The Monsters Are Free
At six o’clock sharp, the timer let out a single, shrill chime that ricocheted down the Upper Wing like a gunshot.
The first two cells on the left snapped open. A wiry Beta and a scarred Alpha locked eyes, flashed matching lunatic grins, then slammed their foreheads together with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed. They laughed like children and bolted, bare feet slapping stone as they vanished into the dusk.
One by one, the rest of the doors followed. Silver bars hissed back into the walls. Monsters spilled out: snarling, laughing, some already half-shifted. The corridor emptied in seconds, leaving only two cells sealed.
Kane Whitlock and Saint Crowther.
Saint rocked heel to toe, slow and hypnotic, ice-blue eye fixed on the glowing red countdown.
00:00:03
00:00:02
00:00:01
The red light blinked once, then died.
A soft, final click echoed.
Saint froze.
Kane’s head snapped up, black eyes gleaming like spilled oil in the dark. A cracked, delirious laugh tore out of him.
Freedom.
The silver bars retracted with a frightened hiss, as though the metal itself knew what it had caged.
Saint moved first, crossing the floor without a sound. Every muscle in his body seemed drawn tight as he pulled in a deep breath. The scent of their mate hit him so hard his claws punched through his fingertips, leaving drops of silver burning against the floor.
Kane came after him with a broken laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. The front of his pants hung in tatters; his cock had torn clean through hours ago and now jutted against his stomach, flushed an angry red and leaking. He made no attempt to cover himself.
They flowed down the hall in perfect sync, shoulder to shoulder, two storms hunting the same prey. Past old bloodstains no one had bothered to scrub. Past cells that still reeked of piss and terror.
Kane dragged a blistered palm along the wall, leaving a smear of red. “She’s close,” he rasped, voice shredded. “I can taste her on the fucking air.”
Saint said nothing. He just lengthened his stride.
They hit the stairwell together, emergency lights flickering like dying stars above them.
The second they stepped outside, cool evening air hit their skin, and there he was.
Rhys Valdane leaned against the stone archway, arms folded, a lazy smile sharp enough to cut throats.
Kane moved first: a blur of muscle and madness. One huge hand clamped around Rhys’s throat, yanking him forward and burying his face in the crook of Rhys’s neck. He inhaled like a drowning man breaking the surface.
“You smell her,” Rhys murmured, fingers threading into Kane’s hair, pressing him deeper.
He crooked a finger at Saint. The bigger wolf stalked forward, eyes glowing. Rhys lifted the hand that had touched Scarlett’s blood, the same finger he’d already licked clean, and offered it.
Saint seized his wrist and dragged the finger beneath his nose before running his tongue slowly along its length. The sound that left him was strained and animalistic, hunger stripping away what little control he had left.
Kane pulled back just enough to speak, his hand already gripping the bulge straining against his ruined pants. “Where is she? Need to see her. Need to knot her. Breed her until she can’t fucking walk.”
Rhys caught Kane by the hair and pulled his head back. “Not. Yet.”
Kane snarled, hips bucking against nothing. “Why the fuck not?”
Rhys’s smile turned razor-thin. “Because the last time you lost control, you both ended up in silver for a month.” He jerked his chin toward the building behind them. “Remember?”
Kane huffed, but whatever argument he had died beneath Rhys’s stare. Their hierarchy had never been complicated. Rhys ruled, Saint obeyed without question, and Kane usually came around eventually.
Rhys released him and turned to Saint, easing his finger from Saint’s mouth. Saint followed the movement instinctively before finally letting him go.
“She’s tiny,” Rhys warned. “Five-foot-five, maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, and completely human. She’s a virgin too. One wrong move and we could seriously hurt her.”
Saint stared at him, as though only one part of that had registered. “She’s really that small?”
Kane growled and shifted restlessly, already palming himself through what remained of his pants. “She’ll break on our cocks.”
Rhys gave a short laugh. “Exactly why we take our time. We woo her first. Make her want us so badly she’s the one begging for our knots, begging to be stretched until she can barely take any more.”
His amusement faded. “I want her trembling because she wants us, not screaming because we were too fucking impatient to control ourselves.”
Kane’s hips jerked like the words alone had fucked him. “I’m gonna flood her so deep she’ll taste me for weeks.”
Rhys’s smile widened. “Then first things first: you two stink of blood and death.”
He stepped back, letting the cold night air sweep between them. “Shower. Cold water. Scrub every inch. I want her smelling clean hunger tonight, not a slaughterhouse.”
Kane bared his teeth. “Can’t help the hunger.”
“Then suffer.” The command struck hard enough to wipe the challenge from Kane’s face. “You come to her reeking of corpses and you’ll terrify her so badly she’ll never spread those pretty legs. You want that?”
Kane’s snarl gave way to a ragged breath. His chin dropped as he fought whatever his rut was demanding of him, shoulders rising and falling with the effort.
Saint hadn’t moved an inch. One ice-blue eye burned into Rhys, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling in harsh, desperate pulls. His clawed hand was already wrapped around his own thick, leaking cock, stroking slow and helpless, like the scent alone was fucking his fist.
Rhys stepped in close, grip iron on Saint’s jaw. “You too, baby,” he murmured, voice going slightly soft for the large Alpha “Wash the blood out of your hair. I want her smelling pine and fresh snow and us… not the last Alpha you gutted and left in pieces.”
A broken, animal sound crawled out of Saint’s throat. His hips jerked into his own fist.
Rhys dragged his tongue along Saint’s cheek, tasting sweat and the metallic trace of blood.
“Do it for her.” His mouth hovered near Saint’s ear. “Be clean when you stand beneath her window tonight. I want her soaking the sheets just from catching your scent on the breeze.”
Saint visibly struggled with the command before giving him a sharp nod.
Kane let out a strained laugh. “You’re a sadistic bastard, Rhys.”
That earned him Rhys’s full attention. He caught Kane by the hair and hauled him forward until their bodies collided.
Kane groaned at the impact.
“And you fucking love it,” Rhys hissed against his mouth. “Ten minutes. Dorm A showers. Cold water. Move.”
He shoved them both backward, hard.
“Go.”
They went.
Two massive Alphas sprinted across the darkening courtyard like unleashed hurricanes.
Bare feet tore up the grass, claws scraped stone, cocks swinging heavy and untouched between their thighs.
Students scattered in every direction, flattening themselves against walls, eyes wide, throats bared in instinctive submission as the predators passed.
Rhys watched them disappear beneath the dorm’s archway, amusement lingering on his face.
He tipped his head back and breathed in the cool night air, finding her scent almost immediately beneath everything else.
His mouth curved.
“Soon, little one.” His eyes drifted toward the windows above. “You’re going to learn exactly what it feels like to be fucked, claimed, and cherished by your mates until you never want to be empty again.”