Sam stared at herself in the mirror. It was… wrong. It was weird and it was wrong and it was incredibly off-putting. Brown hair did not suit her in the slightest. She sighed and sucked it up. It would only be for today, anyway. She buttoned up her dress shirt over the bullet-proof vest that Pedro had fitted onto her and Leif earlier. He was currently downstairs, going over the map with Brooke. Sam didn’t want to be anywhere near her, so she was staying upstairs until she left, as was Leif. She couldn’t believe that Brooke was the reason for it all. Sure, she didn’t know how Roxy would be treated, but that didn’t change the fact that she lied to all of them. She was still the ultimate cause of Roxy’s torture. Sam clenched her fists and tried not to think about it, lest she go downstairs and try to punch the girl again. Roxy was still asleep according to the mark, but she was awake last night when they were going over the plan. Roxy had felt Sam’s burst of hope and had replied with determination of her own. She hoped it meant that Roxy knew she was coming for her, but the emotional transfer was far from specific. The determination was a good sign, though. It meant that Roxy was still holding on, still staying strong as best she could throughout it all. Roxy was determined to see her again, and Sam was very eager to make her birthday wish come true.

With her shirt all buttoned up and her hair braided, the only things she needed before she was ready was to have Pedro help her with her tie, and to get some makeup to cover her scar. Ava had promised to help on that front, on the condition that Sam bought her some more hair dye after using it all up last night, which was fine by her. She hadn’t expected to need two boxes to do all of her hair, but she wasn’t exactly being super efficient with it, either. The shit stunk to high hell and the feeling of it against her scalp made her want to puke. If she never had to dye her hair again, it would be too soon.

“Yo, Sam,” Ava said, poking her head into the bathroom. “I’ve got some… bad news.”

“Oh no,” Sam whined. “What is it?”

“I don’t have any foundation or concealer in your skin tone. If you want me to cover up that scar, I’ll have to cover most of your face and neck, too.”

Sam grimaced just at the thought. She hated the feeling of foundation on her skin and having it over her scar would be bad enough, let alone her entire face. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. Our skin tones aren’t that different.”

“Girl, you’re as pale as the driven snow. I’ve got my summer tan going on, the difference is night and day, and it’s not gonna hold up if anyone gets a close look at your face.”

Sam groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding. Surely there’s something else we can do?”

“Oh! Oh! I can help!” Leif called from down the hall. She ran to the bathroom, already dressed and ready to go, and cutting quite the striking figure in her suit. Sam was incredibly envious of the way brown hair suited her so much better, but it made sense, given that it was actually her natural colour. Sam had gotten so used to the green that she’d almost forgotten that fact. She was also jealous of the fact that Leif could tie her own tie, but she wasn’t going to bring that up. “I brought my makeup over to help clean up my face. The last thing I want is for a hunter to clock that I’m not… th-that I’m trans, and for that to blow our cover. Sam and I are both pale as hell, so the tones should match up close enough.”

“Alright, firstly,” Sam started. “Thank you so much because I’m not sure I can handle having makeup all over my face without losing my mind. Secondly, I’m sure you won’t have to worry about anything. You pass super well. I would’ve had no idea if we didn’t all go to school together. The hunters will have no idea either, especially with how fine you’re looking in that suit, cuz seriously, damn.”

Leif chuckled. “I’m trying to look serious, not sexy, but I very much appreciate the compliment. Now, let’s get that coverup done so we can head out.”

Sam agreed wholeheartedly. “The sooner the better.”

Once her makeup was done and Pedro had gotten everything he needed from Brooke and sent her on her way, he helped her do up her tie and fit her shoulder holster. She pulled on her blazer and sunglasses and observed herself in the mirror one last time. Despite the unnatural brown hair, she had to say, she was looking pretty damn good. She wished Roxy could see her now, but consoled herself with the thought that, should all go well, she’d get to see her later regardless. In truth, she was incredibly nervous, and she could tell Leif and Pedro were too, they were just hiding it. It wasn’t that she was scared to fight, no. She was honestly more nervous about finding out Roxy’s condition firsthand. All of the puzzle pieces she’d been given were painting a horrific picture, and they were only incomplete fragments of it. Roxy’s severed finger, the photos of her skin being sliced up, Brooke’s account of her getting branded with hot metal. What else had her poor girlfriend been subjected to? It hurt too much to think about. One thing was certain, though. She was going to tear that Emmerich bastard apart, limb from limb. They wanted a direwolf? They were gonna get a fucking direwolf.

“Hey, Sam,” Pedro called. She turned to him. He was holding out a pistol. “Take this. I know you’re probably not gonna use it, but it’s handy to have anyway.”

She took it from him and inspected it. A Colt 1911, the first gun they ever trained with. She was never really any good at it, but it was a fun time nonetheless. She checked the mag. Eight rounds, more than enough for whatever purpose she could have for it. She made sure the safety was on and slipped it into her holster. “Thanks. I’ll probably end up giving it to Roxy when we find her, if she’s in fighting shape. She’ll no doubt want a weapon of some sort.”

Pedro smiled. “I’d call you optimistic about her condition, but knowing her, she’ll probably be ready to jump into action the second we get her out of her cell, or wherever we find her. That girl’s a fighter, through and through. Still though, we should be prepared for if she can’t move on her own.”

“I can carry her if it comes to that.”

“I know, I just don’t want to lose our strongest fighter if we need to make a quick exit with her. I talked with Brooke, and it sounds like she hasn’t been getting much to eat, which, while awful, means that Leif will probably be able to carry her if need be.”

Sam frowned and clenched her fists. “Yeah. It already looked like she’d lost weight in those photos, and they were only a few days in.”

Pedro put a hand on her shoulder and smiled comfortingly. “Hey, don’t worry. When we get her out, we’ll treat her to the biggest feast we can pull together.”

Sam smiled back bittersweetly, tears prickling her eyes. “She’ll probably put hot sauce on everything so no one else can eat it.”

Pedro chuckled. “Yeah.” 

He pulled back and took a deep breath before clapping his hands resolutely, his eyes lighting up a burning amber. “Alright, chica. Everything’s ready, and there’s no time to waste. Let’s go get our girl back.”

—

Roxy opened her eyes to the murky darkness of her cell. She was lying on her back, not that she really had any choice. The fresh burns on her front were still brutally painful. Her back, at least,  had stopped tormenting her for the most part. Her heart was on fire with emotion, fierce determination swimming through her veins. Sam was determined, too. She wondered why. Maybe they’d finally had a breakthrough in the investigation? Maybe they’d finally found out where she was? She wouldn’t be too surprised if Brooke had gone to them after what happened yesterday. Still, though, if that wasn’t the case, she couldn’t just sit around waiting for them. Emmerich was getting bolder by the day, and it was only a matter of time before he crossed the line. Roxy refused to let that happen. She was going to get out today, regardless of whether or not Sam and the others were coming for her as well. She wouldn’t let herself get captured again, wouldn’t give Harrison the opportunity to cut something else off of her, to break her arms and legs and leave her for the men to use as they please. She would kill herself before she let that happen.

The door opened. Training time again. She obediently got up and followed Emmerich out into the hall.

“Are you looking forward to training today, Roxanne? Remember what we discussed yesterday? Today’s your last day! Isn’t that exciting?” he asked.

Roxy had no choice but to reply, to tell him what he wanted to hear, but when she opened her mouth and tried to speak, nothing came out but a pitiful little squeak that constricted her throat and sent her into a painful coughing fit. Once she recovered, she tried again, just about managing to rasp out an almost inaudible reply.

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckled smugly at her difficulty, as if it wasn’t his fault to begin with. Whatever. She didn’t need her voice to escape. As long as she could still move, still fight, nothing else was important. It was vital that she didn’t get punished today, and not just to quell the crippling fear of the horrible possibility that Emmerich had teased her with. She needed to avoid punishment to make sure she was still in fighting shape when her chance came, whatever that chance might be. She would make it through training today without messing up. She had no other choice.

They made it to Emmerich’s office and went through the usual song and dance. He ordered her around and she followed those orders. He hit her with a cane and she didn’t let herself react to it. He told her to turn around and bend over and she did it, burying the humiliation that burned every inch of her soul in response. It would all be over soon.

They finally reached the bit of ‘training’ that she’d failed yesterday, though she was pretty certain it was anything but training. It was all just for Emmerich’s sick pleasure. Why would they need a soldier who sat there and didn’t move while the trainer touched them in uncomfortably intimate ways? Honestly, she was pretty certain most of the soldiers the hunters trained didn’t have to go through half of the shit she did. Was it because she was a girl, or because she had the misfortune of being sent to the one outpost with Emmerich in it?

Regardless, she couldn’t let herself mess up again. She sat there and suffered as he had his fun, trying to imagine she was anywhere else. He held her face, pulled her hair, slapped her, choked her until she almost blacked out. That last one almost sent her into a panic attack, but she forced it down, suppressed it all. Her emotions didn’t matter. Whatever he did to her didn’t matter. She just had to push through. Ignore it. Survive.

It lasted a long time. Too long. She felt nauseous. She wanted to tear off every inch of skin he’d laid his disgusting hands on. It took her a while to realise that he was testing her for a reaction again, only making the connection when he dug his thumb into one of her half-healed cuts and re-opened the wound. She had to tense her entire body to suppress her scream.

Roxy was completely dissociated by the time he finished. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he pulled away. She couldn’t remember how far he’d gone, but the slimy feeling of his touch lingering on her skin told her enough of a story. She wanted to puke. She wanted to die.

Emmerich backed up to his desk, a ponderous smile on his face. “I have to say, I honestly didn’t expect this. I thought you’d be much too prideful to sit through all of that, but clearly my lessons have paid off. I’m proud of you, Roxanne.”

Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. Die. 

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she attempted to thank him for the compliment, as she’d been trained to. Her broken voice made it difficult, but Emmerich seemed to understand her quiet, painful rasping.

“Stand up and come with me, soldier. I have a gift for you.”

She did as she was told and followed him behind the desk. He was rifling through one of the drawers, looking for something. His back was turned. Her adrenaline suddenly spiked. This was it.

A chance.

She quickly scanned her surroundings, looking for anything she could use. If worse came to worst, she could always try to choke him out with her cuffs, but ideally it wouldn’t come to that. Her eyes locked onto the big metal crucifix that was hanging on the wall. It was suspended off of a hook with a tiny string, it wouldn’t be at all hard to pull off and use as a weapon. That was it. That was what she would use.

So why wasn’t her body responding to her?

She tried to reach out, tried to grab the cross, but her arms refused to move. She tried to get her legs to move, to kick, to do anything, but she couldn’t. She… she was too scared. She didn’t want to get hurt again. If she did anything wrong, Emmerich would punish her. If she disobeyed, Emmerich would punish her. She didn’t want to be punished again. She wanted to be good, she wanted to be obedient, so she wouldn’t get hurt. She was so tired of hurting. So tired. If she was a good soldier, she would be left alone. Good soldiers followed orders.

Emmerich turned back around. The chance was gone. She looked down to see what he’d grabbed from the drawer, but his hands were empty. A glance at his face revealed a contemplative, curious expression.

“You know, Roxanne, now that your obedience training is finished, I won’t be seeing you as much anymore. That… saddens me, if I’m honest with myself. I don’t want to see you go. I was going to give you a ring that would mark you as an official soldier in training, but, honestly, I think I’d rather keep you to myself. I’ve… grown fond of you, Roxanne, and it has been a long time since I’ve had anyone to warm my bed. Would you like that?”

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

“Yes, sir,” she rasped, helpless to stop her ingrained automatic response from coming out. Emmerich’s smile was awful in its brightness.

“I would like to give you a necklace that once belonged to my wife. Would you take it?”

She nodded, her eyes unseeing. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. It was too awful.

“Let me just find it for you.”

Emmerich turned back to the drawer and all of a sudden she was moving. She watched behind a thick sheet of glass in slow motion as her hands closed around the cold metal of the crucifix and lifted it off of the wall. She swung with all of her might. There was a wet cracking sound, and Emmerich collapsed to the ground. Everything was muffled to her ears. There was a small red stain on the edge of the cross. More red was leaking out of Emmerich’s head, colouring his grey hair and spreading across the ground.

Did… did she just kill a man?

No… No, he was still twitching. Still breathing. Still gasping, still struggling for survival. His hands weakly scrabbled for purchase on the unforgiving ground.

It wasn’t good enough.

She brought the cross down on his head again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again and again and again and again and again.

She brought that metal cross down until she broke through to the floor. The red had grown from a puddle to a splatter. It was all over the walls. It covered her arms up to her elbows. It was on her face. Emmerich lay completely still, his breathing long since ceased. His life, his memories, his thoughts and feelings, his entire consciousness was sitting there in front of her. His brain. Some of it was stuck to the cross. She killed him.

The thought struck her. It truly struck her, straight down to her core. She killed him. She murdered Emmerich, with her own two hands. After everything he’d put her through, she’d finally beaten him. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. She won.

She laughed. It was a silent, hiccupy thing as the air struggled to make any noise through her torn vocal chords. She laughed until tears ran down her face. She laughed until she couldn’t breathe. She dropped the cross and inspected her bloodsoaked hands. She was a murderer. Oh, wait. She wasn’t laughing. She was crying. It was hard to tell. It still felt like she was watching it all unfold through a screen.

Then, all of a sudden, the glass shattered. All it took was for Sam to be concerned for her, and the entire world suddenly regained focus, sharpened to a clear point. She needed to move. She’d killed Emmerich. Regardless of what his plans for her were, if she got caught again she would be given the worst possible punishment. She stood up. What did she need to do? What steps did she need to take? Her cuffs jangled as she moved. She’d gotten so used to the sound that she’d almost forgotten about them. Alright, then. Step one.

She crouched back down and started rifling through Emmerich’s pockets, trying not to look at the mess she’d made of his skull. She felt oddly numb about it, which was a little worrying. Oh well, she could worry about her messed up emotional state later, because she’d just found the keys.

With shaking hands, she unlocked her handcuffs. It took a few goes, mainly because she kept accidentally dropping the keys, but she got them off. Her shoulders ached as she finally regained her full range of movement after so long stuck in one position. She was finally able to rub her raw wrists and gain some relief. Alright, step one done, onto step two: prepare herself. 

She rifled through the drawers of the desk, looking for anything useful. It took a few minutes, but bingo; she found a hair tie. The last thing she wanted was for her escape to be hindered by someone grabbing her hair again. She quickly tied it up into a bun, with a little difficulty. It had been many years since the last time she’d had to do it, or even had enough hair to in the first place, so it took a bit to remember the skill.

With that out of the way, all she needed was a weapon, and she had just the thing in mind. She turned back to the wall, reaching up to the rack of swords. She pulled one off of the rack and inspected it. A beautiful, gleaming, silver blade. It made her heart race. But, she couldn’t get her hopes up just yet. It needed a test. It might be ornamental, after all. She looked back down to Emmerich’s hand, limply splayed across the ground. She lined up the blade and carefully sliced. His little finger came off with ease. It was the genuine article. She couldn’t help it; she broke out into a grin. She finally had a sword in her hands again. She wasn’t helpless anymore. She had power.

Finally, onto step three.

Escape.

—

The van came to a stop. Ross slid open the window to the driver's seat. 

"Alright, we're here."

Pedro stood up and observed his packmates as they did the same. Leif's heart was pounding, but she was keeping a straight face. Sam was calm. She seemed to be communicating with Roxy, but her expression was one of confusion.

"So, this is it, then? We're going in?" Leif asked, hoisting the bag of first-aid supplies over her shoulder.

"Yep," Pedro replied. "Are you ready for this?"

Leif took a shaky breath and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Hey, both of you, c'mere," he beckoned. The two girls came over and he pulled them both into a hug. He took a deep breath, memorising their scents, knowing it might be the last time he’d get the chance to do so. “Whatever happens in there, I want you two to know-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up,” Leif said, pulling away. “You can’t just go saying stuff like that right before we’re about to go on a dangerous mission! That’s like, a major death flag, dude! Save your emotional speeches for when we get out, Roxy in tow.” She grinned at him confidently, despite the fear he could hear pounding in her chest.

Pedro chuckled and shook his head. “I like your optimism.”

“Of course! With your brains, Sam’s brawn, and my incredible wit and stunning good looks, there’s no way this can go wrong!  We’ll have Roxy out in no time!” She punched her palm triumphantly. Pedro couldn’t help but smile at her antics.

“Speaking of, how is she, Sam? What’s the situation?” Pedro asked.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “I’m… really not sure. There’s… there’s a lot going on. A few seconds ago it was like a whirlwind of feelings; elation, sadness, horror, amusement, but now it’s all just cleared up. Now, it’s like she’s perfectly fine, if a little scared, but that’s normal. I… I have no idea what that might’ve been, but it can’t have been anything good. We shouldn’t waste anymore time.”

“Agreed, let’s move. Follow my lead and try to act cool. We don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. When I give the signal, we drop the cover and go in for the kill, got it?”

“What’s the signal?” Leif asked.

“You’ll feel it through the pack-bonds. It’s mostly for Sam, anyway. If you feel it, you should probably take cover somewhere.”

Leif broke out into a nervous smile. “R-right.”

With that, they stepped out of the van and walked down the street towards the outpost, looking every part the intimidating secret agents they were dressed as. The door opened with a chime and the soldier on guard looked up, his face paling considerably when he processed what he saw. He shot up from his slouched position, instantly transforming from unsuspecting employee to hardened soldier as his posture corrected itself. Pedro internally winced at the sound of his vertebrae cracking from the speed at which he’d moved.

“Laudate lucem solis, soldier. I assume you know who we are?” Pedro asked, putting on his most authoritative voice.

The soldier swallowed thickly. “Y-yes, sir. A-a-are you here for an inspection?”

“Of a sort. We need to see Harrison.”

The soldier nodded. “Of course, sir.” He reached down and pressed a button on the desk. “Uh, sir? Sorry for interrupting, but there are inspectors here to see you.”

After a few seconds, a muffled voice spoke back in reply. “Send them through.”

The soldier nodded. “Alright, sirs, just head through the door back there. His office is on the first floor down.”

Pedro nodded back and followed his directions, walking through into the stairwell and making his way down, the two girls following in step behind him. 

Leif sent him a silent message. Are we going straight down to floor two for Roxy?

No. Harrison knows we’re coming and he’ll raise the alarm if we don’t show. Don’t worry, I have a plan, Pedro replied.

He did indeed have a plan. It certainly wasn’t foolproof, by any means, but if it was successful, it would mean a completely bloodless rescue. They could get Roxy and go without any of the hunters even realising they’d been played. Sure, it wouldn’t provide the satisfaction of taking bloody revenge against her torturers, but that wasn’t as important as keeping everyone alive. Honestly, knowing his luck, it would probably break out into a bloodbath regardless, so what did it matter, anyway?

They made it to the first floor and he followed the path he’d memorised on the map to Harrison’s office. The guards gave them a wide berth as they passed. Pedro suppressed his grin at their apparent fear of them. It made sense; according to Brooke, inspectors were near the very top of the hunter’s power structure, reporting only to Father Superior himself, whoever that big bad bastard was. According to Council records, no one going by such a title existed in the hunter’s organisation until the late 90s. Before that, they acted as a mercenary group, following the will of whichever rich asshole was willing to throw the most money at them. While most of their general activity has remained the same since the appointment of this ‘Father Superior’ person, there has been a clear increase in the efficiency of their organisation, not to mention this sudden ‘plan’ that they seem to be cooking up. Pedro clenched his fist. This elusive plan of theirs was really annoying him. He felt like he was this close to figuring it out. Oh well, not the time to think about it.

They reached Harrison’s office and Pedro opened the door without knocking. The man at the desk stood up at their entrance and walked over to greet them. He looked a lot like Brooke. Pedro forced down his emotions at finally meeting one of Roxy’s torturers, face to face. If all went well, maybe he could rip an arm or two off later.

“Ah, inspectors!” Harrison said, holding his hand out for Pedro to shake. He didn’t accept it. The man awkwardly let it hang there for a few seconds before giving up and withdrawing it. He cleared his throat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’re here to requisition your prisoner. Father Superior wants her at HQ for safekeeping,” Pedro replied, terse and straight to the point.

Harrison spent a few seconds just blinking. “I, ah… I heard nothing of this. You don’t mean the Kindley girl, do you?”

“Consider this your notice, then. Give her to us.”

“I- b-but… With all due respect, sir, that doesn’t make any sense! The direwolf is here, in Dewsbury, and the express purpose of keeping that girl here was to bait the animal into giving herself up. If we give up the prisoner, we have no leverage!”

Pedro glared. “Are you questioning Father Superior’s will?”

Harrison paled considerably. “N-no! I just-!”

The door suddenly slammed open and a guard burst in. “Sir! Apologies for the interruption, but the prisoner has escaped! She’s already killed three people, including Emmerich!”

Pedro had to force himself not to break out into a huge grin. Roxy may not have been a werewolf, but she sure as hell had the spirit of one. You can’t cage a wolf and expect not to be bitten. Still though, as proud as he was of his packmate, this could be seriously bad news if they didn’t get to her quick enough.

Harrison’s face contorted with rage and he slammed his fist down on his desk. “FUCK!” He took a second to breathe and calm himself before continuing. “Do you know her location?”

“She’s definitely still on the second floor somewhere. There’s already a barricade set up in the stairwell, so she’s not getting past that, even if she has a weapon.”

Harrison nodded. “Alright. I want her found alive. Without Emmerich to train her, there’s no reason not to cripple her to stop this from happening again, so break her arms and legs. Cut out her other eye as well, if you deem it necessary. Head to the surveillance room and get them to broadcast that across the outpost.”

Pedro’s heart flew up into his throat. He had to stop that transmission from going out at all costs. The guard saluted and ran off, shutting the door behind him. There was no time to waste. Pedro let his wolf finally tear its way free and his fist collided with Harrison’s jaw before the man could even turn back to him. He limply crumpled to the ground and Pedro gave him a couple more kicks for good measure.

He pulled a pair of handcuffs that he’d brought just in case out of his pocket as Sam let her anger out on Harrison’s unconscious body as well, her growl echoing around the room. He was proud of her for keeping it in until the guard left. He definitely heard a few ribs crack, if not outright snap, from her onslaught. There were few things in the world more satisfying than that sound.

Without wasting any more time, he cuffed Harrison’s wrists behind his back and gagged him with his own tie before pulling all of the junk out of a cabinet at the back of the room and stuffing his unconscious body into it. He turned back around to make sure his packmates were alright. Sam was still baring her fangs and growling while Leif seemed to still be processing the last few seconds. He snapped his fingers, getting their attention.

“Both of you, follow closely. Things are about to get ugly.”

Without waiting for them to respond, Pedro sprinted out the door and down the hall, keeping an ear out for his packmates behind him to ensure he didn’t outpace them, mainly for Leif’s sake. As predicted, no guard would dare get in the way of what they thought was an inspector, so they had no trouble getting to the surveillance room as fast as possible.

Pedro rounded a corner and watched as the guard with the message ran into the surveillance room. Their only option to stop that message from going out was to incapacitate everyone in the room. He would rather do it without firing a shot, as that would bring every guard on the floor running towards them anyway, so he sent Sam a message to prepare herself. It looked like he would have to get his claws dirty too.

He barged into the room and didn’t hesitate to charge right for the messenger, who was currently relaying the instructions to the surveillance team. He could already hear the sounds of Sam tearing things up behind him as his claws sunk into the man’s throat, cutting off his message half-way through and sending blood spurting out of his mouth in its place. He pulled his hand back and immediately spun into a kick that lashed across the jaw of the man who’d been receiving the message, causing his head to jerk to the side so hard that his neck instantly snapped. Pedro turned and took a quick mental snapshot of the situation as the two bodies crumpled to the floor.

Sam had already taken out two of the guards in the room and was currently moving onto her third, who had finally registered the situation and was reaching for a weapon. Other than him, there was still one other guard in the room; a rather large man who was currently closing in on Pedro, sword in hand. Leif was pressed up against a far wall, her pistol at the ready in case any of the guards made the inadvisable decision to go for her.

Pedro dodged sideways to avoid an overhead swing, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sam kicked her guard so hard in the chest that he flew across the room and slammed into the opposite wall, leaving a noticeable red stain where his head made contact. He took advantage of his opponent’s opening and grabbed his wrist, twisting and ducking under it to simultaneously disarm and throw him to the ground. With the man restrained by the angle of his arm, it was a cinch to finish him off by stomping on his head.

Alright, they’d captured the surveillance room. What could he do from here? He already knew that he needed to destroy all of their recording software, but having the room all to himself with no one outside any the wiser was a unique position to be in, and he wanted to take advantage of it. Sam and Leif joined him at the main computer as he looked around for the intercom controls. The many flickering monitors in front of him were displaying security footage from various parts of the building. None of them contained Roxy, but he could make out one or two dead guards lying in the halls of the second floor. Her handiwork, he presumed.

“What are we doing? We need to get to the second floor to save Roxy!” Sam exclaimed. There was a little bit of blood splattered across her face.

“Don’t worry, chica, I’m going to buy her some time, but I’ll be giving us away in the process. Are you guys ready?”

Sam barely even took a second to think before she nodded her agreement. Her trust in him was absolute. He looked to Leif and she shot him a thumbs-up. “I’ll watch the door,” she said.

Pedro nodded and turned back to the controls. He found the intercom button and held it down before leaning into the microphone, broadcasting his voice across the outpost.

“Roxy, if you’re hearing this, find somewhere to hide. Don’t worry about escaping on your own, we’ll come find you. Keep hold of a weapon and don’t come out until you hear us-”

The door behind them burst open and a single gunshot rang out. He heard Leif yelp as he turned, abandoning the intercom and already drawing his own firearm. Roxy would have gotten the idea. He fired two shots at the guard who’d busted in, hitting him in the chest and neck, before quickly turning and firing two more shots at the rack of harddrives he’d noticed earlier, destroying any potential recorded evidence of their incursion. Sam sped across the room and slammed the door shut again, making sure the guard was dead. 

The sound of panicked whimpering caught his attention. Leif had collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of the side of her head through her fingers. Her heart was pounding erratically. Fear briefly took hold of him, squeezing his chest like a vice as he rushed over and knelt down next to her, yelling for Sam to keep the door shut. Leif shakily grabbed his arm with her free hand. 

“P-P-Pedro, I-I think I’ve been sh-shot,” she stammered. The sheer fear in her voice caused his insides to clench. He forced himself to stay calm. It was clearly a head injury, but considering that she was still alive, it couldn’t have been anything more than a graze.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, let me see,” he said in a calming voice. She swallowed and nodded, slowly removing her hand from the injury. It looked like the top of her right ear had been shot clean off. A nasty injury, for sure, but not-at-all life threatening, unless it got infected. “It’s okay, it’s just your ear. You’re not in any danger.”

“I-is it bad?”

Pedro smothered his wince. “You don’t need to worry about it, okay?” he replied, quickly pulling a roll of bandages out of the first-aid kit and wrapping it around Leif’s head to apply pressure. It would require extensive cosmetic surgery if she ever wanted it to look like a normal ear again, but she didn’t need to know that right now. “We need to keep moving. Can you stand?”

At Leif’s hesitant nod he stood up, offering his hand. She took it and allowed him to lift her to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but it was probably more the shock than anything, and should hopefully wear off once they got back into the swing of things. Speaking of, he quickly glanced at the surveillance screens, looking for the hallway outside the room. Sure enough, there were about half a dozen soldiers there, armed and waiting for them to come out. They were surrounded.

Pedro returned to Sam, who was still dutifully bracing her shoulder against the door, even as she nervously glanced at Leif behind him. “You alright, Leif?”

“Y-yeah, I think so.”

“A bunch of guys are waiting for us to come out. What should we do?” She asked Pedro. He grinned and pulled something out of the inside pocket of his blazer, a special little item he’d asked Duncan to bring just for this specific situation. He couldn’t see Sam’s eyes behind her sunglasses, but the way her eyebrows rose told him that they were sparkling. A flash grenade.

“You ready to tear shit up, chica?”

A wide grin spread across Sam’s face, all teeth and sharp canines jutting out as her wolf struggled to contain its excitement. “For Roxy? Always.”

—

Roxy was panting, stumbling as she ran from corridor to corridor, taking turns to try and dodge guards before they spotted her as she made her way towards where she remembered the stairwell to be. The silver blade of her sword was stained red from the few she’d already had to fight off. Her head was pounding, her ears ringing, her stomach churning with violent nausea. She was pretty sure she had a concussion. That last guard had thumped her in the side of the head with the hilt of his sword and she’d collapsed to the ground, only winning the fight because she’d managed to keep her grip on her sword and used it to cut off his foot while she was down there. She was no pushover when it came to sword-fighting, but her lack of depth perception combined with her numerous injuries was putting her at a serious disadvantage. She was just grateful that she’d only caught them one at a time so far. If she had to fight two or more at once, she would definitely lose.

Her knees buckled and she hit the ground, lurching over and emptying the pitiful contents of her stomach with no warning. It was entirely bile, and wholly unpleasant, the clenching of her abs pulling on her various stitches and making her burns sing out in agony. She coughed and sputtered, spitting out the acid in her mouth. Ugh, bad bad bad. She really didn’t have the freedom to stop for a little vomit break right now. She preferred her bones to be structurally sound, thank you very much, and if she was caught, she was fairly certain she would no longer get to enjoy that luxury.

It was as she was gingerly picking herself up that it happened. The intercom crackled to life and the voice of Jesus Christ himself came out of the speakers, filling her heart with so much raw hope that she felt like bursting into tears of relief. Obviously, it wasn’t actually old JC, King of the Jews and supposed saviour of humanity speaking through the outpost intercom, but with the sheer emotion that his voice conjured up within her, it might as well have been a religious experience all the same. It was Pedro. Pedro and his stupid rumbly deep voice, coloured by a slight accent. It was hope.

“Roxy, if you’re hearing this, find somewhere to hide. Don’t worry about escaping on your own, we’ll come find you. Keep hold of a weapon and don’t come out until you hear us-”

The transmission was cut off with the sound of a gunshot. Her gut twisted into knots. She really hoped that gunshot wasn’t aimed at anyone she cared about. She wondered who else was with him. Sam would be, obviously, and perhaps even Leif. Oh god. They were putting themselves in danger because of her. The hunters kidnapped her to lure in Sam, and now Sam had walked right onto their home turf. 

Oh god oh god oh god. Please be safe, you big blonde idiot. I love you.

She zoned back into the physical world as a figure in black turned the corner in front of her, contrasting against the harsh white of the hallways. He’d definitely already seen her, from the way he was cautiously sauntering forward, sword in hand and thin-lipped grin on full display. His grey eyes pierced through her. It was her old nightmare, the stalker.

“Didn’t learn your lesson last time, did you? I’ll be happy to teach you again, especially with Emmerich out of the picture,” he taunted in that tinny drawl, readying his sword and settling into a combat stance an unclear distance away from her. It was hard to tell with one eye.

 

Had her vocal chords been in working order, she would have called him a cunt, but as it was, she simply stepped into her own stance, accepting his challenge. Another one-on-one. She could take him. She had to be able to take him, because running wasn’t an option anymore. She would win this. 

They both circled each other slowly, keeping an eye out for any little twitch that might indicate an incoming attack. Roxy thought that she might be able to just keep him on guard until her rescue team arrived, but she had no such luck. He moved in with a jab that seemed like it was going straight for the kill. 

Roxy had no luxury to chance blocking a strike like that, what with her current inability to gauge distance. She ducked to the left, making sure that she kept the stalker well within her limited field of vision, and moved in to counterstrike. She swung upwards, aiming to disable his hand before moving in for the kill, but he expertly spun out of the way, using his momentum to follow through with a horizontal slice aimed directly at her cranium.

There was no time to manoeuvre her sword to block it, but even she could see that she wouldn’t be able to dodge out of the way in time, either. She just had to chance it. She threw herself backwards as hard as she could, but it wasn’t quite enough. The tip of his blade shaved across her face, from her left cheekbone across the bridge of her nose, giving the cut that Emmerich had made on the first day a brand new friend.

Blinding pain blossomed across her face as her momentum brought her stumbling backwards. There was blood in her nose and her mouth and running down her face and neck and body and for a split second her brain completely froze up, already supplying an apology to give to Emmerich for whatever transgression she’d made that had caused him to hurt her like this. The sight of the stalker still moving in for the attack brought her back to the present and her fighting instincts rose back to the surface. Survive. Kill. Her pack was coming.

His sword was coming in from her right side now. She ducked under it and charged forward with a diagonal rising cut to his open abdomen. It made shallow contact, slicing through his shirt and a decent way into his flesh. Not good enough. He grunted in pain and tried to make some distance, but she stayed on the attack, following up with a downward arc. Her desperation was making her reckless. 

The stalker recovered and effortlessly parried her blade away, knocking it to the side before capturing it in a skillful disarming manoeuvre. She saw exactly what was happening, but that didn’t mean she was able to prevent it. He flicked his wrist and her sword flew out of her hand, clattering to the ground. The little spark of hope she’d allowed for herself died in her chest. This was it. She was dead. His sword was already coming back. She was helplessly trapped within its arc, still too shocked from being disarmed to think about dodging away.

At that moment, it was like time came to a crawling stop. It couldn’t have taken any longer than a fraction of a second, but Roxy felt it happening, moment by moment, as though it was some sort of transformation scene in a magical girl show. A fire like nothing she’d ever felt before lit up in her chest, something that lay long dormant in the back of her brain suddenly waking up and taking over her body. Her mark fizzled and sparked with electricity, coursing through her body and lighting up every single nerve. The world around her cracked into sharp focus, too sharp. She could hear the blood rushing through her veins, smell the stalker’s unpleasant sweat and the hint of coffee on his breath. It was like the entire universe was spreading itself open around her, revealing its secrets down to each individual molecule. She felt alive. 

She watched it happen in slow motion. She knew she was too far inside his arc to dodge backwards, so instead, she stepped into him. Well, more like threw herself into him. It was too fast for him to react. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her teeth closed around his ear, tearing through the cartilage with ease. She’d been aiming for his neck, but oh well. Hot blood sprayed into her mouth and her taste buds lit up, even as her rational mind filled with disgust in the background. Rationality had no place in survival.

Her weight sent him careening backwards and she deftly rolled off of him as he hit the floor, time speeding up once again. She didn’t pause for a moment, lurching forwards and charging for her sword, picking it back up off the ground and turning around, already swinging. He’d been trying to pick himself up. His head was in the best possible position for her, and the worst possible position for him.

The sharp blade of her sword lodged itself deep into his skull and his body went completely limp, tugging the weapon from her hands once again. It was okay, though. The fight was over. She’d won. She’d survived. She’d killed, once again. That brought her tally up to four. She had to keep count of her crimes.

With a monumental amount of disgust, she realised that there was still an ear in her mouth. She immediately spat it out onto the ground. Her mouth tasted like blood and vomit. What she wouldn’t give to find a tap around here somewhere. Her body was buzzing with adrenaline and something else, something new and unfamiliar. She quickly glanced at her shaking hands and, though it might have been a trick of the light, she thought she might have seen a thin layer of black hair that definitely wasn’t usually there. What was happening to her? The world around her was still unnaturally sharp, though it appeared to be waning slightly. One thing was for sure; she felt a lot stronger than she had a couple minutes ago, even with her heavily bleeding face.

Shit, right, she should probably do something about that, not to mention find a place to hide and wait for Pedro and the rest. She grabbed the handle of her sword from the puddle of blood on the ground and tried to tug it out of the stalker’s head, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, but still, nothing. Stupid hunter with his stupid thick skull stealing her sword. Fucking prick.

She heard a noise and looked up, only for her heart to drop right out of her chest. A group of at least five hunters was heading right for her, fire burning in their expressions. She had no choice but to abandon her weapon, turning and sprinting down the hallway as fast as her tired legs could take her. Panic seeped through her skin. Her hair was falling out of its bun. She was so fucked. 

She turned a corner and picked a random room to throw herself into, praying to every single god from every single religion that there wasn’t anyone inside it. Thankfully, her prayers were answered. It looked like a typical break room, with a kitchenette and a few tables scattered around the place. She locked the door and threw a table down in front of it for good measure, running to the drawers to look for any sort of weapon she could use. The best she found was a serrated steak knife. Fuck it, better than nothing. She could hear the hunters banging on the door. They were gonna get in. They were gonna get her. 

The way she saw it, she had two options. One; she could surrender peacefully and hope beyond hope that they gave her some semblance of mercy for it, because there was no way she was winning the fight that was about to break through that door, or two; she could give up on her hopes of escaping and end her own suffering before anyone else could hurt her, because they would hurt her. She looked down at the knife in her shaking, bloody hands. She tested her finger on it. It was more than sharp enough. She swallowed, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Was this really how it was going to end, after everything she’d survived?

What other choice did she have? They would well and truly break her if she gave herself up. Even if she got out after that, would there be anything left? She couldn’t wait for Pedro, no matter how close he was. If he didn’t get there in time, it would all be over anyway. That door was looking less and less structurally stable by the second. 

She carefully pressed the knife up against her throat. The cold metal sent goosebumps across her skin. This was it. The grand total sum of her entire life. Roxanne Kindley: a survivor, until she wasn’t. Her parents would never see her again. Her friends would never see her again. Sam would never see her again. She almost faltered at that thought, but she couldn’t, even as tears began falling down her cheeks. The pounding on the door made sure of that. The lock was rattling weakly. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now.

She took a few quick, deep breaths before tensing up and preparing herself, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t want to have to see this, see the blood that was about to pour out of her. Her hands tightened around the knife. The sound of her heart echoed through her body. She listened to its song one last time.

I’m so, so sorry, Sam. I love you so much. Don’t forget me.

Multiple muffled gunshots cracked off outside the door and Roxy paused at the last possible second. The pounding on the door had stopped. There was shouting, the sound of fighting. Whoever was outside had completely forgotten about her. The knife dropped to the ground from her shaking hands and she suddenly remembered how to breathe again. Holy shit. Holy shit. She needed to hide.

There were cabinets under the bench of the kitchenette. She opened one and threw out all of the dinnerware inside it, forcing herself in and shutting the door behind her. It was suddenly pitch black, the sound of her panting breaths and rapid heartbeats echoing off of the wood all around her. It was so cramped she could barely even fit, but she had no choice. Thank god she wasn’t claustrophobic. 

It had gone quiet outside. The fighting had stopped. Her heart was lodged firmly in her throat. She had given up her one chance to stop the pain. She was putting all of her faith in her pack. Either they saved her, or the hunters broke her.

There was a loud bang as the door was suddenly smashed open and the only thing that stopped Roxy from crying out was her lack of ability to make any noise. Someone was coming in. Multiple people, from the sounds of it. She covered her mouth to stifle her breathing, willing her heart to beat quieter, lest it give her away. She couldn’t get caught. Not now. Not after how far she’d come.

“Roxy? Are you here?”

Roxy froze, a sob caught in her throat. No, it couldn’t be real. It was too good to be true. That couldn’t be Sam’s voice.

“It’s us, Roxy. You can come out.”

Now it was Leif. She was going insane. She was losing her mind. It was a hallucination, a trick. If she opened that cupboard door, she would be taken again. She would be hurt. No, no, no. She couldn’t risk it.

“It’s okay, kid. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

Pedro. Her tears started again. She’d heard him on the intercom earlier, and now he was here, just outside her little hiding place. But what if the broadcast was just a hallucination as well? She couldn’t trust it. She couldn’t.

“We’re here, Roxy. You don’t have to be scared. You’re safe now.”

Sam. Sam. Sam. Her voice came right from the other side of the cupboard door. She knew where Roxy was. She was being flooded with comfort from her mark. It couldn’t be true, but… But what if it was?

What if Sam was really there?

“I’m opening the door, okay?”

Roxy wanted to protest, but the hope that had lit up in her chest was burning like a bonfire, and it was impossible to resist. The door cracked open and light spilled in, temporarily blinding her. Strong but gentle hands carefully pulled her out of the cupboard and into a warm, unbelievably soft embrace. Pine filled her nose. Her arms closed around her saviour, even as her mind was still questioning if any of this was even real. Her eyes slowly closed as she let herself accept that yes, maybe it was. There was a hand buried in her hair, comforting in a way that only Sam ever was.

For the first time in a long, long time, Roxy felt safe.

Sam was here. Really here.

Roxy squeezed her tighter, holding onto her like she would disappear into thin air should she not hold on hard enough, because she just might. Sam gently stroked the back of her head and she started sobbing.

“Hey, Rox. Sorry I took so long.”

—

“I’m opening the door, okay?”

Sam could hear Roxy’s racing heartbeat behind the cupboard door, her quick, rapid breaths that she seemed to be trying to stifle. She was right there, right behind the door. All she had to do was reach out and open it. So that’s exactly what she did. And there she was. Roxy, giving off such a strong scent of fear that it was almost suffocating.

There wasn’t an inch of skin that was left unmarked, whether by a bruise or something a little more permanent. It was bandages and stitches and burns every little bit of pain that Sam had felt through her mark over the past eleven days coming to life. Her left hand was covering her mouth. Sure enough, her little finger was missing. So were her fingernails. She was squinting her eye, adjusting to the light. The other one was still covered by a patch, like she’d seen in the photos she was sent. The older cut that stretched down her face was now bisected by a new one, fresh and seeming like it only just stopped bleeding, surely no more than a few minutes old. Her poor little nose was clearly broken, and no one had bothered to set it properly. There was so much anger that wanted to burn inside of her, but all of it was stifled by the sheer, overwhelming relief of Roxy, being there, right in front of her, close enough that she could reach out and pull her into a hug. So she did.

She took Roxy’s arms and gently guided her out of the cupboard, pulling her into an embrace, doing her best to be careful with her battered body. She was finally there, back in her arms where she belonged. She felt so small.  It took a few seconds, but Roxy reciprocated it, wrapping her arms around Sam’s torso and gripping the back of her blazer tightly. The emotions coming through her mark seemed cautious and confused, but she seemed to be slowly realising what was happening, that Sam was here, and she was never letting go of her again. She was so glad she made it in time. She’d spied the knife lying out of place on the floor and she remembered the incredibly strong feelings of fear and guilt coming through her mark a few seconds before they’d engaged with the guards outside the door. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what it meant. But she’d made it in time. She tried not to entertain the idea of what might have happened had she been just a few seconds later.

She buried her hand in Roxy’s hair and breathed her in, finally relishing in the sweet, strawberry-lilac scent of the girl she loved again, even as it was clouded by blood and old sweat and a lot of other things that Sam didn’t want to think about. Roxy squeezed her harder in response, and Sam lightly stroked through her hair, scratching the back of her scalp. Roxy’s shoulders started to hitch up and down as though she was sobbing, but there was barely any sound aside from a few pitiful squeaks and sniffles. Her poor voice must have given out.

“Hey, Rox. Sorry I took so long.”

Roxy pulled back suddenly and stared up at her, a disbelieving expression on her face. Her eye flickered about restlessly, analysing every detail of Sam’s appearance. She reached up and touched her cheek, where Leif’s makeup was covering her scar, and Sam leaned into it. She took Sam’s sunglasses off. Honestly, she’d completely forgotten she was wearing them. At the sight of her eyes, Roxy somehow broke into a smile, bloody and weak as it was. Sam had been so scared she’d never get to see it again, but there it was, right in front of her. She began to tear up. Then Roxy lifted up on her knees, closer and closer, and Sam’s heart somersaulted as their lips finally connected. It was chaste, and Roxy’s lips were chapped and tasted like blood, but it was still the most passionate kiss they’d ever shared. Roxy’s love and relief and warmth was swimming through her and combining with her own like two galaxies colliding in her chest, giving birth to trillions upon trillions of tiny stars, sparkling throughout her body. They were finally together again.

They finally pulled apart and rested their foreheads together. Roxy tried to speak, but it was barely more than the hushed whisper of air rushing through her throat. Their pack-bonds spelled out her intention clearly enough, though.

“I missed you, Sam.”

Sam smiled. “I missed you too, Rox. More than anything in the universe.”

Roxy smiled back and sat back on her heels. A curious expression overtook her face. “Why is your hair brown?”

Oh yeah. Sam had almost forgotten about that. She chuckled. “It was the only way we could sneak in. The hunters know my face, so I had to disguise myself. What about you?” she asked, reaching out and brushing the anomalous patch of Roxy’s bangs to the side. “Why is your’s white?” 

Roxy’s face crumpled a little. Maybe that was a bad thing to ask. “I’m not really sure. It was just like that when I woke up a few days ago.”

“I’ve read about something like that,” Pedro supplied from somewhere behind Sam. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. “It’s called ‘Marie Antoinette Syndrome’ or something, where your hair suddenly turns white during stressful or traumatic experiences.”

It appeared that she wasn’t the only one to forget her packmates’ presence, as Roxy perked up when she heard Pedro’s voice. “Pedro!”

Sam could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, kid. Good job on holding out until we got here.”

Leif cleared her throat. “Hi. I’m here too.”

Roxy’s smile was like that of a child in a candy shop, at least until she got a better look at Leif and her smile dropped into a frown of frantic concern. She threw herself up out of Sam’s lap and ran over to her friend. Sam turned and got up to observe the interaction.

“Leif! You’re bleeding!” Roxy silently cried, her meaning and emotion still being translated directly into Sam’s head despite the lack of an audible voice. She carefully grabbed Leif’s face and gently touched the side of her head, where blood was leaking through her bandages. Leif was very resolutely looking at Roxy’s face and nowhere else, her hands frozen at her sides even as Roxy abandoned Leif’s head to pull her into a hug.

“Me? You should be worried more for yourself, dude! Are you okay?!” 

“N-not… not really. I can’t really feel my face, a-and I’m a little dizzy.” Roxy replied honestly as she pulled back. Sam unbuttoned her blazer and pulled it off, ignoring the fear that statement instilled in her and offering it to Roxy. She took it, though there was confusion on her face.

“What’s this for?”

Sam bit her lip awkwardly and vaguely indicated to Roxy’s… everything. She looked down and realised what Sam was referring to, in that the only things that she was ‘wearing’ were the few scattered bandages around her body. Roxy immediately threw on the blazer and buttoned it up, embarrassment pouring through the mark in waves. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but due to how much taller Sam was, it covered up more than enough to restore a decent chunk of her modesty. “Th-thanks… I’d… I’d forgotten about that.”

Pedro took this opportunity to finally move in for his own hug. Roxy melted into him and Sam saw the hint of a smile on his features. She smiled, too. The pack was finally all back together.

Roxy pulled back. “Wait, when did you become part of the pack?” she asked Pedro.

He shrugged. “Not sure exactly. It just happened some time over the past week. Anyway, we should keep moving. There’s no telling when reinforcements will show up.”

The spike in Roxy’s fear was hard to miss, even to those who couldn’t feel her emotions. It never really went away, even during the happiness of their reunion. Sam pulled the unused pistol out of her holster and offered it to Roxy. “Here, take this. The mag’s full.”

She took it gratefully, testing its weight in her hands. The fear lessened somewhat now that she had a weapon of her own. “Thanks.”

Pedro opened the door slightly and peeked out. “Alright, the coast is clear. Sam, stay close to Roxy and protect her at all costs. I’ll handle the fighting. Roxy, if you can, give me some cover fire. Leif, you’re still on medical.”

Everyone nodded their agreement and then they were moving. Pedro was at the front of the group, checking the corners and signalling when it was safe to keep moving. Sam was in the middle, clutching Roxy’s left hand tightly and trying to ignore the gap made by her missing finger. Leif was at the back, keeping an eye on their rear. There were a few occasions where guards tried to stop them, but none of them were quicker to the draw than Pedro was, especially with Roxy covering him when there was more than one. She quickly ran out of ammo and abandoned the gun as they ran.

It was when the exit to the stairwell was just in sight that disaster struck. It was a perfect amalgamation of bad luck; a sequence of seemingly innocuous events that, on their own, wouldn’t have posed a problem for them at all, but when occurring all at once, created the perfect window for their bad situation to become so much worse. Roxy had just stumbled, so Sam was distracted trying to keep her steady. Pedro was reloading. A hunter rounded the corner in front of them, already aiming down the sights right at her, ready to take the shot. Sam’s life flashed before her eyes. Leif was the only one out of them that could fight back. Had she realised the situation? Was she going to react in time?

A gunshot went off just behind her and a hole appeared in the perfect centre of the hunter’s forehead. She had less than a fraction of a second to feel relief as the hunter collapsed, still tightly gripping his gun. Too tightly, it seemed, because it went off as he fell. 

Sam heard the little rush of air out of Roxy’s throat in place of her cry, felt the sudden incredible shock through her mark, even as her own heart clenched so tightly it felt like her chest would implode. Roxy’s weight suddenly became heavy against her as she collapsed to the floor. Everyone was scrambling to drag her into a nearby room as far too much blood poured out of her thigh. It was her thigh that was hit. Her right thigh. The shape looked wrong. Her face was contorted in a silent scream. Sam’s mind was racing so fast that everything around her was muted.

Leif pulled out a roll of bandages and started desperately trying to stem the flow, wrapping it around Roxy’s leg over and over and over. It was causing her so much pain that Sam almost wanted her to stop. It seemed to be working, though. The blood that leaked through was less and less with each passover. Roxy was hyperventilating. Sam needed to help. She gently cradled her head and blocked her view of the situation.

“S-S-Sam… I-i-it hurts, it fucking hurts so bad!” she sobbed.

“I know, I know,” Sam consoled, stroking her hair. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? Keep looking at me. You’re gonna be okay.”

“That’ll hold for now, but we need to get her to a hospital soon. I can’t tell if the bullet hit an artery or not,” Pedro called out.

“Alright,” Sam replied. She turned back to Roxy. “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay? It’s probably gonna hurt, but try to hold on for me. Just focus on your breathing. I love you.”

Roxy scrunched her eyes and frantically nodded, bracing herself. She was so fucking brave. Sam had never felt more in love. She scooped her up, trying not to jostle her leg too much, but that was impossible. The way it was moving suggested that her femur was broken. The pain through her mark was so overwhelming, part of her wished Roxy would just black out.

The next few minutes were a frantic blur of running, Roxy holding onto her for dear life. They ran back out to the hallway and into the stairwell, stepping over the bodies of the hunters that had once served as a barricade to stop Roxy’s escape. They ran up the stairs three at a time until they reached the top floor, bursting out into the pawnshop and ignoring the hunter at the till, who somehow hadn’t realised anything was wrong downstairs. They ran out onto the street and up to the van, throwing open the door and jumping inside, Ross getting the picture and tearing off into the street before anyone could even tell him to. He already knew that their destination was the hospital. That had been established a long time ago.

Sam laid Roxy down on a seat and sat down next to her, laying her head in her lap. She was already a few shades paler, the bags under her eyes sticking out even more as she deliriously looked around. “Wh-where… a-am I?”

“We’re taking you to the hospital, okay? Y-you’ll be alright, sweetie, just breathe.”

Roxy stared up at her curiously. “Y-you’re p-p-pretty…”

Sam couldn’t stop the tears if she tried. “S-says you. You’re so beautiful, Roxy.”

Roxy smiled weakly, her words slurring. “I… l-l-love you.”

Sam leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, whispering so that only Roxy could hear. Her tears dripped down onto Roxy’s cheeks. “I love you too.” She pressed a gentle kiss against her lips.

Roxy’s eyelids fluttered shut and for a moment Sam’s heart stopped in its tracks as fear took over, but then she realised that she could still hear Roxy’s heartbeat, as erratic as it was. She just passed out. She would be fine. She would be fine.

“S-Sam, she… sh-she isn’t…?” Leif asked, terror clear in her shaking voice.

“No, her heart’s still beating. She’s just asleep.”

“Oh, thank fucking christ…” Leif breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I hate to interrupt, but I need you guys to hand over all of your weapons and equipment before we get to the hospital. If you have anything incriminating like that on you, our already flimsy cover story goes out the window,” Pedro said.

“What about all the blood on us? A-and the bodies at the outpost?” Sam asked.

“There’s nothing we can do about the blood, but the hunters will have already started clearing up the bodies. The police raid shouldn’t take more than a few hours to set up, so the bodies should be gone by then. Just say the blood is Roxy’s, I doubt anyone will question it, and if they do, I’ll pull some strings and cover it up. We’ll be okay. The Council will have our back.”

Sam shakily nodded, hoping beyond hope that he was right, and began returning all of her equipment, unbuttoning her shirt so she could get her bulletproof vest off. It was comforting to have, even if it didn’t end up taking any hits for them.

They pulled up outside the hospital a few minutes later and Pedro sent them off. Sam scooped Roxy back up and threw the van door open, breaking into a run towards the ED the second she hit the pavement. Leif was right behind her. She almost ended up smashing straight into the automatic door, startling everyone inside as she entered. For a split second, everything around them was frozen as the doctors and nurses processed what had just come barrelling into their hospital. The missing girl from the news and two other teenagers, both covered in blood.

“I need a doctor! She’s been shot!” Sam cried. 

All at once, things began moving again. A doctor ran up to her, asking questions faster than she could process. A bed was being wheeled out. Nurses carefully pried Roxy from her arms to lay her out on the bed, and she did her best to resist snarling at them for daring to take her away again. She realised she should probably try to answer the questions that the doctor was barking at her.

“I-I- It’s- she-”

“She’s been shot in the right thigh. We don’t know if it hit an artery. That’s the most important thing right now, everything else would take too long to list out.” Thankfully, Leif stepped in and saved her. The doctor nodded resolutely and rushed off to help his coworkers as Roxy was wheeled away into a hallway. 

Holy shit. Holy shit.

Roxy was finally safe. She was in good hands, and nothing was going to hurt her anymore. Sam didn’t have to keep wondering if she’d ever get to see her again. She didn’t have to wonder if she’d break into the outpost only to find the corpse of the girl who’d changed her life.

Sam fell to her knees and finally let herself break down, even as nurses crowded around and tried to check her and Leif for injuries. Roxy was back. She was saved.

It was finally over.