34. Briar
brIAR
A deep boom shakes through the forest, rolling across the ground beneath our boots. Birds scatter from the trees in a frantic rush, their cries swallowed by the echo of the blast.
“Move out!” Father’s shout cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “That should be the tanks of mist destroyed. Both the sedative and the flesh-eating.”
My chest seizes for a beat. Callum. That was his team.
I picture their tanks shattering and the mist hissing out like venom, and my stomach knots at the thought of him being caught too close.
Flesh peeling, lungs burning– No . I shove the images away and force my legs into motion as we surge forward through the trees.
I can’t cling to fear now. I have to trust him.
Trust all of them. Elias with the weapons chamber.
Dante with surveillance. Callum with the tanks.
They know what’s at stake and they’ll hold their own with their units backing them up.
I clear my mind with every pounding step, focusing on the path ahead and the dark, looming outline of the compound.
Terrance waits within.
The thought of his name is enough to harden everything inside me. I grip Lyra and Kael tighter, the weight of them a steady pulse against my palms, and lock my focus where it belongs.
Branches whip past as we break the treeline, boots slamming against the gravel service road that leads straight to the compound.
My lungs burn with the way we have to hold ourselves back to keep pace with the ten humans in our unit.
Every stride carrying me closer to the imposing structure that carved scars into me I’ll never forget, and all I want is to unleash my full abilities.
The front doors are already shattered and lying in pieces along the floor both inside and out.
The debris crunches beneath our boots as we flood into the lobby in a rush of steel and breath.
The air inside is laced with smoke and dust as fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering against the marble floor.
Two humans in tactical gear rush forward from the stairwell, rifles strapped tight to their chests.
“The main floor is clear!” the man shouts, voice sharp with the kind of focus only adrenaline can hone.
“Elevators under our control–no hostiles, no traps. The weapons room hasn’t been breached yet, though, so we can’t give insight to that level yet. ”
His female partner presses a finger to the comm in her ear, head tilted as she listens.
Her face goes pale before smoothing into grim satisfaction.
“Confirmation just came through. The tanks are empty. Both toxic and sedative mist are venting outside. An entire wall was blown open to keep it out of the compound’s interior. ”
A cold breath slips out of me before I can stop it, relief tangling with the hammer of my pulse.
Dad’s voice cuts through the lobby as he faces our team. “You heard her. The elevators are ours and this is where we will split up for your safety. The vampires go down first, since the weapons room hasn’t been secured.”
Papa steps forward, hands loose at his sides, eyes scanning the human faces.
“We’ll move fast,” he says. “We will use our speed and strength to clear a path to the holding cells. You follow in the next elevator and provide backup. Top priority is to keep the stairwells open if anything goes wrong and we need our people to escape.”
Father’s nod cements the plan. He levels a look at me that says more than any plan could– trust your training and don’t do anything stupid . I feel the heat of it under my skin and let it settle like armor. I give him a sharp nod of understanding.
The humans around us rise up as their voices run through the protocol, splitting themselves into two groups of five that will follow behind in the elevators.
After descending to the floor, they will head to both stairwells at opposite ends of the floor.
Men and women adjust their bulletproof vests, check their gun clips, and pull clear helmet visors down.
The elevators open with the breath of a mechanized hiss that sounds absurdly calm against the pounding beat of my heart.
My fathers and I step inside and my pulse hammers in my throat but I quell it, focusing on the familiar feeling of Lyra and Kael and their quiet, confident energy radiating through our bond.
The doors close with a small, decisive thunk and we begin our descent.
For one slow second, the world narrows to the hum of the cables dropping us into the belly of enemy territory.
The elevator doors slide open and I don’t wait for anyone to give the order, launching forward with every nerve in my body lit.
It’s one thing to look at maps and structural layouts, but I’ve been here. I’m taking the lead and getting us to the floor Mom will be on. No one speaks up to disagree with my silent assertion of our grouping and we rush forward together, ignoring the roar of guns blazing on this level to our left.
I stop the train of thought that wants me to think about Elias fighting here.
Not now.
The closest stairwell yawns open to the right as we close the distance, the metal grating of the stairs within echoing with the pounding of boots and the sharp stutter of gunfire ricocheting against concrete.
I fling the door open and we descend quickly on the infestation of Terrance’s guards.
Shouts rise up, the kind of frantic cries humans make when they realize death’s bearing down on them.
I don’t slow. I throw myself into the narrow space, blades flashing.
Lyra bites deep into the first guard’s chest, and Kael drives through the second before the human can even attempt to pull the trigger of his glock.
Bullets crack through the air, but I’m already moving and gone before they can land me in their sights, their aim useless against speed they can’t track.
Behind me, the thunder of my fathers’ footsteps follows as we work through the stairwell like a well-practiced unit.
Papa’s blade cuts a clean arc, steel through flesh, as Father’s gun fires once, twice, three times, each shot landing true to the humans coming up from beneath us.
Dad barrels past me as he jumps to the landing below, landing a sickening kick that sends a guard crashing down a flight of stairs before his throat is torn open.
The humans keep coming up, weapons raised, but we tear through them as if they’re paper.
Every strike is faster than their eyes can follow, every blow stronger than their bones can withstand.
My rage drives me harder, sharper–every cut of my blades like another piece of my grief spilling out, every kill a fragment of what this organization did to me.
I now understand to my core what it means to battle your demons.
I see flashes of my memory as I move–cold steel tables, the sting of restraints, Terrance’s smile and glinting scalpel. Every face I cut down blurs into one singular thought: They chose this side and now they pay for it.
By the time we hit the bottom floor, the stairwell is painted red, the walls dripping with the proof of lives lost. My breath comes fast, my arms slick with sweat and blood that isn’t mine. The hall of holding cells waits ahead, flanked by another line of Terrance’s guards.
They barely have time to raise their rifles before we’re on them.
Lyra slashes across a throat, Kael plunges into a gut. My fathers tear through the rest with a mix of blades and gunfire, each shot punctuated by the wet sound of steel finding its home. I spin, slice, and drive forward until none are left standing.
And then it’s utterly silent.
The smell of blood and gunpowder hangs thick in the air. My chest heaves, fangs bared, every nerve still wired with the hunger to keep going. For the first time since I was dragged into this place, I’m the one leaving the trail of bodies behind, and it feels really fucking good.
All at once, the walls covering the cells begin to rise, metal groaning and gears grinding as they shudder upward in unison, the sound scraping down my spine with a familiarity I wish I didn’t carry.
I force myself to hold my ground, to watch as the truth of what Terrance has kept hidden is revealed.
Cameras blink awake overhead, green dots sparking to life in the corners, and my gaze locks onto one of them.
I can feel him there even if I can’t see him–Dante, steady and focused, controlling the feeds, watching every step we make.
My pulse stutters under the weight of that unseen connection, knowing he’s watching our backs.
The thunder of heavy gunfire rolls through the ceiling, echoing down the stairwell at the far end of the hall in sharp bursts that are quickly followed by muffled shouts.
The sound ricochets through me, pulling my thoughts toward Elias, toward the armory where the fight must be thickest now, concentrated and brutal.
Panic gnaws at the edges of my resolve, but I push it back with a harsh breath.
When the walls finally reach their height, the sight waiting behind the glass knocks the air from my lungs.
Rows of cells stretch down the corridor, each one sealed by reinforced glass, and pressed against them are bodies–some slumped in exhaustion, others clawing at the barrier with trembling hands desperate to scratch their way to freedom.
My breath catches when I realize what I’m seeing.
Small frames. Wide, terrified eyes. Hands tipped with tiny claws piercing through the skin.
Furry tails twitching against the floor as their small bodies shudder with fear.
Children. Shifter children.
We can’t even see the rest of the cells that seem to extend endlessly down the immense hall.
I try to steel my spine for what else we’re going to see, but I can’t.
The shock burns into rage so quickly it makes my vision blur.
My stomach twists, my chest so tight I can barely breathe.
My fathers let out a vicious roar that shakes the walls and echoes down the corridor like a battle cry.
The sheer fury of it makes every muscle in me clench, and I find myself glaring back up at the cameras.
“Dante, open these cells. Now!”
The lens above me blinks once, twice, then flashes green again, and the hallway fills with the mechanical whir of locks disengaging. One by one the barriers release, glass sliding open in a chorus of clicks and low groans.
I turn toward my fathers as they begin to lift, chest heaving, Lyra and Kael still clenched tight in my hands. “Please,” I manage, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Get the victims out to safety while no one else is down here. I will find Mom.”
My fathers hesitate, and for a moment the silence between us is louder than the alarms and gunfire rattling the building.
I can see the argument in their eyes, the instinct to drag me back into line and keep me from breaking off alone, but then the weight of the freed victims surrounding us steals the fight from their throats.
I know as fathers, the sight of trapped children is something they can’t ignore–especially when my mother would kill them herself if she found out they put her over helpless kids.
Papa finally exhales, his jaw locked as he looks over the shivering cluster of shifters closest to him. “We’ll transfer them to the human backup teams the second we meet up with them. They should be in the stairwells any minute.”
Dad’s gaze cuts to me, sharp and unyielding. “Once they’re clear, we’ll find you. You won’t face him alone.”
Father’s voice is the last to come, low and rough, carrying the scrape of gravel that makes my throat ache to hear. “Go find her. We’ll catch up. But bring her back, Briar patch.”
I nod once, clipped and certain, before I turn away and hurry down the long hall. Lyra and Kael hang heavy in my grip, their hilts humming faintly as I move down the corridor past cell after cell opening into the hall.
I pass too many wide, frightened eyes as I go, trying to soothe the children over and over with the same words. “It’s okay,” I tell them, my voice steadier than I feel. “Help is coming. You’ll be out of here soon and back home where you belong.”
One boy, no older than ten, blinks at me through tears, his claws retracting back into small, shaking hands as though my words have finally given him permission to stop fighting. My throat and eyes burn with heavy sadness, but I force a small nod before moving on.
I repeat it again and again, to every cell I pass, the same reassurance spilling out of me in a rhythm that steadies my racing pulse.
They’ll be here soon. You’ll be safe. You’ll go home.
Each time, the words anchor me as much as they do them, holding me together when the memories of my own captivity threaten to split me apart.
There are so many shifters here that I have to wonder if he’s been forcing them to breed, or somehow creating them.
By the time I reach the end of the hall, my steps slow, my stomach tightens as my gaze sweeps over the last row of open cells.
Shifters and vampires spill into the corridor in uneven, stumbling waves as I direct them back toward the stairwell we came down, refusing to let any of them flee up the furthest stairwell that is still alight with gunfire.
One face is missing from the free captives, though.
My mother isn’t here.
The air snags sharp in my chest, panic tearing through me in a rush that makes the edges of my vision blur. For a breath, I can’t move, can’t think–I can only feel the sick weight of realization that maybe she’s been moved to another compound.
Maybe she’s gone, maybe I’ll never find her.
Then the thought sharpens, landing like a knife in my gut.
Terrance.
His patterns, his obsessions, his need to watch suffering up close, to drag it out until it bled into containers to store. If she isn’t here, then there’s only one place she could be.
His favorite room. The one where he tortures his victims.