Chapter 26
“We should follow them,” Catherine whispered, her eyes fixed on the darkness where Mercer and the others had disappeared.
“They’re still our flock, no matter what’s been done to them.
” Her voice carried the tremulous uncertainty of the newly turned—that peculiar blend of human emotion and predatory instinct that made young vampires so volatile.
I placed my hand on her shoulder, feeling the subtle tremors that ran through her frame.
The scent of gunpowder from the depot hung in the air around us, mingling with the earthier odors of the forest and something else—something I couldn’t immediately identify but that sent a prickle of warning along my spine.
“We have our assignment,” Desiderius replied, his voice low and measured. “The eastern perimeter. We plant the charges and complete the mission.”
I nodded, though doubt clouded my thoughts. “Desiderius is right. I don’t know how to counteract the influence of the doctor’s serum. But if God gives us a chance to warn some people, to scare them away, to force them to retreat before we detonate the charges—“
“We’ll have to move fast, then.” Catherine shook her head. “They aren’t going to delay their assault.”
“You think we can blast an exit route using the charges?” Desiderius asked. “Give them a way to retreat once they realize the monsters they’re facing can’t be killed by conventional weapons?”
Before I could respond, a subtle shift in the air currents caught my attention—movement in the forest behind us, too deliberate for wildlife, too controlled for random patrols. I raised my hand for silence, turning slowly toward the sensation.
“We’re not alone,” I whispered.
The forest had gone unnaturally quiet. No birds. No small creatures rustled through undergrowth. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath among the broken trees.
A twig snapped—fifty meters to our right. Another—forty meters to our left. The sounds came too precisely, too strategically placed. Soldiers moving into position.
“Spread out,” I instructed, my voice barely audible. “They’re surrounding us.”
Catherine’s eyes widened with fear, but she moved as directed, putting three meters between herself and Desiderius. I stepped forward, placing myself at the point of our triangle formation, my senses straining to detect the location of those who were coming for us.
The first soldier emerged from the shadows with unnerving confidence, a specialized crossbow held at the ready. My breath caught as moonlight shone on the sharpened wooden bolts loaded in each weapon. A second soldier appeared, then a third, each identically armed.
Within moments, a full circle of armed men had materialized from the darkness, their faces partially concealed by masks that covered their lower features.
Silver crosses dangled from their belts, not as religious symbols but as weapons.
Just like the crosses I’d seen the Order use before, enchanted somehow with what they thought was angelic power.
Perversions of the sacred symbol. And each soldier wore a small emblem on their shoulder—a rising sun with a cross at its center.
The Order of the Morning Dawn had found us.
Their commander stepped forward, his crossbow aimed steadily at my heart. “Surrender in the name of Operation Dusk,” he ordered, his voice carrying the clipped precision of a man accustomed to being obeyed. “Hands visible. No sudden movements.”
I kept my expression neutral despite the horror blooming within me. Operation Dusk—the same designation from Gallow’s reports. This was not a random encounter. This was an orchestrated ambush by someone with intimate knowledge of our mission, our nature, our weaknesses.
“We’re Allied operatives,” I replied, buying time as I assessed our options. Two dozen men. Specialized weapons. No chance of outrunning wooden bolts, even with vampire speed. “Under the direct command of the United States military.”
The commander’s laugh held no humor. “We know exactly what you are, Miss Bladewell. Your status as a military asset has been... reassessed.”
He knew my name. Of course, he did. This had been planned, probably on account of my refusal to take the treatments. The mission to Messines, the specialized troops positioned to intercept us—we had been led into a trap. But by whom? Mercer? Gallow? Both?
“The others?” I asked, though I feared I already knew the answer.
“Being dealt with,” he confirmed with cold efficiency. “Your recklessness among both the enemy and our British allies has compromised the General’s original plans. Your kind will cease to be of use after the completion of this mission.”
Cease to be of use. He meant they’d be eliminated.
Catherine trembled visibly beside me, her control fraying as she processed the implication—Ruth, Rebecca, and the others had been condemned to destruction alongside us.
The treatments were about more than making them better soldiers.
They had been about making them compliant victims.
The crossbow soldiers tightened their circle, moonlight glinting off their weapons as they closed in. I reached for the olive-wood rosary at my belt, finding small comfort in its smooth beads as I prepared for what would likely be our final moments.
The commander raised his hand, preparing to give the order that would end us. “By the authority of the Order of the Morning Dawn, I sentence you to—“
A howl shattered the night—primal, ancient, and impossibly loud. It froze every human in place, triggering instincts older than civilization itself. The sound held nothing human, nothing civilized, nothing merciful.
For one undead heartbeat, silence reigned. Then chaos erupted.
A massive shape burst from the undergrowth—a wolf larger than any natural animal, its silver fur gleaming like polished metal in the moonlight.
It moved with impossible speed, targeting the commander first, jaws closing around his throat before he could complete his sentence.
Blood sprayed in an arc as the man fell, his weapon discharging harmlessly into the earth.
The specialized troops scattered, training overwhelmed by primal fear.
Those who maintained composure enough to aim their weapons found their bolts missing the creature that moved like a liquid shadow among them.
The wolf attacked with savage instinct, targeting commanders and weapon specialists with uncanny intelligence.
“Lycanthrope,” Desiderius whispered, his voice carrying equal measures of awe and terror. “A werewolf. No friend of our kind. We need to run.”
Catherine collapsed to her knees beside me, her entire body shaking violently as the scent of fresh blood saturated the air. Her fangs descended involuntarily, her eyes darkening to obsidian pools as the predatory nature she fought to control surged forward.
“Catherine,” I gripped her shoulders, positioning myself to block her view of the carnage. “Focus on my voice. Remember your prayers. Remember who you are.”
But my words barely registered as she struggled against the hunger. Blood splashed across the forest floor as the wolf continued its systematic destruction of the ambush force. Men screamed, fired wildly, fell in sprays of crimson that called to the predator in all of us.
I held Catherine firmly, reciting prayers from Bishop Harkins’ manual while watching the wolf with a mixture of horror and gratitude.
This was no mindless beast. It attacked with purpose, with strategy—eliminating the greatest threats first, disabling rather than killing when possible, always moving too quickly for human reflexes to track.
As the last soldier fell, the massive creature paused in the center of the clearing. Its chest heaved with exertion, steam rising from its muzzle in the cool night air. Slowly, deliberately, it turned toward us.
I tensed, positioning myself between the wolf and my companions.
Our eyes met across the blood-soaked clearing—amber animal irises locking with mine.
In that gaze, I found not the mindless hunger of a beast, but something impossibly knowing.
Recognition flowed between us, though I could not understand its source or meaning.
For one extended moment, we regarded each other in perfect stillness—predator to predator, immortal to immortal. Then something shifted in those amber depths—a decision made, a message conveyed without words.
The wolf turned and bounded away, its massive form disappearing into the forest as suddenly as it had appeared.
The sound of its passage faded quickly, leaving only the cooling bodies of our would-be executioners and the cloying scent of blood that threatened to overwhelm Catherine’s fragile control.
“We need to move,” Desiderius urged, his voice tight with strain. Even his centuries of discipline were tested by the blood saturating the clearing. “Before she loses control completely. Before others come.”
I nodded, helping Catherine to her feet as she fought against her nature. The depot still awaited us, our mission incomplete despite this unexpected intervention. But as we moved away from the killing ground, I could not shake the sensation of those amber eyes studying me, watching me.