No Survivors
Flashback (ii) – Two Days After the Purge
The Crucible — nearly 5,000 miles from Silvercrest, hidden deep within the Carpathian Mountains.
The Crucible was not a school building.
It was a black site. A fortress carved into the mountain itself, hidden behind layers of wards, silver-laced fences, and armed guards who answered to no government only to the shadowy council that truly ran Silvercrest Academy.
This was where the elite were sent when the academy needed monsters, not students.
Now they stood in the vast circular hall known as the War Den. Twenty of the academy’s strongest Alphas filled the space, some alone, some in small packs. The air reeked of aggression, pheromones, dried blood, and barely-contained violence.
The Triumvirate stood near the back wall, completely healed thanks to their ability to heal quickly and two days of isolation. But the memory of silver batons and Saint's howls still lingered in the pack bond like a fresh bruise.
A tall, tattooed Alpha with a shaved head, Darius Kane, notorious for having 47 confirmed kills during the last two Purge laughed loudly with his group.
“Six kills?” he sneered, voice carrying. “The mighty Triumvirate dropping to single digits because they were too busy playing bodyguard for some wolfless pussy.”
Another Alpha, lounging on a bench, smirked. “I fucked three Omegas during the Purge and still got ten kills. Priorities, boys.”
Laughter rippled through the hall. Someone else added, “Defending a defect. How far the legends have fallen.”
Rhys stood perfectly still, blond hair immaculate, golden eyes calm as a frozen lake. Kane’s fists clenched at his sides, black eyes promising murder. Saint stared at the floor, jaw tight, shoulders rigid, the echo of silver burns still phantom-aching across his fur.
They said nothing.
A heavy iron door at the far end opened. The Handler, a cold-eyed Beta named Alistair, missing three fingers on his left hand stepped in carrying a stack of sealed black envelopes.
“Assignments,” he called out, voice echoing. “Listen carefully. These missions are time-sensitive and international. Failure is not an option.”
One by one, the Alphas stepped forward.
Darius received his with a grin. “Romania. Hunt down the rogue vampire coven leaking our secrets. Bring their hearts back in a cooler.”
Another team of four was sent to Myanmar .. “Eliminate the entire village suspected of sheltering a resistance cell against the Council. No survivors. Burn the evidence.”
A lone Alpha with ice-white hair was handed a mission in Alaska: “The Wendigo there has been eating our scouts. Deal with it.”
Each mission was worse than the last. No heroism. No glory for the greater good. Just death, terror, and the slow expansion of the Council’s invisible empire.
The hall slowly emptied as killers received their orders and vanished through different exits.
Finally, only the Triumvirate remained.
Alistair looked at them, expression unreadable. “You three have a new partner starting today.”
Rhys’s voice was soft, but the threat underneath could cut glass. “We work alone.”
Alistair didn’t flinch. “You’re three people, that’s already a unit.”
Kane snarled, stepping forward. “We are one.”
“This is not my call,” Alistair replied. “Orders came from higher than me. And higher than Ryker.”
The side door opened with a quiet creak.
Kaiden Black sauntered in, hands in his pockets, sunglasses perched on his nose even in the dim lighting. He looked completely unbothered, like he was walking into a casual lunch instead of a den of killers.
Kane barked a harsh laugh. “This idiot?”
Kaiden’s lips twitched. “Miss you too, Whitlock.”
The air crackled with tension.
Rhys’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously. “Explain.”
Alistair slid a final black envelope across the table. “The Council wants him integrated. He has… particular skills that complement yours. Shadow work. Infiltration. Information extraction. And apparently he’s very good at not dying.”
Kaiden stopped a few feet away, tilting his head at the Triumvirate. “Relax. I’m not here to hold your hands. I go where I’m told. Same as you.”
Saint’s ice-blue eye flicked to him, assessing. Kane looked two seconds from ripping Kaiden’s throat out. Rhys remained perfectly still, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Alistair continued, “Your mission is in Morocco. A rogue faction of djinn-blooded shifters, you are to eliminate the entire cell, retrieve every document and hard drive, and make sure no one ever finds the bodies. Kaiden has the entry point and the layout.”
He paused, then added with a thin smile, “And this time… try not to get distracted by pretty little Omegas. Ryker sends his regards.”
The Handler turned and left without another word, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
Silence fell.
Kane cracked his neck, staring at Kaiden like he was deciding which limb to break first. “If you slow us down, pretty boy, I’ll gut you and leave you for the vultures.”
Kaiden met his gaze without fear. “Noted. But if we’re doing this, we do it clean. No unnecessary bodies or distractions.” His hazel eyes flicked briefly to Rhys.
Rhys smiled.
It was small, beautiful, and utterly terrifying.
“Welcome to the team, Black,” he said softly. “Try to keep up.”
Saint moved first, brushing past Kaiden without a word, shoulder deliberately clipping him. Kane followed, still growling under his breath.
Rhys lingered for a second longer, golden eyes locking onto Kaiden’s.
Then he turned and followed his mates, leaving Kaiden standing alone in the Den.
The Morocco mission would begin at dawn.
And something told Kaiden that working with the Triumvirate was going to be far more dangerous and far more interesting than anything the Council had warned him about.
******
The desert night smelled of smoke, blood, and burning sand.
Kane stood frozen in the half-collapsed doorway of the hidden underground chamber, chest heaving, every inch of him dripping with the blood of the people they had just slaughtered above ground.
The female djinn shifter was on her knees in front of him.
She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
Her dark hair was matted with dust, violet eyes wide with terror.
She clutched two small boys, maybe four and six years old, tight against her chest.
Both children were sobbing, faces buried in her torn robes, tiny hands fisting the fabric like it could save them.
“Please…” she whispered, voice cracking. “Please don’t kill my babies. They’re innocent. They don’t know anything. Kill me if you have to, but not them. Please.”
Kane’s clawed hand trembled violently in the air, inches from her throat.
He couldn’t move.
Behind his eyes, the memory played on loop, his little brother’s face at fifteen, terrified, begging the same way. “Kane, don’t. Please, big brother…” The underground ring, the handlers screaming, the gun pressed into his hand. The sound his brother’s skull made when he finally pulled the trigger.
Tears cut clean tracks through the blood on Kane’s face.
“I..” His voice broke. “I can’t…”
Rhys and Saint stepped into the chamber behind him, both of them soaked in gore, eyes glowing in the dim lantern light. Kaiden lingered just outside the doorway, silent, hazel eyes watching everything.
Rhys’s voice was soft.
“Do it.”
Kane’s shoulders shook. A broken sound tore from his throat. “Please, Alpha… don’t make me, not them, not the kids. I can’t… I.”
Saint’s massive hand landed on Kane’s shoulder, squeezing once. Through the bond, his voice was gentle, pained.
We’re here. Breathe.
The woman looked straight at Kane, tears streaming down her cheeks. She rocked her sons gently even as they cried louder.
“They’re just babies,” she begged, voice raw and shattering.
“My husband is already dead upstairs. I have nothing left but them. Please… look at them. They’re so small. They haven’t even shifted yet. If you have any mercy left in you, any, spare them. Kill me slowly. Torture me. Do whatever you want to me, but let my sons live. I’ll do anything. Anything.”
The younger boy lifted his tear-streaked face and whispered in a tiny, trembling voice, “Mama… I’m scared…”
Kane’s claws hovered. Tears poured faster down his face, mixing with the blood of strangers. His hand shook so badly the air around it blurred.
Rhys stepped closer, voice low and steady, only for his ear.
“We have no choice this time, Kane. We can’t save them, not with Kaiden here and the Council watching. We leave no survivors, that was the order.”
The woman let out a sob, pressing desperate kisses to her sons’ heads. “Please… they’re all I have. Don’t take my babies from me. I’m begging you.”
Kane’s claws inched forward.
One tear fell from his jaw onto the older boy’s hair.
His hand trembled harder.
And then…
His claws moved.