Page 58 of The Wolf

“Let Satan handle the rest.”

“He can’t start nuking this place down yet. The tunnels will collapse on you. You need to abort!”

Before I can reply, one of the soldiers shouts, “Deploy the drones!”

A high-pitched whine fills the air, and I look up to see a swarm of small, metallic devices descending from a ceiling vent. They’re armed with silver-tipped tranquilizer darts. One dives toward me, and I barely manage to swat it aside before it fires.

The centaur’s collar falls away just as one of the drones zips toward Farah. He rears up, hooves striking the air, and slams down on the drone with a resounding crunch.

“About time,” Edwin mutters, baring his teeth in a grim smile.

The centaur exhales sharply, its muscular frame shivering as it glances around, torn between charging the soldiers or running. Finally, it picks up one of the fallen shields and gallops forward, crashing into the human line like a battering ram.

But things aren’t shifting as rapidly as needed. The soldiers are holding their ground, and the creatures we’ve freed are still outnumbered and disoriented. Silver rounds ricochet off the walls, and flames from the flamethrowers sear the air, leaving scorched streaks along the white tiles. The sharp tang of blood mingles with the acrid scent of silver and burning fur.

I lunge at a soldier with the grenade launcher, claws flashing. His shield blocks my first strike, but I turn in the air, slamming my weight against him. The shield buckles under the force, and he’s sent sprawling. My teeth sink into his throat before he can recover, his gurgling scream cut short. I don’t get a chance to savor the small victory—two more soldiers charge at me, their rifles aimed at my head.

“Alex, down!” Edwin’s voice bellows.

I duck instinctively as Edwin barrels into the soldiers, ripping one’s arm clean off with a brutal swipe of his claws. The other soldier stabs at him with a silver-tipped bayonet. Edwin twists, but not fast enough. The blade pierces his side, and he roars in pain, blood pouring from the wound.

“Edwin!” I snarl, cutting down the soldier with a single blow before dragging him to cover.

“I’m okay,” he growls through gritted teeth, clutching his side. But the blood soaking his fur tells me otherwise.

Seeing his father like this, Maddox gets emotional and leaps onto a soldier wielding a flamethrower, his claws shredding the man’s protective gear. The soldier screams as flames engulf him, but Maddox doesn’t escape unscathed. He takes a blast to the chest and stumbles back, patting out the flames with a pained snarl, his fur smoking.

Edwin lets out a howl of rage. “Why is it always your stupid ass?!” he scolds his boy.

“I’m fine!”

He is as fine as his father, but I stay quiet, knowing those are not life-threatening injuries—thankfully.

“You won’t be when your mother learns about this,” Edwin retorts.

And his other boy fares no better. A drone zips past Tristan, firing a burst of tranquilizer darts. One lodges in his shoulder, and his movements falter. He manages to crush the drone with a desperate swing of his claws before another soldier drives a blade into his leg. Tristan collapses, snarling and bleeding, but still trying to crawl back into the fight.

This is helpless.

I look at Farah, who’s working on another collar around the bear mutant’s neck, and then at the approaching reinforcements—more vampire soldiers and wolf hybrids close in on us as we’re being surrounded.

“Farah, we need another way out,” I call as the idea of a good outcome drifts farther and farther away each second.

“I can’t break the collarsandmake a door appear at the same time!” she snaps back. I can feel the weight of the pressure lying on her shoulders. While she’s also trying her hardest not to pay attention to us and have her maternal love for us get the best of her with worry.

“Then stop the collars,” I say quietly. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

Her hesitation is brief but telling. She abandons the creature she’s working on and turns her focus to the far wall, her hands glowing brighter as she begins carving out an escape route.

Finally, a group of vampires rushes in—our allies—Penny at their lead, and a couple of witches by her side. They move in tandem, speedily ripping through the soldiers as blood sprays across the walls. Katia’s ferocity is especially unmatched as she strikes with surgical precision, dismantling the soldiers before they can reload. But their team takes hits too—one of the vampires is incinerated by a flamethrower, his wail echoing in the tunnels, and the other loses his head.

The chaos intensifies as more mutants are released. Some are hesitant, their instincts dulled by years of captivity and torture. Others leap into action immediately, joining the fray against their captors. The hallway becomes a blood-soaked battlefield, nothing like the pristine space it used to be, the cries of soldiers drowned out by roars and howls.

Then I hear it—a deep, resonating sound, almost a growl but far more menacing. A double-locked, windowless cell is at the end of the hallway. One of the witches managed to open the first lock, and now the cell door shudders as the creature insideslams its body against it, the reinforced steel warping with each impact.

I approach cautiously, signaling for the others to stay back. One final slam, and the door bursts open, revealing the creature in all its terrifying glory. The minotaur—massive and muscular, with matted reddish-brown fur—towers over everyone present, myself included. His bull’s head lowers, steam snorting from his wide nostrils into my face. Eyes like raging infernos bore into me, and for a moment, it’s unclear whether he will attack.

“We’re here to free you,” I say calmly, meeting his gaze. “Not to fight.”

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