Page 2 of Howl For A Kiss
The magical barriers shimmered, then collapsed like morning mist.
"Now," Elena hissed.
They burst through the door in choreographed violence, moving like extensions of each other's intent. Elena's knife found her target's throat before he could cry out, while Tyler's hands twisted his guard's neck with lethal efficiency.
The archives room's shelves towered around them like sentinels guarding forbidden knowledge. Elena's fingers traced along dusty spines until she found what they'd risked everything for—an aged book containing Council records from three centuries ago. Her tactical bag swallowed the evidence of the Council's systematic corruption.
"This is it," she whispered, her pulse hammering against her throat.
Tyler checked his watch. "Eight minutes elapsed. We need to move."
They retraced their path through the maintenance tunnels, their footsteps barely echoing in the confined space. Elena's skin buzzed with an energy she couldn't name—part adrenaline, part something deeper that made her bones ache.
The maintenance tunnel's exit beckoned ahead, promising escape into the snow-covered forest. Elena's breath misted in the frigid air as they approached the final door.
"Clear," Marcus reported over comms. He and Jake had maintained perimeter watch while Elena's team infiltrated the building.
They emerged onto the headquarters' back lawn, where pristine snow stretched toward the treeline. Elena's boots crunched through the powder as her team formed their escape formation. Freedom lay fifty meters ahead—just a sprint across open ground.
Muzzle flashes erupted from the shadows.
"Contact!" Tyler roared, shoving Elena behind a concrete barrier as bullets whined past their heads.
The ambush exploded around them with lethal precision. Council guards materialized from concealed positions, their weapons spitting death into the night. Elena rolled behind cover, her pistol barking as she returned fire. The ancient record book pressed against her spine—worth more than their lives, but meaningless if they all died here.
"Elena, move!" Tyler's voice cut through the gunfire.
She sprinted toward the next piece of cover, her body moving with fluid grace despite the chaos. Maggie followed, her supplies jingling with each desperate step. Marcus and Jake laid down suppressing fire, their muzzle flashes painting shadows across the snow.
A Council guard rose from behind a snowbank, his rifle tracking Elena's movement. Tyler intercepted the shot meant for her chest.
The bullet punched through his skull with wet finality.
"Tyler!" Elena's scream tore from her throat as her best friend crumpled into the crimson-stained snow.
Rage flooded her system—primal, consuming fury that made her vision blur. The golden rings around her pupils flared as something wild stirred beneath her skin. She emptied her clipinto the guard who'd killed Tyler, watching the guard's body jerk with each impact.
"Elena, we have to go!" Maggie grabbed her arm, dragging her from Tyler's cooling corpse.
More guards closed in from all sides. Marcus fell next, his blood painting abstract patterns across the pristine white ground. Jake's final scream echoed across the compound before bullets silenced him forever.
Elena and Maggie sprinted toward the forest's embrace, their breath forming desperate clouds in the frozen air. Pursuit thundered behind them—boots pounding through snow, voices shouting orders, and the mechanical clatter of weapons being reloaded.
The trees swallowed them, branches whipping against their faces as they plunged deeper into the wilderness. Elena's lungs burned with each ragged breath, but the ancient records remained secure against her back. Tyler's sacrifice, Marcus and Jake's deaths—their blood had purchased this evidence.
"This way," Elena gasped, her father's survival training guiding them through the moonlit maze of pine and cedar.
Maggie stumbled beside her, blood seeping through her jacket sleeve.
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs as they fled deeper into the snow-covered wilderness. Tyler's lifeless blue eyes haunted her mind. Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, had died protecting her. The weight of his sacrifice pressed heavier than the stolen records strapped against her spine.
By the time they reached the rebel safehouse, Elena's composure had crystallized into something brittle and dangerous. The converted warehouse sat hidden among towering pines, its reinforced windows glowing with warm light against the November darkness. Home. Safety. Words thatmeant nothing when Tyler would never walk through those doors again.
Elena stumbled into her small office as grief slammed into her chest like a physical blow. Three rebels died tonight. Marcus, Jake, and Tyler—all gone because she'd underestimated the Council's defenses.
"Thermal tracking," she whispered, the realization cutting deeper than any blade. "They had thermal tracking now."
How could she have been so arrogant? So reckless? Her father's survival lessons echoed mockingly in her mind—always anticipate the enemy's capabilities, never assume your advantage. She'd thought stealth would carry them through, the same tactics that had succeeded on smaller missions. But this wasn't some human operative outpost or Council holding. This was the Council's primary headquarters, and she'd waltzed in with four rebels like they were raiding a supply closet.
