We descend quickly, staying hidden in the tree line until we’re close. Then, without a backward glance, I take a breath and step out into the open. Walk directly toward the main gate. Just as planned.
Nadia hangs behind, hidden in the trees. My beast rails at leaving her, but we both know this is right.
Dragon energy floods my system. Not shifting. Just enough to project authority. Command presence.
The gate guard sees me approaching. Raises his weapon. “Stop. Identify yourself.”
“Commander Jericho Allon.” I keep walking. Voice hard with command. “Syndicate special operations. Here for facility inspection.”
“I wasn’t notified—”
“You weren’t cleared for notification. Open the gate.”
He hesitates. Checks his tablet. I know he won’t find authorization. But the confusion during shift change, my rank, the confidence in my voice—it might buy seconds.
“Sir, I need to verify with—”
“You need to open this gate before I report your obstruction to Ivory League command. I don’t have time for security theater.”
Behind me, in the trees, Nadia is moving into position. Ready to create the diversion I’ll need later. Ready to extract prisoners once I get them out.
My dragon tracks her movement, even though I can’t see her. Awareness of her location. Her heartbeat. Something pulling tight between us. Not fully formed but strengthening with each passing moment.
Mate. Know where she is. Always.
I feel something snapping into place. Fragile but there. A humming connection.
The guard looks at his tablet again. At me. Fear of reprisal overriding protocol.
The gate opens.
I walk through without looking back. But I feel her. Safe. Moving into position. The knowledge settles something in my chest.
Inside the compound, everything is organized chaos. Shift change in progress. Guards moving between posts. Attention divided. Just what we need.
I head straight for the main building, project authority, my dragon presence making people move aside. The interior is sterile. White walls. Fluorescent lighting. It smells like a hospital. Disinfectant mingling with blood and fear.
I know the layout from the files. Cells are two levels up.
I take the stairs. Pass two guards who nod respectfully. Don’t question my presence.
Level one: laboratories. Through the windows, I see equipment. Examination tables. Medical instruments designed for torture disguised as research.
Level two: the cells.
The door requires biometric access. I rip it open with dragon strength. Metal screaming. Alarms should trigger, but the shift change has security systems cycling. Thirty seconds before someone notices.
I step into the corridor.
Blood. Waste. Infection. The smell of suffering and death.
Then I see them. The cells line both sides of the corridor. Glass-fronted. Each one holding a prisoner. Some are conscious. Many aren’t. All of them are in terrible condition.
There’s a male shifter in the first cell. Early twenties. Covered in surgical scars. IV lines running into both arms. Unconscious. Breathing shallow.
Next cell: female hybrid. Can’t tell what species. Her body is wrong. Bones at odd angles. Skin mottled with discoloration. Eyes open but unseeing.
Third cell: another wolf hybrid. Teenager. Thin to the point of starvation. Awake. Watching me with eyes that hold no hope.
