Groundsense.
Stone surges up through the foundation, weaving between walls. Where his power touches, everything strengthens, and concrete becomes harder than steel.
“Will it hold?” I ask.
His amber eyes open. “Against vampires? Yeah. Against whatever you turn into if you lose control?” He meets my gaze, then breaks into a grin. “I’m not paid enough for that.”
Stonehide ripples over his skin, bark and granite knitting together as he roots himself into the foundation. I’ve learned that Bear Shifters are connected to the earth, and that bond allows them to shape stone, command plant life, and control anything born of the land. Grizz takes it one step further, and he becomes it.
I snort despite myself. “Good to know.”
“Relax,” he adds, the floor cracking softly beneath his hands. “If things go sideways, I’ll hold the building. Just… don’t nuke it.”
I smile sweetly. “Wow! Such faith. I feel deeply supported.”
He laughs deeply, the sound rumbling through the cracks in the concrete as I turn and walk back into the clubhouse. I find Hex on the second floor, no screens, no lights, just walls and floor covered in symbols—chalk ground fine as ash, with lines carved deep into the wood. Circles intersect, lines overlap, the air hums thick with pressure that has nothing to do with electricity, considering there isn’t any.
Hex crouches at the center, fingers moving fast, smearing chalk, correcting lines, muttering in a language older than Latin. “Wards,” he says without looking up. “Not digital, reactive.” The veins beneath his skin glow faintly, not neon but heat pressure and power barely contained. “Any supernatural breach trips the whole system… feedback loops, magical, neurological.” His grin is sharp. “They experience every fear they’ve ever absorbed.”
He taps a sigil with two chalk-stained fingers.
“Imagine being frozen in place while your nerves light up all at once. Your brain screaming that none of it’s real, but it’s right there anyway.” His eyes flick to me, dark and delighted. “The clown rushing you, the spiders crawling under your skin, the walls stretching, bleeding. Mirrors showing something that isn’t you anymore. A voice behind you asks what your favorite scary movie is.” He leans back, satisfied. “All your nerves are firing so violently, your body forgets how to move. How to breathe. How to tell what’s real.”
“You’re terrifying,” I interrupt him as sigils bloom across the floor, living runes that shift and breathe.
“You’re one to talk, Blood Witch.” He chuckles, his Failsafe Rune pulses beneath his shirt. “Just promise me something…when this is over, teach me how your power works. Imagine wards that respond to intent instead of proximity.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “You’re insane.”
“We all are. That’s why we survive.”
“All right… deal. But I’m getting out of here before you put me in an endless loop of children’s cartoons or something.”
His luminous blue eyes widen. “Oh shit, that’s a great one, children’s songs, those super annoying ones… Sloane, you’re a genius. I’m going to get right on that code now!”
Snorting, I start walking off, shaking my head. “Have fun with that.”
He waves me off. He is already deep in his new mission, and I exhale, knowing just how utterly terrifying being locked in a loop of children’s songs would be. A visible shudder runs down my spine at the thought.
In the basement armory, Hades moves with the precision of a priest conducting mass. His hands are colder than they should be, the scent of burned sage and frozen earth following him. Weapons cover the workbench—guns, knives, and stakes.
I watch him lift a bullet. His eyes go black, not metaphorically, but black as onyx, and he whispers words I can’t hear. The bullet changes. Through my Crimson Sight, death energy coils around the metal, a second skin.
“What does that do?” I ask quietly so I don’t shock him.
“Kills permanently,” he states as if he already knew I was behind him. No emotion, just fact. “These bullets destroy the thread connecting soul to flesh. No resurrection, no healing, just ending.”
He blesses another. And another.
“How many can you do?”
“All of them. But I won’t be worth much in the actual fight afterward.” He meets my eyes, expression steady. “My power is most useful before the battle begins.”
I watch death energy creep across the ammunition, spreading in delicate, lethal patterns, appearing as frost climbing glass. It’s beautiful in a way that makes my stomach knot, the kind of beauty that exists only because something else is about to be destroyed.
Suddenly, an explosion nearly throws me off my feet.
The blast slams into me without warning, a concussive force that steals the air from my lungs. The floor bucks beneath my feet, and for a split second, I’m weightless, balance gone, ears ringing so hard it feels like the sound is tearing through my head. Heat washes over my skin, followed by a pressure wave that sends my heart stuttering in my chest.
