Page 10 of Strays
As aegis, we only develop so far on our own. Unmated, we’re stronger than any human, but still nowhere near our full potential. When a pack bonds with a nyra, she triggers a second wave of development. Growth kicks back in. Muscle mass, height, sensory acuity: it all sharpens. Bonded packs reach Tier-Three. Some even push into Tier-Two.
But a Prime nyra changes everything. The transformation is massive. Prime bonds are what create Tier-One aegis, fit for Special Operations.
And of course, no one wants a stray pack anywhere near the elite.
“I’ll be honest with you,” the commander says. “I never gave much thought to artificial packs. But Steve Bureau swears you pass every pack-bond test he’s designed. According to your files, despite being unmated, in some physicalparameters you already match Tier-Three. So, I don’t give a damn what kind of pack you are. I see no reason to waste the possibility of a new pack for Special Ops.”
Jay speaks up, his voice careful. “Does she know? Does the nyra know we’re strays?”
“She does,” the commander confirms. “I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been informed of your status and already agreed to a match meeting.”
The tightness in my chest isn’t rage this time.
“When’s the meeting?” I ask.
The commander sighs. “It was scheduled for next Thursday. But that obviously won’t happen now. You can’t have a match meeting until at least four weeks after any disciplinary incident. Eight weeks after a suspension.”
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“I’m overruling Captain Smith on this,” he continues. “I’ll remind him that per protocol, he can’t issue a suspension until the Use of Force Review Board has completed its investigation. You’ll receive a formal reprimand on record, but no suspension.
“Your meeting will be rescheduled for March 21st at the MAB main office. But listen carefully: if you step out of line again, I don’t care what the reason is, you’ll be on your own.”
The moment the commander walks out, and the door shuts behind him, we look at each other in disbelief.
It’s not even noon, but it feels like a lifetime since the end of our night shift. We should be bone-tired and starving since we’ve been working for over sixteen hours, but after everything, I feel like a wire pulled too tight, energy crackling under my skin.
Fear. Joy. Rage. Hope. All of it at once.
My brothers are no better; their scent is a mess of emotions too.
I wish we could head straight to the park and run until we burn off the overload and get our minds and bodies fully under control again.
But we don’t get to go until we finish the paperwork: use-of-force reports, incident statements, justification logs. So even though we’re vibrating with the need to move, we drag ourselves back to our desks.
Around us, the other officers pretend they’re working, but they’re watching our every move. When Balls walks past our desks, he doesn’t say a word, but his face is red with hate. His jaw’s clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
I force myself to focus. The form blurs in front of me, lines swimming as I try to remember the right sequence, the right phrasing, the damn protocol for describing a lethal engagement. My hands are steady, but my brain won’t sit still.
Jay has run his hands through his hair so many times, it’s now standing up inall directions.
Across from me, Shane keeps tapping his foot against the floor, the nervous rhythm doing anything but helping, but since we’re not alone, I wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. In front of anybody else, we show nothing but unity. Not a single crack, no matter how small.
We finish in just under two hours. Fastest we’ve ever done it, but it still feels like forever.
And then we’re finally free.
I take a deep breath, letting the fresh air expand my lungs as we exit the station and cross the few blocks to the park.
The place is a sad excuse for green space: just a patchy strip of grass wedged between a drainage ditch and a crumbling basketball court, with one dying tree and a rusted swing set that groans in the wind.
But it’s close. It’s open. And it’s all we’ve got.
An hour and a half later, after nothing but the sound of our feet and the burn in my lungs, I finally feel empty enough.
