Chapter 33
ELIZA
The canyon swallows sound in a strange way. Everything echoes—but not cleanly. It twists. Bends. Carries some noises farther than they should and swallows others entirely.
My footsteps feel too loud. My breathing too sharp. And behind it all— Something heavier moves through the forest. Tracking me. I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I can feel it.
That same cold awareness from before, like a line drawn straight between us.
Hunter. Target. Except— Not exactly. Because I’m not running blindly anymore. I’m choosing where this goes.
I push forward along the narrow trail, boots slipping slightly on loose gravel before I catch my balance and keep moving. The canyon walls rise on either side of me now, cutting off the wider forest paths, funneling everything into a single direction.
Exactly like we planned.
“Stay controlled,” I murmur under my breath.
“Don’t panic.”
The words help. A little. Another crash echoes behind me. Closer. I risk a glance this time. And immediately wish I hadn’t. It’s bigger up close. So much bigger than it looked from a distance.
The Prime Hybrid moves through the trees like it was built for destruction—muscle layered over muscle, its body too large for the terrain and yet forcing its way through it anyway.
And its eyes— They’re locked on me. Not searching. Not scanning. Locked. It’s not guessing anymore. It knows exactly where I am.
“Okay,” I breathe, turning forward again. “Okay.”
My pulse spikes, but my pace stays steady. Faster than a walk. Not quite a sprint. Just enough to keep distance without losing control. Because if I run too fast— I lose footing. I lose awareness. And that’s how this ends badly.
“You wanted me,” I whisper under my breath. “You’ve got me.”
The ground shifts slightly as I move deeper into the canyon, the terrain narrowing further, the walls closing in tighter.
This is it. The choke point. The place we built everything around. I slow just enough to orient myself, scanning the edges of the cliffside. Loose rock. Unstable ledges. Places where the earth has already begun to give way under time and pressure. Good. Exactly what we need.
A low, rumbling sound rolls through the canyon behind me. Closer. I turn this time.
Fully. The Prime Hybrid emerges from the tree line, stepping into the open stretch of canyon with a force that seems to claim the space instantly.
It stops. For a second. Just long enough to take me in. To confirm. Then it moves. Straight toward me. Fast. Too fast.
“Not yet,” I back up a step, then another.
I can’t let it close the distance here. Not before— A blur of motion slams into it from the side.
The impact cracks through the canyon like a gunshot.
Relief hits me so hard it almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
Cade. He drives the creature off its direct path, forcing it to turn, to engage, to focus on something other than me.
“Eliza, move!” he shouts.
I don’t argue. I don’t hesitate. I pivot and run deeper into the canyon, toward the exact point we marked earlier, every step calculated now, every movement intentional.
Behind me, the sounds of the fight explode into motion. Snarls. Impact. Stone breaking under force.
I reach the marked point and stop, turning sharply, scanning the cliffside again. There.
A section of rock that’s already unstable. Cracked. Ready. All it needs is enough force to tip it over the edge. I grab the nearest loose stone and test it. It shifts. Good.
My hands tighten. I glance back down the canyon. Cade and Nolan are driving the Prime Hybrid forward, exactly like we planned—but closer than I expected. Too close.
“Come on,” I whisper.
“Just a little farther.”
The creature fights them hard, resisting every step, but they keep pushing, forcing it into the narrowest part of the canyon. Into position. Into range. My heart pounds harder as the distance closes. Now. Almost now.
“Cade!” I shout.
He looks up. Just for a second. Just long enough to see where I am. To understand.
His movement shifts instantly.
“Now!” he roars.
I don’t think. I act. I drive my weight into the loose section of rock, shoving hard against it with everything I have. For a second— Nothing happens. Then— The stone gives. It shifts.
Cracks. And then the entire section breaks free. The sound is deafening.
Rock tears loose from the cliffside in a violent cascade, crashing down into the canyon below in a wave of debris and dust.
The Prime Hybrid jerks back, caught off guard, its movement disrupted just enough as the falling rock slams into the ground around it. Not a direct hit. Not enough to kill it. But enough. Enough to break its momentum. Enough to slow it down. Enough to give Cade the opening he needs.
Dust fills the air, thick and choking, obscuring everything for a moment as the canyon settles around the impact. I cough, stepping back slightly, trying to see through it. Trying to find them.
“Cade!” I call.
For a second, there’s nothing. Then— Movement. A shape cutting through the dust.
And then I see him. Standing between me and the creature. Blocking it. Again. Always.
The Prime Hybrid shakes off the debris, rising through the settling dust, slower now—but still very much alive. Still dangerous. Still focused. But now— It’s trapped. Nowhere to go but forward. Nowhere to escape. Cade’s gaze flicks to me briefly. Not long. Just enough.
“You did it,” he says.
Not relief. Not victory. Recognition. Because this isn’t over yet. Not even close. The creature lowers its head again, muscles coiling as it prepares to lunge. And this time— There’s nowhere left for either of them to retreat.
I take a step back, my breath steadying despite the chaos around me. Because I know what comes next. This isn’t about leading anymore. Or planning. Or positioning. This is the end.
The final fight. And I’m standing close enough to watch it happen.
The dust doesn’t settle all at once. It drifts. Clings. Hangs in the air like the canyon itself isn’t ready to reveal what comes next.
I step back another pace, shielding my eyes briefly as I try to track movement through the haze. I can hear them before I can see them. The low, violent snarl of the Prime Hybrid.
The answering growl from Cade—deeper, sharper, carrying something that sends a shiver down my spine even now. Not fear. Something else. Something protective. Possessive. Final.
When the air finally clears enough, I see them again. Cade stands braced, body angled slightly, every line of him coiled and ready. Across from him, the Prime Hybrid lowers its head, its massive form tense but no longer fluid the way it was before.
The rocks slowed it. Not enough to end it. But enough to change the balance.
“You’re not getting past him,” I whisper under my breath.
The creature doesn’t hear me. But something in me believes the words anyway. Cade moves first this time. Not waiting. Not testing.
He closes the distance in a blur, striking hard and fast, forcing the hybrid to react instead of dictate the pace. The impact echoes again, but this time it doesn’t drive him back.
This time— He holds. The hybrid snaps, claws lashing out, but its movements aren’t as clean as they were before. One of its hind legs falters slightly against the uneven ground left by the falling debris. Small. Barely noticeable. But enough.
Cade sees it too. He presses the advantage. Drives forward again.
The sound of bone and muscle colliding is brutal, raw, impossible to ignore. I force myself not to flinch, not to look away, even when instinct screams at me to do exactly that.
Because this matters. Every movement. Every second.
Nolan circles in from the side, looking for an opening, but the canyon is too tight now, too confined for all three of them to move freely. He hesitates just long enough to avoid getting caught in the direct line of attack.
“Stay back!” Cade snaps.
Nolan doesn’t argue. He adjusts instead, repositioning to block any attempt the hybrid might make to break past and escape the choke point. It’s not a three-on-one fight. It’s a controlled space. A contained battle. Exactly what we needed.
The Prime Hybrid lunges again, but this time Cade meets it with equal force, driving into its chest and forcing it back a step. Then another. It snarls, the sound cracking through the canyon with a fury that feels almost human in its frustration. It’s losing control. Not of itself.
Of the fight. And it knows it.
My hands curl into fists at my sides as I watch, every nerve in my body pulled tight with the need to do something. To help. To move. But there’s nothing left for me to do here. This part was always his.
The realization settles heavily but clearly. I didn’t bring the fight here so I could finish it. I brought it here so he could. The hybrid shifts suddenly, changing tactics again. It feints toward Cade— Then twists sharply, trying to break past him instead of through him.
“Cade!” I shout.
He’s already moving. Intercepting. Blocking. The collision this time is even harder, the force of it sending both of them crashing sideways into the canyon wall. Stone cracks under the impact, fragments falling loose around them as they struggle for position.
For a second, they’re too close. Too entangled. I can’t tell who has the advantage.
Then Cade surges upward, breaking the lock and driving the creature back again, forcing space between them. Space he controls. The hybrid staggers—just slightly—but it’s enough to confirm what we needed. It’s weakening. Not quickly. Not easily. But enough.
“End it,” Nolan mutters from somewhere to my left.
Not a command. Not an order. Just a truth. Cade hears it anyway. Or maybe he doesn’t need to. Because something shifts in him then. Something final. His stance lowers. Centers. Every movement becoming sharper. More deliberate. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
The Prime Hybrid roars again, louder than before, a last surge of defiance as it throws itself forward with everything it has left. And Cade meets it. Head-on. The impact shakes the canyon.
For a second, everything blurs into motion too fast to track—claws, teeth, force colliding in a violent exchange that feels like it could go either way. My heart slams hard enough to hurt.
“Cade—”
The word barely leaves my mouth. Because then— It shifts. The momentum changes. Cade twists. Redirects. Uses the creature’s own force against it in a way that sends it off balance just long enough— Just enough— For him to strike. Hard. Decisive. Final. The sound that follows is different.
Not the sharp crack of impact. Not the grind of struggle. Something deeper. Ending.
The Prime Hybrid freezes. Just for a second. Then collapses.
The ground seems to absorb the weight of it, the canyon falling suddenly, shockingly still in the aftermath. No movement. No sound. Just silence.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until my lungs burn and I drag in a sharp breath, my entire body trembling with the release of tension I didn’t even know I was holding.
“Cade,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move right away. He stays where he is, braced over the fallen creature, his chest rising and falling hard, every line of him still locked in the fight even though it’s over. Then— Slowly— He straightens. Turns. Finds me.
The moment our eyes meet, something shifts again. Not the sharp intensity of battle. Something deeper. Quieter. Alive.
“You’re okay,” he says.
It’s not a question. But I nod anyway.
“So are you.”
A beat passes. Then another. And the weight of everything that just happened settles between us. The fight. The risk. How close it all came to going the other way. Nolan steps closer, glancing down at the body before looking back up at Cade.
“It’s done,” he says.
Cade nods once.
“Yes.”
Final. Certain. Around us, the canyon feels different now.
Lighter. Like something oppressive has finally lifted.
But I know better. This isn’t the end of everything.
Not yet. There are still others out there.
Still remnants of what this creature led.
But the worst of it— The center of it— Is gone. Finally, we have a chance to breathe.
I step forward slowly, closing the distance between us, my gaze still locked on Cade.
“You did it,” I say.
He shakes his head slightly.
“We did it.”
Maybe. But standing here, looking at him, at the aftermath of everything we just survived— I know one thing for certain. This only ends because he didn’t stop. Didn’t falter.
Didn’t let that thing get past him. Not once. And now— It never will again.