I blinked. The thought had never really occurred to me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe get a real job. Maybe write a book about all of this.”
Maddie snorted. “Better change the names.”
Pearl smiled, then turned back to the monitor. “I’m glad you’re with us, Parker.”
I was too. But I couldn’t say it out loud.
There was a beep: incoming alert. I snapped to it, eyes on the monitor, waiting for the first sign of motion.
Wrecker came back just then, his boots caked with mud and snow. He put a hand on my shoulder, and in that moment I felt the mate bond kick, a pulse of heat through the cold. He didn’t say anything, just squeezed once, then let go.
“I’m ready,” he said, voice so low only I could hear. “You?”
“Always,” I said.
He nodded, then left again, heading to his assigned station outside the bunker.
The war room monitors glowed with promise or threat; every radio hummed with half a dozen voices. I could feel the tension in the air, electric and wild.
We were as ready as we’d ever be.
I sipped my coffee, let the caffeine burn a hole through the fear. My fingers hovered over the keys, waiting for the first sign of trouble.
And when it came, I’d be ready.
At 6:03 a.m., the first truck appeared on the southern feed. A U-Haul, the kind you’d rent to move your grandmother’s couch, only this one had all the markings stripped, its windows painted over in flat-black. Two more trucks followed, then an old school bus with the roof cut low, its interior dark as a mausoleum. The lead vehicle crawled down the approach, twin beams panning the frozen road ahead. Nobody tried to be subtle.
I watched it all from the command seat, three screens aglow in a field of gray. My hands moved on autopilot: a finger flicked the drone cam to thermal, another dialed in the compound’s perimeter grid, a third toggled the directional mics embedded along the main road. Pearl hovered behind me, a mug of tea cupped in both hands, her gaze soft but steady. Maddie chewed the end of a pencil, updating the call-in sheet as each contact hit the outer line.
“South quadrant,” I said into the headset. “Three vehicles, two dozen bodies minimum. Arsenal, you got eyes?”
A second of static. Then Arsenal’s voice: “Copy. Confirm three. Maybe more in the bus, but hard to see through the tints.”
Gunner, a lazy drawl: “We’re on the roof. Can take the tires anytime.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see. “Hold for now. Let them stack up. I want a full house.”
Pearl reached over, squeezed my wrist. “You’re doing fine,” she whispered.
I wished I believed her.
On the monitors, the lead truck braked hard, skidded in the frost, then rolled to a stop outside the front gate. The bus angled itself sideways, blocking the only clear exit. Five, six, ten wolves piled out of the U-Haul, each wearing the same dollar-store body armor and carrying a mix of handguns and rifles. I recognized Dagger first—his hair, his height, the way he barked orders and shoved the smaller men ahead. Rook followed, all muscle and dead-eyed focus, a wolf tank. Vex emerged last, her white-blond hair buzzed tight, face painted with black camo stripes. The rest were unknowns, but their posture was the same: tense, adrenalized, hungry.
Behind them, the bus doors hissed open. Out stepped the vampires, six in all, dressed in matching suits and gloves, hair slicked and faces sharp as knives. Their eyes scanned the terrain, slow and reptilian. I felt my skin crawl.
The last to arrive was the demon crew. I knew instantly. Even on the cameras, their silhouettes were wrong. Too tall, too thin, shadows pooling around their feet like oil. They stood apart from the others, unmoving. The biggest one—the leader, I guessed—wore a long coat and a smile that never reached his eyes.
They started up the road, slow and deliberate. I keyed the directional mic and listened in.
Dagger, loud and cocky: “Told you it’d be empty. They all bailed.”
Vex: “Or they’re waiting. Don’t get cocky, D.”
Dagger: “You calling me dumb?”
Vex: “No, I’m calling you dead if you don’t pay attention.”
They bickered, voices pitched low but mean. I let it play out, the background noise to the main event. Every so often, I’d catch Rook say “Quiet,” and the rest would shut up for a beat. They were scared. Good.
