I grab the unconscious wolf. Hoist him over my shoulder. Take the female hybrid in my arms.
“Follow me,” I say. “Stay close.”
We move toward the stairs. Slow. The mobile prisoners help those who can barely move. I’m carrying two. It’s not enough, but it’s what I can manage.
We reach the stairs. Start down them. The prisoners move painfully slowly, but they’re moving.
Below, I hear more guards. Security teams converging.
We’re not going to make it to the main exit.
Outside, an explosion rocks the building. Loud. The lights flicker.
Nadia. Creating her diversion. Through the bond, I feel her. Alive. Focused. Drawing attention away from my position.
She’s safe. Focus on the mission. Get them out.
The captives react to the explosion with fear. Some try to stop, panic setting in.
“Keep moving,” I order. “That’s our exit. Move.”
I get the group to the ground floor. There’s a service exit near the east side. Less defended than the main entrance.
“That way,” I point. “Service door. Get outside and run west. Someone will meet you.”
Nadia. She’ll find them. Get them to safety.
I set down the two I’m carrying. Make sure the mobile prisoners can help them.
“Go!” I order.
They move. Slow but moving. Heading for the exit.
I turn back toward the stairs. Back toward the cells. Back toward wherever they’re holding Kaylin.
The bond pulses. Nadia knows I’m going deeper. I feel her concern through the connection. Her fear. But also her trust. She’ll handle the extraction. I’ll find the girl.
Alarms are deafening now. Emergency lights strobing. Somewhere above, guards are searching the building.
I take the stairs up fast. Past level two. There must be another level. More cells.
Level three. The door is reinforced. Biometric lock and keypad. I tear through it with dragon claws. Metal shredding.
Inside: isolation cells. Smaller. More secure. For the worst cases or the most valuable subjects.
Three cells. Two empty. One occupied.
The third cell holds a young woman. Wolf hybrid. Early twenties. Barely recognizable as human.
Kaylin.
She’s worse than the files indicated. Much worse. Surgical scars cover most of her body, IV lines and monitoring equipment attached everywhere. Her breathing is so shallow, it’s almost imperceptible. Eyes closed. Barely alive.
I break the glass. Disconnect the medical equipment carefully. Lift her with infinite gentleness.
She’s light. Too light. Dying.
I carry her toward the stairs, moving fast. Above, I hear automatic weapons fire in response to the explosion. Nadia’s diversion escalating. I feel her—alive, fighting, holding their attention.
