As they reached the outer gate, I switched to the security cam at the entrance. The wolves fanned out, checking every angle. Dagger strutted up to the gate, rattled the chain, then grinned at the camera.
“Hey, Iron Valor! You in there?” he shouted, voice echoing.
I muted the audio. Maddie snickered. “What an asshole.”
Pearl just shook her head. “They’re almost cute, aren’t they?”
I could have laughed, but my stomach was in knots. I punched up the map overlay, watching as dots representing the enemy moved into our kill zone. I called the next phase:
“Arsenal, Gunner: stand by for breach. Once they’re all inside, we go hot.”
Arsenal: “Roger that.”
Gunner: “Waiting for your word, boss.”
The vampires hung back, eyeing the demon crew and occasionally glancing up at the camera. One of them—tall, black hair, pretty in a way that was almost offensive—tilted his head and looked straight down the lens. I felt a little chill.
The demons never moved, not even when the wind picked up and started to peel the loose paint off the sign above the gate. They just watched.
Now the main pack of wolves, thirty or more, flooded out of the bus and formed up, all in loose clusters. Most were young. None looked like they wanted to be there.
And then I saw him. Axel. My twin, my blood, my first friend and last enemy. He wore a jacket two sizes too big, face gaunt and pale. His eyes, even at this distance, looked haunted.
He moved with the other wolves, slow and hesitant. He was near the back, head down. For a second, I thought he’d break ranks and run, but Rook barked something and Axel fell in line. My hands shook. I fought to keep my voice steady.
“Main force is thirty, maybe forty. Demons in the rear. Vampires at the tree line,” I said into the mic.
Pearl put her hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Parker?”
I nodded. I wasn’t, but I had to be.
The gate stood between them and the heart of Iron Valor. It was heavy steel, welded shut and wrapped in a logging chain. Dagger pulled out a bolt cutter, snapped the links like thread, and gestured the others through.
Now the trap was set. I keyed in the command: “On my mark, collapse the kill zone. Arsenal, Gunner, take high points. Juliet, you’re up when they clear the second checkpoint.”
Juliet’s voice came back, calm and even: “Copy, standing by.”
The tension was a living thing, crawling under my skin. On the feeds, the enemy poured into the open, spreading themselves thin, moving faster now, the anticipation bleeding into panic.
I watched Dagger and Vex argue at the edge of the compound. She pointed to the south tower, making a slicing motion across her throat. Dagger shook his head, then shoved her aside. Typical. The demon leader sauntered behind them, hands in his pockets, looking utterly unconcerned.
I scanned the faces, looking for a sign—any sign—that they knew what was about to happen. They didn’t. Not a clue.
“Arsenal, Gunner: go,” I said.
There was a flurry of motion on the roof cam, then the sharp pop of suppressed gunfire. The lead truck’s tires exploded, the U-Haul sagging to the left. The wolves dove for cover. Vexrolled behind a boulder, cursing. Dagger hit the dirt, then started screaming at his men to return fire.
But there was nothing to shoot at. The compound was silent as a crypt.
I checked the drone: vampires and demons, still holding position, not even flinching. On the far end of the field, a lone figure moved through the shadows—Wrecker, running the side approach, setting charges at the fallback point.
I keyed the private channel. “You good?” I asked him.
“Perfect,” he replied, voice a low rumble. “Just tell me when to blow it.”
I glanced at the monitors. The kill zone was full. Every enemy was in the open, pinned down, with nowhere to run but forward or back.
I grinned. “Now.”
