Charged by Razorback Mates

Chapter One

The door opened too easily.

Tamsin didn’t step through it straight away.

Her hand stayed on the access panel, fingers splayed lightly against the cold surface as the seal disengaged with a quiet, obedient hiss that felt ... wrong. Too smooth. Too clean. No lag. No resistance. No secondary lock trying to catch her out.

Her gaze slid past the threshold instead, cutting through the space beyond in one slow, deliberate sweep. The room was the kind of empty that wasn’t absence—it was intention.

Her lips pressed together.

“Yeah,” she murmured under her breath, voice low enough it barely carried. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

This was definitely a trap. It wasn’t subtle, and it sure as hell wasn’t clever, in fact it was blatant and dumb as shit. So dumb, she was actually starting to feel a little insulted by it all. Which they probably knew, and would assume she couldn’t walk away from it.

Which she could.

She totally could, just turn around and walk away.

Her jaw tightened. “But I’m not known for making smart life choices.”

She stepped inside anyway, walking away wasn’t an option. The door sealed behind her with a soft click that seemed louder than it should have, the sound settling somewhere at the base of her spine instead of echoing through the room.

She didn’t turn.

Her body was already shifting into motion, weight settling evenly through her feet as she moved deeper into the lab, each step measured, deliberate, her senses stretching outward without looking like she was paying attention at all.

Her shoulders rolled once, easing tension that hadn’t quite formed yet.

“All right,” she said softly. “Let’s see what you’ve done with my work.”

The main server bank sat along the far wall like it was waiting for her.

Everything in this place felt like it had been positioned just slightly too perfectly—like someone had studied how she moved, how she thought, and built the room accordingly.

If this was a trap, then the only thing that mattered was the reason it existed.

She dropped into a crouch at the terminal, pulling the drive from her pocket, the motion smooth, automatic—her fingers steady even as something low and instinctive pressed at her awareness.

Just slotted the drive into place and waited. The system blinked once. Twice.

Then opened.

Just like that.

Her brows lifted slightly. “Oh, come on. Now you’re starting to piss me off.”

Because Chimera didn’t make mistakes like that.

“They’re watching,” she muttered, already moving. “The question is, when does the action start?”

Her fingers flew across the interface, slipping past surface-level security like it was barely there, dropping deeper, cutting through layers that were supposed to slow her down and finding—there.

Her breath caught, because she recognized it. Not the files themselves, but the layout. The architecture. The way it had been built was based on her work—twisted for sure—but her base.

Turned into something it had never been meant to be.

Her stomach tightened, something hot and sharp cutting through the calm she held onto like armor.

“They wouldn’t have dared...” she whispered under her breath.

The files opened.

And—yeah. They dared. They had turned what she had developed into their own horrific weapon systems. Her breath left her slower this time, more controlled, even as something inside her recoiled.

“They weren’t refining it,” she said quietly. “They broke it. And it is as unstable as fuck.”

Targeted neurological overload, tailored down to species, designed to push past recovery and into collapse.

Her jaw tightened hard enough to ache.

“That’s not evolution. It’s targeted shifter genocide,” she muttered. “Fucking bastards.”

Her fingers moved faster. Ripping it from their system like she could undo what they’d done just by taking it away. Because she would do that. She had to.

“They don’t get to keep this,” she said, quieter now, the words grounding her.

The progress bar climbed.

35%.

58%.

72%.

Her breathing stayed steady, but her body had shifted—weight angled slightly, shoulders loose, attention no longer just on the screen. Watching had just been escalated to action.

Her fingers slowed for half a second, then resumed without hesitation.

“Right on cue,” she murmured.

The door behind her locked with a heavy, final thunk. She didn’t look. Didn’t flinch.

The download hit 100%.

Complete.

She pulled the drive free and slid it back into her pocket in one clean motion before she rose to her feet.

Her body settled into readiness before her mind fully caught up.

Then she turned.

Panels along the walls opened with quiet precision, sliding back to reveal what Chimera had waiting for her. Hybrids. Four of them.

Her gaze tracked them immediately—movement, posture, balance, the way they held themselves.

More stable than the last batch.

Her lips flattened.

“Great,” she muttered. “You’re learning.”

A voice filtered through the room—calm, distant, detached.

“You came for the data.”

Tamsin huffed a breath. “Was it the breaking and entering that gave it away?”

“You are the missing component. You can make it stable.”

Her smile sharpened. “Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there.”

“We are not asking.”

“Good,” she said lightly. “Because I’m not offering.”

The first hybrid moved.

It came straight at her—and she stepped in. Not back, never back. Her hands slipped to the sheaths at her back, the sai sliding into her palms like they belonged there, the weight familiar, grounding, right.

The first strike drove clean beneath its ribs, and the second followed before it could react.

It dropped. Her body was already turning.

Second one—came in with a low attack. She shifted, redirecting its momentum, stepping through the opening it gave her—strike. No wasted motion.

The third came from behind.

She felt it—pivoted—blade in—done. These things weren’t that easy to beat. She was good, but not that damn good. These were expendable, designed for something else.

Her breathing stayed even, but the edge of it had changed—faster now, tighter. The burn built under her skin as the fight pressed in around her.

The fourth paused.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Well,” she said softly. “That’s new.”

The thing was watching and adapting. The first three had been fodder, tracking how she fought, she realized. This—this was when the real fight began.

It came at her differently. Feint. Redirect. Adjust. It almost caught her—almost.

Her lips curved. “Cute.”

She stepped through the attack with practiced precision. One step, two, brace for impact, take the hit whilst driving the sai into the thing’s left eye.

It dropped. Silence hit. She took a moment to breathe. Then—pain.

Sharp. Sudden.

Her body jerked, shoulder snapping back as something clipped her from the side. Not deep—but enough to matter. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale, muscles tightening instinctively as heat flared through her arm.

“Okay,” she muttered. “That’s rude.”

Her gaze snapped toward the source. There were more of them. Of course there were more.

The panels hadn’t finished opening.

Her stance shifted automatically, her weight adjusting to compensate for the injury before she consciously processed it. The pain was noted but ignored, at least for now.

She moved again. Faster and with less precision. Still controlled—but the rhythm had shifted.

Pressure building. More targets. More movement. They weren’t fucking around. They needed her, and it was clearly their intent to take her.

Her muscles burned now, breath coming harder, the edge of fatigue creeping in whether she liked it or not.

“Not done,” she murmured.

Because she didn’t get to be done. Not until—her hand brushed her pocket. She needed to get the drive to someone who could counter what had been done.

That mattered more than she did.

Her jaw clenched.

“Get out,” she told herself.

But even as she said it—she knew. This wasn’t going to be clean, and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be easy. She shifted again, taking down another hybrid, breath hitching slightly as the pain in her shoulder flared sharper this time.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “This is where it gets interesting.”

Because this—this was their plan. Wear her down to a point where she could be contained.

Her lips curved.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Still not happening.”

She drove her blade home again—and then—something hit. Not physical. Something deep within her, a pull that was as sharp as it was unexpected.

Her breath caught for half a second as it sliced through the fight, cutting clean through her focus in a way nothing else had managed to. Her head snapped slightly, awareness shifting even as her body kept moving—images of two men, dropping to their knees.

...Holy fuck that packed a punch...

...Yes. Yes ... that’s her...

“No,” she muttered.

Because she knew what that felt like. Or at least—what it might mean.

“Not now.”

Not when she needed every ounce of strength and wit she had to get out of this. Her grip tightened on her weapon.

Focus snapped back.

Fight first.

Deal with whatever the hell that was—later. If she got a later.

She stepped into the next attack— and kept going.

****

Denver was a dead end. Or it certainly fucking felt like it.

Aleksy and him had been tracking her scent, which, for E.S.E like them, should have been so damn easy.

But her scent was elusive, doubled back on itself, disappeared completely in midair, and they seemed to be just walking randomly through this whole city, struggling to find her.

Jarek stood on the edge of the alley, jaw tight, gaze tracking a trail that didn’t make sense anymore.

It vanished this time. Not gradually. Not messy. Not in a convoluted mess of other scents, it just disappeared.

Just—gone.

He exhaled hard through his nose, dragging a hand down the back of his neck as he turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning brick, shadow, fire escape, street beyond.

Nothing.

“She had to have doubled back,” he muttered.

Aleksy didn’t argue. Didn’t agree. Didn’t have a freaking clue, because neither did he.