Chapter 31
ELIZA
The town feels too quiet. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just… wrong. Like everything is holding its breath at once.
I stand in the center of the small community hall, watching as the last group of civilians filters inside under Clara’s direction. Families, older residents, a few people trying to act like this is all precautionary instead of necessary.
No one is asking questions out loud anymore.
They’ve heard it. All of them. The distant sounds echoing down from the mountains.
Howls. Not normal ones. The kind that carry too far, too sharp, too layered with something unnatural to ignore.
And beneath them— The sounds of fighting. Muted by distance, but unmistakable.
“Over here,” Clara says, guiding a woman and her young son toward a row of chairs. “Stay together. We’ll keep you updated.”
The woman nods quickly, gripping her son’s hand tighter than she probably realizes. I turn away, scanning the room. Everyone is accounted for. Or as close as we can get.
“This should be everyone,” I say, stepping closer to Clara.
“For now,” she replies.
Her voice is calm, but there is tension in the way she moves—efficient, focused, not wasting a single second.
“Any word from the front?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Not yet.”
That doesn’t help. But I nod anyway. Because there’s nothing else to do. Not yet. Another distant sound rolls through the air. Closer this time. Louder. A ripple of unease moves through the room as a few people shift, glancing toward the doors instinctively.
“It’s okay,” Clara says, her voice steady enough to cut through the rising tension. “You’re safe here.”
I want to believe that. I really do. But something in my chest tightens instead. Because I know what’s out there. And I know what it’s capable of.
Time stretches in strange ways when you’re waiting for something you can’t see. Minutes feel longer. Sounds feel sharper. Every small movement becomes something you notice. Track.
Interpret.
I move toward the back of the hall, where we’ve set up a temporary treatment area. Supplies laid out, cots ready, everything prepared in case— No. Not in case. When.
“They’ll start bringing them in soon,” Clara says quietly as she joins me.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to stay back here,” she adds.
I glance at her.
“Yes, I do.”
She nods once.
“Then stay focused,” she says. “Don’t let yourself get pulled into the noise.”
I take a breath.
“Right.”
Another howl cuts through the air. Closer again. Followed by something heavier. A sound that isn’t quite a roar—but close enough to make my skin tighten. Clara’s gaze flicks toward the door.
“You heard that,” I say.
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t one of ours.”
“No,” she agrees.
We don’t say anything else about it. We don’t need to.
The first injured wolf arrives less than ten minutes later. He stumbles through the door supported by two others, blood soaking through his shirt, his breathing uneven but controlled.
“Set him here,” Clara says immediately, already moving.
I grab the nearest clean cloth, helping guide him onto one of the cots.
“What happened?” I ask.
“First wave,” one of the wolves says. “They hit hard. Fast.”
“Where’s Cade?” I ask before I can stop myself.
The wolf shakes his head.
“Still out there.”
Of course he is. Clara presses down on the wound, her movements precise.
“Stay with me,” she tells the injured wolf. “You’re not done yet.”
He nods weakly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she replies. “But you will be.”
More footsteps sound at the door. Another wolf. Then another. Each one carrying a piece of what’s happening out there back with them. Clara works without pause. I follow her lead.
Clean. Stabilize. Wrap. Move to the next. It becomes rhythm. Necessary. Focused. Because if I stop to think about what each injury means— I won’t be able to keep going.
“Clara.”
The voice is strained. Urgent. I turn to see another wolf being helped inside—this one worse than the others. Paler. Shaking. Blood loss.
“Get him down,” Clara says, already moving.
We guide him onto a cot, and I immediately start cutting away the torn fabric at his side.
The wound is deep. Not just claws. Something heavier. Blunt force layered over tearing.
“What hit you?” Clara asks.
The wolf sucks in a breath.
“Not… one of the small ones,” he says.
My hands still for half a second.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
His eyes flick toward me. Wide. Focused in a way that cuts straight through the pain.
“The big one,” he says.
My stomach drops.
“The alpha?”
He nods weakly.
“It broke through,” he continues, his voice rough. “Didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop.”
Clara’s hands tighten slightly as she works.
“Where?” she asks.
“Canyon,” he says. “Then—through the line.”
A sharp silence fills the space around us. Because that shouldn’t have happened. Not with the plan. Not with the positioning.
“Where is it now?” I ask.
He swallows hard.
“Heading this way.”
The words hit like a physical impact.
“Are you sure?” I press.
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No doubt.
“It didn’t stay to fight,” he adds. “It moved past us. Like it was tracking something.”
I know the answer before I ask the next question.
“What?”
His gaze locks onto mine.
“You.”
Everything inside me goes cold.
“No,” Clara says immediately.
I barely hear her.
“That’s not confirmed,” she continues. “You’re making a leap—”
“It’s not a leap,” I say.
Because it isn’t. Not after everything we’ve learned. Not after what Cade said. Not after the way those creatures have been moving.
“It’s following my scent,” I continue. “That’s what they were designed to do.”
Clara’s expression tightens.
“That doesn’t mean it will reach town,” she says.
“It already broke through the defensive line,” I reply.
Silence. Heavy. Unavoidable.
“Then we hold here,” Clara says finally. “We keep the civilians inside and let the pack handle it.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
“Eliza—”
“If it’s coming here, Cade needs to know,” I say.
“He already knows it broke through.”
“Not this,” I reply. “Not that it’s targeting me directly.”
Clara steps closer.
“You are not going out there,” she says.
Her tone is firm. Unyielding. But it doesn’t change what I already know.
“If I stay here,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “I put everyone in this building at risk.”
“That’s not your responsibility,” she counters.
“It is if I’m the reason it’s coming.”
The words hang between us. Clear. Sharp. True. Clara exhales slowly, her gaze searching mine.
“You could die,” she says.
“Yes.”
“And you’re still considering this?”
“I’m not just considering it,” I reply.
I’m deciding. Another distant sound echoes through the air. Closer. Louder. A low, rumbling force that vibrates through the ground beneath my feet. Time just ran out. I grab my jacket from the back of a chair, pulling it on quickly.
“Eliza—”
“I have to go,” I say.
Clara catches my arm.
“Then at least take someone with you.”
I shake my head.
“No time.”
“That’s not a reason—”
“It’s the only one I have,” I cut in.
For a second, we just look at each other.
Then—
“Be careful,” she says quietly.
I nod once.
“I will.”
Even if we both know that’s not something I can promise.
The night air hits cold as I step outside. The town is dim, most lights out, everything pulled inward toward the center. Toward safety. Toward shelter. I move in the opposite direction.
Toward the forest. Toward the sound of the fight. Toward Cade.
The moment I cross the clearing, the noise sharpens. Closer now. More defined. Crashing movement. Snarls. The unmistakable sound of something large forcing its way through terrain it doesn’t belong in.
I don’t slow down. Don’t hesitate. Because there’s no space left for doubt. If that thing is coming for me— Then I’m not going to let it reach the town. I push into the trees, my breath steady despite the adrenaline surging through me.
“Cade,” I whisper under it.
Like he might hear me. Like that connection between us might carry something more than just instinct.
“I’m coming.”
The forest closes in around me. Dark. Dense. Alive with movement just beyond sight. And somewhere ahead— Something is moving fast. Something big. Something hunting. And I know, with absolute certainty— It’s not just heading toward the town. It’s heading toward me.
I force myself to slow down. Not stop. Just enough to think. Running blindly through the forest isn’t going to help anyone—not Cade, not the pack, and definitely not the people I just left behind. If anything, it makes me easier to track. Easier to corner.
I press my hand briefly against the nearest tree, grounding myself. Think. The canyon.
The plan we built. If the Prime Hybrid is tracking my scent, then I don’t just need to avoid it—
I need to control where it finds me. My breath steadies as the realization locks into place.
“Don’t run from it,” I murmur under my breath.
“Lead it.”
The words feel dangerous the second they leave my mouth. Because that means putting myself directly in its path. On purpose.
Another distant crash echoes through the trees—closer now, followed by the sharp snap of something breaking under immense force.
It’s not wandering. It’s closing in. Fast. My pulse kicks harder, but my direction shifts. When I take a moment to breathe, a tactical idea occurs to me.
The bottleneck in the canyon.
Not deeper into town. Not blindly into the fight. Toward the canyon. Toward the one place we might still have an advantage.
“If you want me,” I whisper, pushing forward again, “you’re going to have to follow.”
And something in the dark— Something big— Answers with a low, rolling sound that vibrates through the trees like it heard me.