger radiating from my pores.
How dare he say that? As if he could understand an ounce of what it feels like.
Wyll holds up his hands, backing off from one step.
“Relax, man. I’m not talking about your creepy obsession.
I mean the déjà vu. That weird feeling you told me about.
I called her Lyna,” Wyll continues, voice lowered now, the sarcasm gone.
“No idea why. It just came out. Like my instincts knew her name before my brain did. And the way she looked at me… She felt it too, as if we’ve been there before. ”
My breath catches, that name.
“Wait… wasn’t that the name of your sister’s best friend? Luna—Lyna?” Wyll freezes, eyes widening.
“Shit. I think you’re right.” His voice drops, heavy with disbelief. “How the hell did I forget that?” His brows are in a deep furrow. I see it when it hits him, the weight of something lost and suddenly found.
We all say we want to forget the painful things, but once they’re gone, we start to wonder if remembering would hurt less. Somehow, they both burn just the same, memory and absence.
“It’s alright, man,” I say after a pause. “I forgot too. At least until she showed up.”
Wyll's voice is low, cautious. “What do you think it means?”
I shake my head slowly. “The only thing I know for sure is that someone tampered with her memories, our memories. This kind of overlap? It’s not just a coincidence.”
He hesitates, then asks the question neither of us wants to voice. “You think Avilyna might not be Rey’s daughter?”
My jaw tightens.
The weight of that possibility sinks in.
“If that’s true,” I say carefully, “we’ve got to be smart about how we handle it.”
If she’s not Rey’s daughter, then the chance of her being the enemy…
Wyll nods. “Yeah…”
My voice hardens.“We have to be smart not to draw the wrong kind of attention. I don’t want her to be in danger.” At that, my dumbass of a best friend looks at me, fangs on full show. “Now wipe that stupid grin off your face, you moron.” I bite off.
Wyll shakes his head, displaying a bigger smile. “Alright then. So, what’s the plan?”
I lay back on the bench and readjust my grip to the bar, getting ready for another set. “We’ll wait. I think we’ll get answers once she awakens.”
An hour later, we’re clean, dressed, and ready for patrol. We hit the briefing room, and Isolde’s waiting with our next mission.
“Corporal Brackwell, your team’s assigned to the portal activity at Mundane World, gate 144.”
“Understood, Sergeant.” I take the file from her.
She leans in, voice low, “Keep an eye on Caleb, will you?”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, he’s a grown man. Don’t need babysitting.” Isolde is momentarily speechless.
Normally, I keep my mouth shut or pick my words carefully.
But not when it concerns my guys, my family.
The ones I chose, well, technically, the one Kvirr chose for us.
Three misfits who somehow make one hell of a team, the Bloodhowl Unit.
And I’ll be damned if I don’t protect them, because I know exactly how it feels to fail your family.
For some, Sergeant Sinclair is nice, but when it comes to being a mom, let’s just say that nice enough doesn’t cut it, so on that, I leave.
Once the glamour is activated on our bikes, we head out.
Mask up, helmets on. I take the lead, as the gate 144 spits us out right into the heart of Blue River, Yukon.
A sleepy town frozen in time. The streets lie empty, except for a few couples making their way toward the glowing neon of the diner or the faded marquee of the old movie theatre.
We ease off the gas, the bikes humming low as we cruise through the quiet streets. A sharp wind from the nearby mountain cuts through the air, carrying with it a faint trace of something… off. This portal sits dangerously close to town. If a demon slipped through, it would leave a mark.
And sure enough, it looks like we’ve just found one.
“Guys, come take a look at this.”
Spinning around, I catch up with Caleb and Wyll standing at the entrance of a dark alley.
On the cracked pavement lies a corpse. Mangled, torn apart, crawling with rats.
Their shrill squeals pierce the silence as they gnaw deep into the raw flesh.
Blood oozes from ragged wounds, pooling thick and dark on the granite.
One rat’s body is half-swallowed inside the empty eye socket, its fur soaked in crimson.
“There are so many of them,” Wyll mutters, disgust curling his lips.
“Caleb, you got anything for this?” I ask, voice low.
Without wasting a minute, he steps forward. Fingers diving into the labyrinth of pockets on his worn leather coat, each stuffed with vials glowing faintly in the dim light, Caleb pulls out two bottles, eyes flicking between them, before picking one.
“This might work.”
My teeth clench at the word might, but I say nothing.
He chants low, ‘Stepvo,’ and the liquid inside the vial swirls from black to a blinding white.
Hurling it into the rat pool, thick smoke surges up while the vermin shriek in pain.
After a couple of heartbeats, silence falls over the street.
Once the smoke clears out, there’s nothing, just dark, glistening blood staining the ground.
Wyll shudders. “Ugh, I just got chills. I swear, your Frankenstein science shit freaks me the hell out.”
Caleb doesn’t even blink. “Yeah? Well, my science shit just saved your dumbass.”
“Fair. Fair.”
Caleb shoots me a look. “I don’t know how you put up with his whiny ass, Kai. He drives me nuts.”
I chuckle as we head back to the bikes. “You get used to it. He’s just a big softie under all that.”
“Both of you fuck off,” Wyll grumbles, firing up his engine. “Also, what the hell brought all those rats? ”
But before any of us can answer him, a low, guttural sound rips through the alley. Deep, feral, and close, we all freeze and slowly turn toward the noise. Every muscle tight, breath caught in our lungs.
A figure stands at the far end of the alley.
Hunched—Twitching, not right.
Its eyes are pitch black, veins writhing beneath its skin like ink bleeding through paper. Foam bubbles from its mouth. Lips curling back, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth, sharp, uneven, too many to count.
“What the hell is that?!” Wyll yells, staggering a step back, his bike forgotten.
“Caleb, tell me you’ve got another one of those bombs!” I shout.
He doesn’t look up, just mutters, “You had to fucking jinx it,” as he fumbles through his coat.
“Sorry!” Wyll whines.
Then the thing jerks sideways like it’s being yanked by invisible strings. Its head snaps unnaturally, and a thick, black sludge leaks from its orifices. Its jaw drops open, too wide. Dislocating with a sickening crack as the skin tears, and then it screams.
“Okay! Time to fucking go!” Wyll shouts, going back to his bike, gunning the engine. But I stay grounded, calm, pulling my starblades free with a practiced flick.
“Tha thu deamhan, tilleadh saoi-diabhal,” I mutter, the spell making the runes come alive.
The creature’s head jerks toward me, its movements sharp and unnatural. Then it launches. Whatever mind it once had is long gone; this thing runs on pure instinct.
I brace, then throw the starblade, it sinks deep into its head with a sickening squelch. The momentum carries it forward another step before it crumples, black blood spraying across the ground as its head slumps deeper onto the starblade before disappearing in a cloud of dust.
“ALRIGHT!” Wyll yells, jumping onto his bike seat.
My lips twitch into a smirk, short-lived, because then we hear it.
The wet snarls and heavy dragging footsteps echo down the street.
Three more of them stagger into view. Just like the first, glassy black eyes, flesh peeling, something rotten lurking behind their twitchy limbs.
“It’s a goddamn zombie apocalypse!” Wyll shouts, backing up.
“It’s an epidemic,” Caleb corrects, already reaching into his coat. “We need to figure out how it spreads.”
“That’s what I said, a freaking zombie outbreak!
” Wyll snaps. He pulls his guns out, whispers a quick incantation, and Kvirr’s runes flare along the barrels with a deep blue glow.
He fires, the bullets burying themselves in each monster’s skull with pinpoint precision.
Their heads snap back from the force, dropping as stones.
No screams, just dust and the stench of sulfur are left behind.
Wyll blows a breath out as I glance at him.
“So… note to self, if we want results, we just have to piss you off.”
Wyll smiles and says without missing a beat, “That or bribe me with pie.” He holsters his guns and then asks, “Since when do demons infect humans, anyway, other than possession?”
“They’re evolving,” I say, locking eyes with both of them. The weight of it settling in.
“Looks like it,” Caleb mutters, heading straight for the black stain the infected left behind. Pulling a tiny vial from his pocket, he uses his blade to scoop up the viscous liquid, sealing it carefully.
“Let’s sweep the area. Make sure we didn’t miss any of these things lurking around.” I order. We pull our masks up, getting ready for whatever’s waiting in the night. Sometimes, not showing all your cards is the difference between winning and getting your ass handed to you.
“Those demons must have gotten their hands on a couple of mundanes,” Wyll mutters.
“Or worse,” Caleb adds, voice low, “they’re looking for Elgarians, and those are casualties. If that’s the case, it will explain the attack on Avilyna.” That theory lingers in the back of my throat, a bitter taste, because that will mean war’s coming, and it’s coming fast.
“They want access to Elgar.”