The clang of steel on steel rang through Roxy’s ears as she sparred with Leif, sweat pouring down their faces as their swords clashed together. Leif’s skill with the blade had really improved over the past couple of months, to the point where Roxy could no longer easily disarm her within a few seconds as she had been able to previously. It filled Roxy with equal parts pride and excitement, finally having access to a sparring partner who could stand up to her. What was doubly impressive was that Leif was standing up to Roxy even when she had her wolf out, still being unable to get it to rest completely over the past few days of stress and frequent pain through the mark. 

Regardless of any physical disadvantage Leif was at, she moved like the wind, biting and furious as she sent blow after blow in Roxy’s direction, each one parried or dodged by a hair’s-breadth. Roxy met her in turn, responding to each subsequent opening in Leif’s guard with deadly precision, knowing she had enough control to stop herself should her friend not answer her attack in time. It was exhilarating, and her whole body was alight with endorphins. She could tell Sam was getting a kick out of it, too, which made the whole situation that much better, giving her mate some much needed relief from the horrors of the past few days.

Eventually, the match came to an end when Roxy parried a jab, sending Leif’s blade away from her body and leaving her open. She slipped through her guard and rammed a shoulder into her chest, sending the girl sprawling to the ground, and finished the spar with the point of her cane sword pressed up against Leif’s neck. Leif, realising her position, groaned and let her head fall back against the floor. “How do you keep doing it?”

“You leave your left side open too often. It’s easy to slip under your guard,” Roxy replied, sheathing her sword and holding out a hand that Leif gratefully grabbed onto, pulling herself up. A small round of applause from the edge of the room startled them both, and they whirled around to find that they apparently had an audience. Roxy certainly hadn’t noticed anyone come in, and judging from her shock, neither had Leif.

It wasn’t a big audience or anything, just Pedro, her dad, and Brooke, but getting snuck up on, even by her own family, was always disconcerting. Roxy realised that her eyes were still searching for someone, though. Someone was missing from the group that should’ve been there. It took her a second to realise she was searching for Clarissa, and the realisation left her feeling like Leif was the one who’d shouldered her onto the floor, instead.

She shook off the feeling. There was no time for grief, and she knew that if she allowed it to get its hooks into her, she wasn’t going to be able to get them out again. “When did you all get here?”

Pedro held up his left arm, now free from its short-lived cast. “Just a few minutes ago. Finished getting my cast taken off and just followed the sound of sword-fighting.”

“How’s your wrist?” Leif asked.

He gave it a few experimental rolls. “A little stiff, but it should be fine for tonight.” 

“Wait, tonight?” Brooke asked. “Does that mean you’ve found the outpost?”

He grunted. “We’ve rounded it down to a few buildings around one of the Lunin Sites in the city. Either we wait for them to narrow it down further, or we go and check out the buildings ourselves, one by one. Either way, the eclipse is tonight, so we don’t really have much choice other than to make our move, whether we have the location or not.”

The reminder killed any joy Roxy had derived from the intense sparring match. The eclipse was tonight. The clock was ticking down to its final hours, and the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. It was almost suffocating, knowing that if she failed tonight, that even if they survived the ensuing chaos, she would never see Sam again. But hey, no pressure, right?

“We should conserve our energy,” Roxy said. “The Council’s already narrowed it down this far in just a few days, they should be able to get us the location before it’s too late.”

Pedro nodded. “I agree. We have no idea what we’ll be facing once we’re inside, we’ve got to be ready for anything. They’ll be preparing for the fight of their lives, so we might be better off taking a more stealthy route, like we did when we broke Roxy out. Either way, we’ll figure something out.”

Leif frowned. “What about after the ritual’s gone off? That way, most of the hunters would have moved out for the fight by then, right? Then we can just sneak in and reverse it with the vaccine.”

He shook his head. “The hunters would just kill both of them the second the ritual is complete to prevent that from happening. The window of time we’d need for that to work would be too small.”

Roxy sighed, her stomach swirling with horrible anxiety. “Talking about it isn’t going to do anything but stress us out. We’re gonna save them tonight, and that’s final.” The sternness of her voice left no room for debate, and the room fell into silence. She turned to her sparring partner. “I’m gonna hit the showers. Leif, you coming?”

The other girl nodded and followed her out of the room, heading down the halls in uneasy silence. Roxy just tried to clear her mind of everything. She was already going grey at eighteen, she didn’t need even more stress to keep that ball rolling. At this point, she was pretty sure that most of her hair would lose its pigment by the time she hit her twenties. Just another thing to look forward to, if she ended up surviving the night.

They didn’t speak again until they hit the locker rooms, washing off the sweat of their duel in adjacent partitioned showers. Roxy let out a groan of relief as she stretched her tired muscles under the flow of warm water, and Leif laughed in response.

“Yeah, I feel that.”

Roxy grinned over the divider at her friend, leaning back against the cool tile wall. “You did good today. Have you been practising or something?”

Leif shrugged. “Here and there. Cla-” she paused, swallowing the name. “Well, she’d been giving me pointers. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you, though.” She shot Roxy a smile.

Roxy scoffed. “No one can hold a candle to your accuracy with a gun, so I think we’re even.”

“Well, you know what they say…” 

Roxy raised an eyebrow, glancing over the partition to see Leif’s pre-joke smirk. “What do they say?”

“...You can’t shoot straight.” 

Roxy stared back at her in silence.

“...That was bad, even for you.”

Leif winced. “Yeah, not my best, I’ll admit. Just tryna lighten the mood, y’know?”

“A futile mission if ever there was one,” Roxy muttered. “I just want all this shit to be over so we can go back to living normal lives. I wanna see my bedroom again. I miss my computer.”

Leif hummed. “I miss the woods. There’s nothing like being able to just get up and disappear into the wilderness when your family’s pissing you off.”

Roxy laughed. “Yeah, that was pretty useful when Martha was being a bitch.”

“Good riddance.”

“Yep. The Thura household is officially free of straight people.”

“What, even Mr. Slinky?”

Roxy grinned. “Oh, totally. That cat is the biggest fag you’ll ever meet.”

Leif snorted hard, apparently choking on some water in the process, if the coughing and sputtering was anything to go by. “I’m not so sure about that. I’ve met you, after all.”

Roxy blew a raspberry and reached over the divider to whack Leif over the head. Leif retaliated and it devolved into a playful slap fight, slinging water from their showers all over the room in their fervour to smack each other up-side the head. 

“Okay, okay,” Roxy eventually acquiesced, holding her hands up in surrender. “That’s enough. We need to-”

Leif interrupted her by reaching over and scoring a solid ‘thwap!’ to the side of her head. Roxy glared. 

“I’m going to come over there and choke you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Thura. Sam and Drew would be so disappointed.”

Roxy sighed. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Leif hummed in agreement. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, don’t push your luck.”

—

Sam smiled to herself as she dug through the bowl of kibble in a futile search for more steak strips, basking in the feeling of Roxy’s amusement coming through the mark. It was a small relief that Roxy was able to feel okay even through all of this, especially with how difficult the last few days had been. Sam wasn’t an idiot; she knew that the odds of them getting out of this were pretty low, especially with the full moon ready to rear its head for the eclipse tonight, but if Roxy had the capacity to feel amused at a time like this, that meant that there was no way that things could be completely hopeless on their end. Sam would bet that they were closing in by now, and it was only a matter of time before their rescue team came smashing through the doors. That, or she was completely wrong, and they were doomed to a last minute double-suicide. But Sam didn’t like to think about that. Thinking about that led her mind to a dark place, and she’d spent more than enough time there already, things being what they were.

Accepting that they weren’t going to find any more strips of meat hidden in their food bowl, Sam resigned herself and tossed a piece of kibble into her mouth, biting down on it with a satisfying crunch. Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be at first. Just sort of salty, with a slight hint of a meaty flavour and a weird aftertaste. She knew it was meant to be demeaning, but honestly, she didn’t give shit. Food was food, she wasn’t going to turn it down just because it was made for dogs. Half of the time she was a dog, so really, who cared? At least they were being fed at all, and the mysterious benefactor who kept hiding actual human food in their bowl was certainly helping keep their spirits up, as well.

Speaking of their mysterious benefactor, Sam had her theories, as unlikely as they’d seemed at first. Ever since they arrived at this god-forsaken place, they hadn’t been given a moment’s rest. Every few hours, the big metal door to their cell would open and a group of hunters would enter, taking turns to insult, beat, and spit on them. It was relentless, and it only got worse as the days ticked on, leaving Sam with two suspected broken fingers and several bruised or cracked ribs. Drew was in a similar state. They could barely even get any sleep, the beatings were that frequent. It all changed after Chris and Anne - if that was even her real name - came in and swapped their bucket out a few days in (and thank christ for that, because the smell had become almost intolerable). After that, the beatings lessened dramatically in both frequency and intensity. Sam suspected it was due to Chris’s influence. She’d seen the way he looked at them while waiting for Anne to come back, with none of the rage and hatred of the other hunters. Instead, his expression was that of pity, of regret. That, plus the care he’d treated her with after her whipping, plus the food being smuggled into their cell, painted a pretty solid picture of Chris being their little helper. As for why, Sam couldn’t even begin to guess. The man was as inconsistent as they came. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when a shudder rocked her system, travelling outward from the base of her spine as her wolf raged against the silver collar keeping it locked away. Fur rippled across her skin before falling back out again and turning to dust on the floor, her senses spiking. Her mouth flooded with saliva as her fangs struggled to grow, a sudden patchy growl rumbling from her throat. She was pretty sure she could actually feel her hair growing a few millimetres as the shockwave passed through her. The feeling lasted less than a second before receding, leaving her panting and drooling her excess spit onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” she grunted, swallowing down the drool before she could make too much of a mess. “I wish that would stop happening.”

“At least it’s helping us heal,” Drew placated through a mouthful of kibble.

It was true. Every time one of those spasms hit, her numerous cuts and bruises always felt a little better afterwards, and that was to say nothing on the state of her back, which, while still horribly painful and far from healed, was already doing much better than Roxy’s was by the time they’d rescued her.

She shrugged. “I guess. Not that it’s gonna matter for much longer…”

“Hey, none of that. We’re gonna get out of this. Have some faith.”

Sam frowned. “I have faith. I think things are going well on Roxy’s end. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s the last day. I… I’m scared.” Her voice broke at the admission.

Drew’s gaze softened and he shuffled over, cradling her face and pressing their foreheads together. “Me too, but it’s gonna be okay. I… I think I might have a plan, if you’re up for it? It’s pretty last-ditch, but… Well, we don’t know if the others will find us in time, so it might be all we’ve got.”

She pulled back, sniffling. “What is it?”

“Well, you know how the hunters usually come in twos when they beat us? To keep us both occupied?” Sam nodded, so he continued. “Well, if we can somehow incapacitate both of them next time they come, we can take their weapons and try to make a run for it. With any luck, they’ll have keys to these collars as well.”

“And how exactly do you propose we ‘incapacitate’ them? They have guns.”

Drew grinned. “We take them by surprise, of course. With that.”

He pointed at the bucket in the corner of the room, and a picture of the plan started to form in Sam’s head. It hadn’t been changed since that time with Anne and Chris a few days ago, so it was already decently filled, and they could probably make up the difference with water from the tap on the wall. Regardless, the thought made Sam grin as well. What a perfect way to take revenge.

“I don’t care how well trained you are,” Drew said. “If someone throws a bucket of piss at you, you’re gonna need a second to recover. All we gotta do is pull them inside while they’re stunned, disarm them, and choke them out. We’ve trained for this, Sam. It can’t go wrong.”

“Well, it can,” she replied. “But you’re right. We don’t have many other options. We just… we have to be careful about this, Drew. If this goes wrong, they might kill one of us.”

“Better to die standing than live on my knees.”

She sighed. “I don’t think there’ll be much living, regardless.”

“All the more reason we have to do this.”

She took a breath and nodded. “Alright, fine. But if anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”

He gave her a cocky grin. “Have some faith, Sammie. We’re gonna out of here.”

—

It was Chris’s turn to watch the direwolves’ cell, and he was not having a good time. There were a few reasons for this, number one being that tonight was the night that everything was going to go down. Tonight was the night that two teenagers would be sacrificed to allow the Sons to commit genocide for this hypocritical plan. He knew that he was pretty hypocritical himself for even thinking that, considering how much he’d contributed to it, but hey, the Sons of the Black Sun was built on hypocriticism. It was nothing if not in character. Regardless, the thought of it all coming to a head was putting him on edge. He was beginning to realise that he wasn’t all too keen on the world that Father Superior intended to create; where the Sons ruled over the rest of the populace by right of being the saviours that cleansed the earth of evil werewolves. It probably wouldn’t be a very pleasant world for people like him, who preferred members of the same sex to warm their beds, as secretive as he was about it. The Sons’ doctrine was not conducive to ‘forward-thinking’ ideas, and it was very likely that, should things go to Father Superior’s plan, many people who weren’t even werewolves would suffer for it. And it would all be Chris’s fault. As such, it was to be expected that his thoughts weren’t very happy today. 

That wasn’t all that was worrying him right now, though. In fact, it wasn’t even half of what he was worried about. What he was really worried about was the fact that he was pretty sure private Perkins, the hateful little weasel, had seen him slip steak into the direwolves’ food bowl. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but Chris knew better than to assume it would all be okay where the wolves were involved. Perkins, along with many other soldiers around the outpost, were starting to get a little upset with Chris, due to his meddling in their wolf-beating affairs, so right now he was just counting down the clock until all of his under-handed and slightly traitorous care for the enemy finally caught up with him. Maybe it was what he deserved, after all the people he’d hurt and betrayed over his life. But until that time came, he would continue doing what he thought was right, and watch over the direwolves’ cell so that no one could hurt them more than they already had. 

Part of him wondered why he cared so much, anyway. They were wolves. They were the enemy he had been fighting for fifteen years. He had never so much as lost a night of sleep over the werewolves he’d killed and tortured, and he was certainly still full of that same bull-headed enthusiasm for it while they’d been hunting the direwolves down (even if he was regretting how his relationship with Damien had ended at the time). It was completely normal for him to slaughter wolves by the dozen and not even bat an eye. And yet, here he was, doing rounds outside the cell of two captured wolves, to protect them from his fellow soldiers. By all accounts, it made absolutely zero sense. 

Well, not zero sense. This was a pretty novel situation, as far as his relationships with werewolves went. Most of his interactions with their kind ended pretty quickly, usually with the werewolf skewered on the end of his blade, but that was certainly not the case here. No, instead, he’d been forced to interact with them, treat them like people, talk to them, laugh at their stupid little teenager jokes that really weren’t funny, pretend like he didn’t know what they really were, for months. Seeing Damien almost every day was both required for his mission and something he very much liked to do, but that involved being in the presence of the multiple werewolves who treated Damien’s house like their own, coming and going as they pleased and amicably interacting with Chris as they went. He supposed that, in that time, he may have begun to see them more as the people they were rather than the boogeymen he’d been trained for. That didn’t stop him from hunting them down, but now that they were in his grasp and the consequences of his actions were becoming apparent, his ideals were beginning to blur a little around the edges. They weren’t just faceless beasts anymore. They were a young man and a young woman who probably didn’t deserve to be imprisoned and tortured and killed, despite the lives he knew they’d taken. The least he could do was ease their suffering somewhat, before the necessary evil that would wipe their species from the world.

After all, it was too late to back down now; too much blood had been spilled by his hand in the name of this horrible plan. He was a hypocrite, he knew that, but he wasn’t that much of a hypocrite. He’d dug this hole, now he would see it through to the end, whatever laid in store for him at the bottom. For the good of humanity as a whole.

(It occurred to him, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that his findings over the two direwolves - in that they really weren’t the monsters they’d been made out to be - could probably apply to the rest of their people as well. But, again, it was far too late to back out now, and trying to unravel that particular knot of thought from the frayed mess of his psyche sent such a strong wave of guilt through him that he immediately threw it down and ran for cover. Figuring that one out might just well and truly break him.)

Well, it didn’t seem like any of that was going to matter to him for much longer. He’d just turned a corner and made direct eye contact with Torran, Father Superior’s muscle-bound idiot, who was heading right for him. It seemed Perkins went and reported him after all. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body at the thought, but he smothered it. He would face this like a man, with all the grace and dignity he could muster. This betrayal was his choice, and he would live with it.

The hulking beast of a man walked up to him, far closer than was strictly necessary, Chris thought. “Father Superior has requested your presence,” he explained. And so Chris’s fate was sealed.

Chris kept his expression neutral and nodded, quickly removing himself from Torran’s space and heading in the direction of Father Superior’s office. The second-in-command followed him closely, and Chris had no misconceptions as to why. The man would sooner snap Chris’s spine with his bare hands and drag him there than fail an order from the boss. Despite the fact that he had no intentions to, the realisation that there was no getting out of this sent a sliver of fear through his stomach. He swallowed and grit his teeth, fighting back against the feeling. He could only hope that Watson would be spared.

The trip was mercifully quick, and before long he found himself standing in front of the door to Father Superior’s office. A strong, thick hand descended onto his shoulder, and he forced himself to knock before his arm was ripped from its socket.

“Come in,” answered an old, reedy voice. Chris obeyed.

Inside, the room was not too dissimilar to his own quarters. Blank concrete walls, a bare lightbulb on the ceiling, another door that led to either a bathroom or Father Superior’s actual sleeping quarters, as opposed to this office. The man himself was sitting at a simple desk near the back of the room, reading over something. Chris stepped inside and heard the door close behind him. He did not need to turn to know that Torran had entered as well; the man’s presence was overwhelming.

“Captain Langley,” Father Superior greeted, not looking up from whatever he was reading. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

Chris made sure he was standing up straight as he replied. “Is something the matter, Father?” Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the best choice here, but, so long as the chance existed that this wasn’t what he thought it was, he certainly wasn’t going to implicate himself for no reason.

“Over the past few days, I have received a number of troubling…” He finally looked up from his paper, his one good eye searching Chris like he’d find his answers on his face. “Accusations, from members of the infantry. At first, I was inclined to ignore them. You had done exceedingly well in capturing the direwolves; it wasn’t unbelievable that perhaps some jealousy had been sowed among the ranks. But then, I received another. And another. All of a similar nature, all from sources that would have nothing to gain from the accusation.” He stood from his desk, walking around until he was standing in front of Chris. “They accuse you of colluding with the direwolves, providing them with extra food and protecting them from the righteous retribution that the soldiers seek. I have yet to see what you would have to gain from such cooperation, but with each new accusation, I also have much less reason to doubt these claims. Do you have anything to say in your defence?”

Chris kept his face perfectly neutral as Father Superior spoke. It seemed this was it. The moment where it all came out. He wasn’t going to try to lie himself out of this, even if he thought it would work, which he did not. These were his decisions, and he stood by them. He would face whatever punishment Father Superior deemed necessary. 

“They’re right,” he said. “Ever since the direwolves have arrived, I have been providing them extra food and watching over them to ensure the infantry doesn’t go too far in their… ‘retributions,’ as you put it.”

Father Superior watched him for a second, as if expecting him to continue. His face was passive, but there was something behind his eyes that terrified Chris to his core. “May I ask why, Christopher?”

Oof, the first name was out. That was never a good sign. He took a deep breath before answering. “I believed their treatment to be unnecessarily cruel. They may be werewolves and killers, but they are also teenagers, who’ll be dead by the end of tonight, anyways. It seemed… unfair, to me. Were I in their position, I would have liked to spend my last days in comfort.”

Whatever was behind Father Superior’s eyes was slowly spreading to the rest of his expression. “Death is too quick a punishment for the likes of them. You would rather them not suffer and repent for their sins before the end? Deny them their one chance at salvation? That is what I would deem to be cruel, Christopher.”

Something in his gut twisted angrily. “If they have to suffer like that anyways, what was the point of the whipping? It’s for purification of their souls and repentance of their sins, is it not? Feeding them nothing but dog food and habitually beating them after that seems like nothing more than torture for torture’s sake.”

The priest scowled. “You would claim to know better than I? You would claim that these beasts deserve our mercy after everything they’ve done?”

Chris clenched his fists, years of reading the bible over and over again during his training rushing to the forefront of his mind. It was the only entertainment the rank-and-file soldiers were allowed, and he had memorised it cover-to-cover. “If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat, and if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. Proverbs, 25:21. You know, Father, for a man of the cloth, you certainly don’t seem to understand the first thing about Christianity.”

The room fell into silence as his words echoed across the walls and into the man in front of him. Chris realised just how easily he could kill him, had Torran not been there. It would have been a cinch to wrap his hands around that wrinkly little throat and squeeze until life left the horrible old lich for good. And how many people would be better off for it, too? Alas, speculation was pointless. There was no getting out of what was coming for his insubordination, not with the Incredible Bulk standing menacingly behind him like a muscular grim reaper.

“Kneel, Christopher Langley,” Father Superior hissed, his eyes just about bugging out of his red-flushed face. Chris did as he was told, glaring up at the man he’d pledged his life to. 

“Remove your shirt.”

Chris obeyed. He knew what was coming now. He supposed it was fitting, after everything he’d done; the amount of people he’d condemned to the same fate.

“You are lucky, Christopher. Ordinarily, for such insubordination, such traitorous words, I would have you publicly executed. Alas, today is a special day, and I do not have the time nor the resources to spare for such an event. Besides, I see now what has become of you. A loyal soldier at your core, yes, but after those months you spent among the wolves, their corruption has begun to infect you. I will save you, child. I will purify their darkness from your heart, so that you may live again as a holy soldier of the Sons’ cause come the dawn. Be grateful for this mercy; be grateful that I am choosing to cut out solely the infection, not amputate the limb as a whole. Be grateful that your use to me outweighs the gravity of your sins.”

The priest stepped around him, outside of his field of view, and Chris kept facing forward. Everything was becoming clear to him now. The carefully knotted threads in his mind were finally becoming undone, after so many years of repression. The guilt wasn’t as stifling anymore, when he realised what it all meant. After all, he was about to be purified, wasn’t he? His sins were about to be wiped clean. He could start anew with a fresh slate. And the first thing on New Christopher’s agenda? 

Kill Father Superior, probably. Torran, too, if he found the time. Make sure the direwolves get out okay, then maybe take a long, bullet-induced nap. It sounded nice.

“Repent for your sins, Christopher Langley, and be purified under the light of the Black Sun.”

For the first time in a long time, Chris was at peace.

—

“You hear that?” Sam asked, her ear pressed against the metal door to their cell. She was listening out for when their next tormentors were coming - and thus the keys to their escape plan - but that wasn’t what had caught their attention.

“Yeah,” Drew replied, working through all the stretches that he could manage without tearing his back open again. There really weren't many, but he wanted to be prepared when the time finally came to kick some hunter ass. He paused, focusing on the sound that was echoing into their cell. “Sounds like… the whip?” 

“No screaming, though,” Sam observed. “Either someone’s just getting practice in, or whoever’s being whipped is a lot better at holding it in than we were.”

Drew shuddered at the thought. “Who do you think it is?”

“With any luck, it’s one of the assholes who keep beating us. More likely, it’s probably whoever kept slipping us food.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “I liked that guy.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, well, with any luck, we won’t need his help for much longer.”

They settled back into their assigned positions; Sam listening out for the hunters’ approach, Drew at the ready next to the dreaded bucket. He couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they opened the door to a wave of piss. It might even make up for all of the shit they’d put him and Sam through over the past week.

Eventually, the sounds of whipping stopped, and a few minutes later, Sam tensed up. She glanced over to Drew and nodded, before moving around and tucking herself against the wall, hidden from view should the door be opened. Drew grabbed the bucket and prepared himself, trying not to spill any of its contents. He could hear them now, too. A pair of stomping footsteps approaching the door. Sam met his eyes and they shared a small nod; it was time.

The door unlocked with a click and swung open outwards to reveal the sneering faces of two of their frequent tormentors. They weren’t sneering for much longer, as Drew charged forward and emptied the contents of the bucket all over them. He threw it down and grabbed the closest one by the shirt, pulling him inside, not giving either of them a chance to react as Sam did the same. They cried out in equal parts alarm and disgust, trying to reach for their weapons, but Drew was already there, pulling his soldier’s pistol out of its holster and tossing it into the corner. The guy was still stunned, so it was all too easy to drop him to the floor and get him into a chokehold. He thrashed and flailed against Drew’s grip, but it was useless. His oxygen was completely cut off, and it didn’t take long for his resistance to become weak, hands scrabbling uselessly against Drew’s forearm. Finally, he fell limp against Drew’s chest. Alright, one down. How was Sam doing?

He heard an awful crack and alarm lit up in his chest, but when he turned his head he saw that Sam was perfectly okay, panting and pulling herself out from underneath her victim. He did the same as Sam rushed over to cover their tracks, pulling the door until it was almost closed, leaving it less likely to attract attention from anyone in the halls. 

“You killed him,” Drew observed, looking at the oddly-bent neck of the man Sam had brought down.

“You didn’t?” she asked as she knelt down next to him, rifling through his pockets. “I didn’t want to risk having him wake up while we do this.”

“Good point,” he replied, turning to look at his own prey. Shit, she was probably right. He didn’t want to do this, but they had no way of restraining them to ensure they stayed put if they woke up, and there was far too much at stake here. With a sigh, he grabbed the man’s head and twisted sharply. The crack of his neck snapping made Drew feel sick to the stomach, but he stamped it down, searching through his pockets. 

“No dice on the collar key here. You?” Sam asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, nothing. Dunno what I expected, to be honest. Think we can still do this without our wolves?”

“It’s a bit too late to turn back now, isn’t it?” She chuckled to herself, though it seemed more an attempt to relieve stress than a reaction to anything funny. “We’ve got their guns, and… I think I might have an idea that could help us. It’ll probably be a bit uncomfortable, though.”

He turned around to face her. “What is it?”

“Well, if we try to escape as we are now, people are gonna know what’s up the second they see us. But, if we had some disguises, we could take this plan from ‘probably-won’t-work’ to ‘actually-has-a-chance.’” She gestured at the bodies. “I know we just threw piss all over them, but I reckon these clothes could fit us.”

Drew’s eyes widened. Why didn’t he think of that? “Shit, Sam, you’re a genius! C’mon, let’s do this before someone comes looking!”

They quickly stripped the bodies down to their skivvies and donned the hunters’ uniforms. Usually, it was a simple black long-sleeve with slacks and combat boots, but these hunters had come in with jackets, and one had a cap, as well. Drew let Sam have the cap, as she would no doubt need a bit more cover to be passed off as a soldier at a cursory glance, considering the gender skew here. Thankfully, the collars of the jackets were high enough to cover the silver around their necks, so that was another dead-giveaway they wouldn’t have to worry about.

“God, this is horrible,” Sam whined.

Drew grinned. “This was your idea.”

“Yeah, but-! Ugh, I just hate the feeling of wet clothes against my skin. Especially other people’s clothes.” She visibly shuddered.

He shrugged. “At least they already kinda smell like us. That helps a little.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly say this is my preferred method of spreading my scent around. Leave piss-marking to the actual wolves, thank you very much.”

Drew laughed, then took a deep breath. “Alright, you ready?”

Sam bounced on the balls of her feet. “As I’ll ever be.”

He nodded. “First… I think we need to agree on this, but if I go down, don’t turn back for me. One of us needs to get out of here. They won’t kill us if they only have one direwolf, and that way whoever gets out can lead the pack back here for the rescue.”

Sam hesitated, but nodded after a few seconds. “Alright, but you have to promise to do the same, okay?”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Okay. I promise.”

She nodded again. “Let’s do this.”

Drew took a steadying breath, opening the door and looking around. “Coast is clear. Go time.”

They moved, slipping out of the cell and into the bright hallway. It was almost blinding, after so long in the dark, but there was no time to stand around catching their bearings. They picked a direction on a whim and followed the winding corridors, taking turns based on if they could hear anyone nearby. While their disguises would protect them from a cursory glance, any closer inspection would definitely lead to them getting caught, so avoiding people at all cost was their best bet.

…Fuck, this was a lot harder than Drew thought it would be. They had no idea where they were going, no idea where the exit was, no idea if they were even above or below ground. It wasn’t like there were maps on the walls. They hadn’t even found a fucking staircase yet, too busy going in circles to avoid any hint of another person.

“The Dewsbury outpost had fire exit signs,” Sam whispered. “If we can find one of those, we can follow them to the exit.”

“Step one, actually find one,” he hissed back. Sam grunted in response, clearly also upset at their lack of progress. This was far too dangerous a situation to be dawdling around in. His heart was beating so hard from the adrenaline that he was sure it would give them away if anyone came too close. Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what happened next.

By the time he heard them coming, it was too late to turn back; a soldier’s stomping footsteps, heading towards them fast and purposefully from around the next corner. He and Sam shared a quick, terrified glance, trying to somehow communicate a plan between their eyes before the person rounded the corner, but it was no use. They came around practically sprinting, and ended up barrelling right into Drew’s chest. She - because it was definitely a she - froze, and looked up at him. Her eyes widened in recognition.

Anne.

The world seemed to stop as the three of them stared at each other; Sam and Drew carefully watching Anne for any sign of attack, Anne’s eyes flickering between the two of them as something went on in her head. Drew’s hand slowly gravitated towards the gun on his hip. If she was going to try anything, he was going to be ready. Much to his surprise however, she relaxed, closing her eyes.

“The stairwell is back the way I came. Go down, take your first left and then go right. The front entrance should be there. Avoid getting too close to anyone. Your disguises aren’t as good as you think.” 

The two of them blinked at her, shocked. “Wha-”

“Good luck,” she said, barging past them and continuing her jog down the corridor. They watched her go until she disappeared from view around another corner.

“Well,” Drew said, turning to Sam. “I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Shall we?”

Sam grinned, her blue eyes hopeful for the first time since they arrived here. “Lead the way.”

—

Chris hissed in pain at the medic’s rough treatment of his back. Not that he didn’t appreciate the help - the cream and bandaging had already made a world of difference for the burning agony that had engulfed him during and after the whipping - but the man could certainly use a gentler touch, that was for sure.

“Suck it up,” the doctor said. “You’re lucky you’re even getting this much, wolf lover.”

Chris didn’t deign to reply to that. Apparently, news of his disloyalty had spread fast. Not really surprising, considering how far the sound of the whip could travel, and he didn’t doubt that Perkins would be running his mouth at every opportunity. He was honestly shocked he didn’t get demoted through it all, though he supposed it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t in any state to join the battle tonight, regardless of if he wanted to or not, and he certainly wasn’t planning on sticking around after all was said and done. He’d spent enough of his life serving that hypocritical, genocidal maniac. ‘For the good of the world,’ his left testicle. No, he was getting out of here. The only question was if it would be before or after the bloodmoon. There was no way he’d be able to help the direwolves get out with his injuries, but maybe he could still find some way to halt Father Superior’s plans. He just didn’t want them to die for his mistakes. Either way, that was for later consideration. Right now, he just wanted to get back to his room to have a lie down and a drink.

There was a quick knock on the door before it opened to reveal Watson, in all of her straight-backed, disciplined splendour. Had she heard? Probably, or she wouldn’t be here. Was it to yell at him, spit at him, denounce him for his traitorous acts? He doubted it. She wasn’t complicit, but it was clear that she shared some of his views, at the very least. That face she’d made when he accused her of wanting to beat the direwolves still sat in the back of his mind. She hated their treatment just as much as he did, possibly even moreso. They made eye contact, and he saw the moment her brain pieced everything together. 

“Sir…”

It was barely more than a whisper, but it said everything she needed to say. It was pity and sorrow and anger, and Chris wanted none of it. He just wanted to go the fuck to sleep for a few hours.

“I’m done here, lieutenant,” the doctor said. “Get this trash out of my office.” He gave Chris a rough pat over the bandages on his back and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.

Watson’s eyes flashed with rage, but she forced it back, settling into that well practised neutral expression she only ever dropped when she and Chris were alone. She didn’t respond to the doctor, instead moving over and offering Chris support as he gingerly put his shirt back on and got off the table. Any movement at all was like being flogged all over again, but he grit his teeth and ignored it, slowly making his way to the door, leaning heavily on his lieutenant.

Their walk through the halls was mercifully brief, and they did not encounter anyone on the way to his quarters. That was good, partially because he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, and partially because he was worried Watson might cut them down if they so much as glanced at him the wrong way. She led him inside and helped him down to his cot, laying him on his side. He did his best not to grunt on the way down.

“Can I get you anything, captain?” 

He sighed, long and slow. “Call me Chris, Watson. I’m tired of all of this pomp. We’re friends, you don’t need to give me a title.”

She blinked in surprise. “R-right. Can I get you anything, Chris?” The name came out awkwardly. Clearly, this was going to take some time for her to get used to. 

He hesitated on her question. There was a lot that he wanted right now. Revenge. Justice. Three glasses of bourbon and coke brought to him by an attractive slightly older man who would treat him right. But, in terms of what she could give him? He supposed the presence of a friend wouldn’t be too much to ask.

“Could you… stay with me a while? I’ve got a lot on my mind that I’m not sure I’d like to be alone with right now.”

Watson’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sure.” She pulled the chair from his desk over to the cot, taking a seat. “You can, um…” Her cheeks turned pink as she hid her gaze in her lap. “You can call me Anne, if you want.”

He smiled. “Anne. That’s your first name, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s used it for me. I… I miss it.”

“It’s a nice name.”

Anne hummed, her smile widening slightly. She was silent for a little bit, but then her expression fell again, her brows creasing with concern as she finally looked back up at him. “Chris, what happened? Why did Father Superior… Do that to you?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard?”

“I’ve heard rumours from disreputable sources, but I want to hear your side of the story.”

He shifted a little on the cot, wincing when the action pulled at his wounds. “Well, in short, Father Superior didn’t like it very much that I was stopping people from torturing those kids. That, and I was slipping them food. …And I called out his hypocrisy to his face. I’m honestly shocked I’m still alive.”

Anne’s eyes went wide. “What did you say to him?”

Chris grinned. “I told him that for a priest, he wasn’t acting very Christian. He just about had an aneurysm.”  

Anne laughed. “Oh my god, Chris! Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just sick of all of this bullshit. I never should have brought those kids here,” he muttered bitterly. 

Anne looked at him, her eyes seemingly searching for something. “You wanna know a secret?” she asked.

“What?”

She grinned. “I’d been slipping them food as well.”

Chris chuckled. “I should’ve guessed.”

They shared in the laughter for a little bit before Anne dimmed again. She looked back down at her lap, picking at her fingernails nervously. “They… They aren’t monsters, are they?”

He sighed. Even now, she was looking to him to make her decisions for her, or at the very least confirm them. Hopefully someday she’ll get her independence back. “No, I don’t think they are.”

Her face contorted into a frown and she stood up. “They lied to us. This whole time, they’ve been lying to us. Why? I just don’t get it! Why is that bastard so hell-bent on killing them? And- And why’d people like me- like us, have to get pulled into the middle of it?”

“Power corrupts, I guess,” Chris replied. “Power and hatred. It already isn’t hard to demonise someone who isn’t human to begin with, but when one of their kind ripped half of your face off? Finding a justification to kill them all seems pretty easy after that. Not that justification has ever mattered to him. He just wants glory.”

Anne clenched her fists before taking a deep breath that seemed to sap all the aggression from her body. She sat back down. “They’re escaping, you know. The direwolves. I ran into them on my way to find you. They’ve got disguises and everything. I think they’ve got a chance.”

Hope sparked in his chest at the news. Things might just turn out alright after all. “Good. That’s good. I was already considering asking you to go help them, but it looks like they’ve helped themselves.”

They sat in silence for a little while after that. They no doubt both needed the time to just stew in everything for a minute. The simultaneous collapse of both of their lives probably required more than just a few moments of consideration, but they were running short on time as it was. People were going to realise that the wolves had escaped any minute now, and they were going to be looking for a culprit. It might be in their best interest to get the hell out of dodge sooner rather than later. But first, well… There were no more secrets between them after this anyway, so why not reveal one more? Why not let her know the big one, the one he’d kept to himself for all these years out of fear of his employers? It would be nice to get off his chest after all this time.

“Anne… Can I tell you something?”

She glanced at him. “Of course.”

He took a breath, preparing himself to finally let this well-kept secret out into the world. “Back in Dewsbury, you know how I was supposed to befriend Damien Thura so we could keep an eye on the direwolves?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I may have messed a certain part of that up. I didn’t befriend Damien.”

She frowned. “You didn’t? But you were at his house all the time.”

He managed an exasperated smile. “Yes, I was. Much to my surprise, I found myself quite taken by the man, actually. I didn’t befriend him, I… seduced him. We were dating. In hindsight, a very bad idea, but… the heart wants what it wants, and my heart wanted him.”

It took a second for Anne to process that information, judging by the expression on her face that could only really be described as ‘loading…’ But eventually she caught up. It was honestly quite entertaining, watching the way her face shifted as she clearly tried to find a place in her brain to file away what she’d just learned. “So, you’re… a homosexual?”

He would’ve chuckled if his back wasn’t still so sore. “Your terminology is a little formal, but… Yes, I suppose I am.”

Anne nodded slowly. “Huh. Well, good for you, Chris.”

“I guess with all the other world-shattering revelations of the day, finding out that I like dick doesn’t really seem all that big anymore, does it?”

Hilariously, her face went bright red at that. “Sir!”

This time he did chuckle, though he immediately regretted it. Anne’s face had turned contemplative, though there was the teasing edge of a smirk playing at her lips.

“Well, I suppose that’s something we have in common, then, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

As if perfectly timed to ruin the moment, a series of gunshots echoed through the building, sounding like they were coming from somewhere on the first floor. Anne shot up out of her chair. 

“Shit, they must’ve found trouble.”

She turned to him, her eyes pleading. Even now, she was still looking for permission.

“Go,” he said. “Help them.”

She didn’t linger, sprinting out the door with a fire he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen in her before. The gunfire had stopped, but in its wake it left a horrible gnawing worry in Chris’s gut. That worry was answered when a shriek of pure agony reverberated up through the walls. He swore under his breath and closed his eyes.

Those wolves really couldn’t go two feet without running into trouble, could they?

—

A few minutes earlier…

If this went on for much longer, Sam was pretty sure she’d be liable to have a heart attack. She and Drew had been waiting around the corner to the front entrance of the outpost for at least twenty minutes now. A group of hunters had been milling around directly in their path the whole time, and neither of them wanted to risk trying to sneak past, so they decided to just wait them out. This wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that they were right in an activity hotspot, and the chances of a hunter seeing through their disguises increased the longer they just stood here doing nothing. The hallway was a straight shot with practically no cover, so their odds weren’t good if they ended up having to make a run for it. They could just hide in some service closet for a while, but then they wouldn’t be able to see if the hunters had moved or not, and time was of the essence. Sam could feel the moon already in the beginning stages of an eclipse. She’d always been particularly bad at suppressing her wolf when it wanted out, and it really wanted out right now, silver collar or not. Between the eclipse hyping it up and the silver forcing it down, Sam felt just about ready to tear her skin off for some relief. Not long now, though. Just one more straight shot, and they’d be free.

“I’m not sure how much longer we can wait around,” Drew said. “Night’s already fallen, and we don’t even know what part of the city we’re in yet. We could be miles away from home.”

“You don’t need to tell me, I’m just as eager to get out as you are.” 

Drew hesitated. “Should we just try and sprint through before anyone can react?”

“Maybe, but we’re not nearly as quick without our wolves as we think we are. I tried doing that in the van when they thought I was still knocked out and got my nose broken for the pleasure.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got guns now. We fire a few warning shots, they duck for cover, we make a run for it!”

Sam worried at her bottom lip. “It’s risky…”

“So is waiting around.”

Fuck, he was right. If someone came too close, they were gonna get caught anyway. At least this way, they’d already be moving in the direction of the exit by the time the soldiers caught on. She groaned, more out of suppressed fear than any real frustration. “Fine. But remember our promise. If one of us goes down, the other doesn’t stop, no matter what.”

He nodded resolutely, taking a deep breath. “You got it. Ready?”

She pulled her pistol out of its holster and flipped the safety off. “Ready.”

They moved. Instead of breaking straight out into a sprint, they calmly walked down the hallway towards the entrance, trying to make as much distance as they could before the fireworks started. It was inevitable, though. Two suspicious, beat-up looking soldiers walking towards the entrance with their guns drawn? They were never gonna make it far like that.

“Hey, hold up a sec-”

Sam didn’t hesitate, firing blindly at the hunter as she and Drew broke into a sprint. He went down and the rest of the soldiers scrambled to action as Drew started shooting. It was a complete mess, gunfire cracking off around her ears as Sam just ducked her head and prayed to the moon. The entrance was so close. Just a few more steps and they would be home-free. Bullets were whizzing past her ears and throwing up dust clouds from colliding with the floor and Sam just couldn’t comprehend how neither of them had been hit yet. Probably jinxed it, in hindsight.

Red-hot agony tore through her calf and her leg buckled out from underneath her, sending her sprawling to the ground. She watched in slow motion as Drew started to turn around and forced herself to morph the coming scream of pain into one last command.

“RUN!”

They made eye contact for a split second as he turned back towards the entrance, and Sam felt a message come through their pack bonds. 

I’m so sorry.

He kept running. A sob forced its way out of her throat as she watched him shoulder the door open and disappear out of sight. He made it. He was free.

“Don’t leave me,” she couldn’t help but whisper. She was all alone now.

There was shouting all around her, soldiers trying to reassemble the chain of command in the midst of all the chaos. She considered trying to get up, but her leg quite literally felt like it was on fire, and she couldn’t feel her foot whatsoever, so that was probably a no-go. Her eyes found the pistol still tightly gripped in her hand. She hadn’t been keeping track of her shots, so she couldn’t be sure, but there was a chance it was still loaded. Fuck, there was still one last chance to put a stop to this. If she let them take her again, they were going to inject her with that fucking drug. Seeing what it had done to Leif was horrifying enough, but experiencing it herself? She didn’t even want to consider it, didn’t want to think about the deaths that would be on her head if that happened. Even with Drew’s escape, there was no guarantee that he would make it back in time to gather the pack and save her. On the other hand, she could guarantee that the hunter’s plan would never come to fruition. It would just mean never seeing Roxy again. 

People were going to die tonight, that was a fact. Either Sam was going to die, or her entire species was. It all depended on if this gun was loaded or not. It all depended on if Sam had the guts. 

Fuck it-

click

Sam sobbed as her entire body flooded with equal parts relief and terror. She was still alive. It was all up to Drew now. Someone kicked the gun out of her hand and pinned her down, holding her head to the floor. She didn’t bother resisting. There was nothing she could do anymore. 

“Father! One of the direwolves escaped!” Someone yelled. Oh great, the big boss must be here.

“Which one?” she heard him ask in that awful voice of his.

“Basterfield. We’ve got Reed right here. Should we go after him?”

“Don’t bother. We only need one. Basterfield will die with the rest of his species at midnight.”

The bottom hem of some priestly robes flowed into her field of vision, and Father Superior knelt down until his ghastly face was within her line of sight. She was shocked his knees even had the capacity to facilitate such a movement. “My my, Samantha. You’ve been naughty, haven’t you?”

“D-Don’t talk to me like that, freak. Y-you sound like a f-fucking pedo,” she growled shakily.

His lips curled with disgust. “Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself? You do know there are punishments for this sort of thing, don’t you? I hear your mate attempted something similar during her confinement, and lost a finger for it. Your escape attempt has been far more costly. One soldier dead in this shootout, and who knows how many on your way here? That uniform isn’t yours, after all. So, what say you, Samantha? Do you understand why I have to punish you now?” 

Oh fuck this, he was toying with her. “Suck my dick, asshole. I have nothing left to lose.”

The priest huffed. “Charming. I assure you, Samantha. There is always something more to lose if you just look hard enough, and I have just the thing in mind. It will not be a perfect revenge for what your grandfather put me through all those years ago, but it will suffice.”

She watched with trepidation as he pulled a knife out of somewhere in his robes; the same one he’d stabbed Drew with. She wanted so badly to be strong for whatever was about to happen, but holy christ she was so scared. Roxy was doing her best through the mark, tiny whispers of calming love floating through her subconscious, but nothing could quell the all consuming fear of watching that glinting blade inch ever closer to her right eye. She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut.

The world around her stopped existing when the knife went in. The agony was indescribable. Someone was screaming, probably herself. She was thrashing, writhing, doing anything that might get the pain to stop, but it only ever got worse. Through it all, her mark was pulsing with that one desperate repeated message, over and over. It was the only real thing in an empty universe of anguish, and Sam clung to it with all her strength.

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

—

Drew left her behind. After everything they’d suffered through together in that place, he left her behind. Yes, it was what they’d agreed on, but fuck. That didn’t make it feel any better. He felt so sick, running away like a coward. He’d lost track of how long he sprinted for, but eventually, his battered body couldn’t take it anymore. He collapsed to his knees in a park, panting and sobbing, the red moon shining down upon him from high in the night sky like a judgemental god. Fuck, it was already getting so late. He didn’t have time to have a breakdown about this, he needed to get back as soon as possible. But where the hell even was he? And how was he meant to find his way? The streets were bizarrely empty for some reason, so it’s not like there was anyone he could ask for help.

The sound of footsteps startled him out of his borderline-panicking. He whipped around and drew his gun, too anxious about being followed to care that they were super illegal here. Sure enough, he could just about make out someone in a hunter’s uniform, slinking around in the darkness. He recognised their scent, but that really didn’t narrow it down very much. Categorising which scent belonged to which hunter wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities while they were kicking his teeth in.

“Stay the fuck back! I’m warning you!” He aimed his pistol at them, finger resting on the trigger guard. 

They put their hands up in surrender. “Relax, Drew. It’s me.” Their voice was feminine, familiar.

He paused. “Anne?”

She stepped forward out of the shadows. “Put the gun away before someone sees you. I’m here to help.”

“Why should I believe that?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I let you go before, didn’t I? I even told you the way out.”

Drew hesitated for a second, but ultimately had to concede. “Fine,” he grumbled, holstering his pistol. “What do you want?”

Anne put her arms down, crossing them over her chest. “Like I said, I want to help you. What Father Superior is doing is wrong, and I refuse to be a part of it any longer.”

“Cutting it a bit fucking close, don’t you think?” he spat. “When did you come to that decision? Was it before or after you murdered Clarissa?”

Anne wilted, curling in on herself as guilt racked her features. “I…” She shook her head. “There aren’t any excuses for what I’ve done, but please know if I could take it back I would. When the time comes, you can subject me to whatever punishment you wish, but right now, we need to focus on getting Sam out of there before midnight, which means you need to get back to your pack.”

He sighed. “I don’t suppose you know the way back to our apartment from here?”

“I do, but it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I guessed as much. Well, come on then. Let’s not waste any more time.” 

“I’m not going with you.”

He paused. “What? Why not?”

Anne hesitated. “I… I have a plan, but I need to go back to the outpost to pull it off. It’ll be risky, and it’ll put a lot of people in danger, but after your little stunt, security is going to be on high alert, so it might be the only option.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Once everything sets off at midnight, the outpost is going to be mostly emptied out, aside from a couple of guards here and there and whoever’s necessary for the ritual. There’s a way in through the sewers that comes out at a changing room. I’ll make sure it’s unlocked and unguarded. There should be uniforms there for you to change into as disguises, hopefully ones that don’t smell like piss.”

“Rude,” Drew interjected.

“From there, you just have to sneak up to the third floor, where the ritual will be taking place, and cancel it. All the ritual stuff goes over my head a bit, but we know you wolves have figured out an antidote to DX-47, so you should be able to handle it.”

Drew frowned. “Okay, just one problem. Why specifically after midnight? Won’t they just kill Sam as soon as the ritual is complete?”

“That’s where I come in. You know that under the effects of DX-47, werewolves become pretty much bullet-proof unless there’s silver involved?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, the person who’s meant to execute Sam has already been assigned. All I have to do is replace the silver bullet magazine in his gun with a regular one. We don’t carry silver bullets unless we’re on a hunt, and most of it will be out with the soldiers going to fight, so if I take his silver magazine, there won’t be any to replace it with. They’ll just have to find some other way to kill her, and figuring that out should buy you more than enough time to slip in and get her.”

“What about silvered swords?”

“They’ll all be taken by the soldiers going out to fight. I’m not kidding when I say the outpost will be working with a skeleton crew. Father Superior, Torran, the executioner, and a handful of guards. That’s it. They aren’t expecting for the executioner’s gun not to work, so they won’t be prepared with an alternative.”

Drew thought about it. Fuck, it was a good plan, though. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, trying to minimise the damage caused by the ritual.”

“It’s either that, or you throw everything you have at the literal army waiting for you before the eclipse starts. Unless you wolves have an army of your own hidden somewhere, that’s not a fight you’ll win. I can at least guarantee there’s a chance with my plan.”

Drew clenched his fists. “I hate the thought of leaving Sam to suffer through that on her own, but… You’re right. I’m not sure what other option we have.”

Anne nodded. “Alright, I need to move. Your apartment is about a thirty minute walk.” She pointed at a nearby road. “Just follow that road until you hit Beaufort street, and take a right. Things should start looking familiar from there.”

“Alright. Thank you, Anne. Seriously.”

She looked away. “Don’t thank me. I’m just… paying off a debt.”

“Still… You’ve done a good thing here.”

She frowned, waving him off. “Go home and have a shower already. You seriously stink.”

He chuckled. “That’s the plan. Oh, and while you’re here, I don’t suppose you have the key to this collar, do you?”

She shook her head. “If I did, I’d have given it to you in the halls. We generally don’t carry them around.”

He shrugged. “Worth a shot. I guess I’ll get going, then. I’ll see you later?”

“Unless something goes seriously wrong, then probably.”

With that, they parted ways; Drew jogging down the street as Anne returned to the outpost to prepare for their incursion. He quickly had to slow down to a walk, though, the frequent beatings he’d received over the past week clearly having an impact on his stamina. His whole body ached to shift into his wolf and just run. Hopefully someone back at the apartment would be able to get the collar off, because if not, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Maybe take a buzzsaw to it. 

Just as Anne said, the walk took about half an hour, but Drew wasn’t worried. He could feel that there were still a few hours until midnight, and in the meantime he was going to enjoy every little bit of fresh night air that he got. The streets were empty aside from the occasional homeless person tucked up in a sleeping bag under an awning. He hoped that they would be safe tonight, when all hell broke loose. That was one thing that bothered him about Anne’s plan; the eclipse ritual would still activate. Werewolves all around the world would still turn into feral killing machines until they got in and reversed it. If the hunters wanted to paint them out as monsters, they would succeed. Their only hope was that, by reversing it, they might somehow be able to pull damage control. Well, that was for the Council to worry about, not him. Right now, their pack’s only job was survival, and making sure that there would still be a species to do damage control for come morning.

Before too long, Drew finally made it back to their building. From what he could see through the doors, the front lobby was empty, which wasn’t too surprising. Every non-fighter was probably barricading themselves in their homes right about now. He input the code on the keypad, unlocking the doors and allowing him entrance, before quickly making his way into the elevator. The ride up to his floor was mercifully brief, and once the doors opened he practically sprinted down the hallway towards their apartment, excitement at seeing everyone again overtaking everything else.

Finally, he reached their door, and with a deep breath to calm himself, he knocked. 

—

Something had gone horribly wrong, that was all Roxy could tell. Sam had been fine, determined, hopeful even, but with a burst of pain and a wave of sorrow and terror, it all came crashing down. Then the pain got even worse, bordering on the same level as the whipping, and Roxy had to grip fistfuls of her hair to keep from crying out. It was torture not knowing what had happened, forced to just sit here and wait for those Council jerk-offs to get their heads out of their asses long enough to track down the outpost. It was already 10:30, time was running out! She wasn’t the only one feeling antsy, either. Pedro had just about paced a hole through the floor and Leif had chewed her nails down so far she was liable to bite her fingers off.

A knock at the door snapped them out of it, accompanied by an acrid yet familiar scent. Roxy shot to her feet and Pedro glanced at her, eyes wide, before rushing over and opening the door. Behind it stood a very bruised and battered Drew, a weak smile adorning his face.

“Drew!” Leif all-but flung herself at him as he stepped into the apartment, wrapping him in a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. 

“Ah! Gentle, Leif! I’m pretty tender right now.”

“Sorry!” she said, stepping back. “How’d you get out?! And…” Her face scrunched up. “Why do you smell like piss?”

Drew chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his shaved head. “It’s a long story, but don’t worry. Most of it is mine.”

“Why would that not worry me? And what do you mean ‘most of it?!’”

He waved her off. “The rest is Sam’s. Like I said, it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything soon, but first, I would really like a shower.”

The sound of her mate’s name kicked Roxy into action, despite the inherent confusion of what Drew had just said. She’d been watching the open doorway behind Drew, hoping and praying - perhaps foolishly, after all that she felt through the mark - that Sam would be coming through any second now, but no such luck. She stepped up to Drew.

“Sam… She… She’s not with you, is she?”

Drew didn’t need to say anything; his answer was obvious from the way his face fell and his shoulders dropped. “She… We made an agreement. One of us needed to get out, no matter what. If either of us went down, the other needed to keep going. We… we were so close to the entrance, th-they were shooting at us, and… She got hit. I tried to turn back for her, but she yelled at me to run, so…” He clenched his fists. “I ran.”

Roxy’s whole body flushed with anger, a raging flame lighting her up from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. How dare he just leave her behind?! She was no-doubt about to do something extremely stupid when Pedro placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing it and reining her in. He was right, this was no time to let her emotions get the better of her. She took a second to breath and to think. It could just as easily have been Drew that got left behind instead. They were lucky that he’d escaped at all; now they knew where the outpost was.

She nodded. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go get her, then.”

Drew shook his head. “It won’t work. The hunters have an army in that outpost, a frontal assault is just going to get us killed.”

The anger spiked up again, but Pedro’s steadying hand stilled her tongue from the vitriol she was about to spit.

“What do you suggest, then?” he asked calmly. “From the way you said that, I assume you have a plan?”

Drew took a deep breath. “I do, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it much.”

He explained it to them; his plan to sneak in through the sewers at midnight after the outpost had nearly emptied out, relying on Anne to ensure that Sam survived long enough for them to reverse the ritual. “I know it sounds risky, and I’m sure none of you are eager to trust Anne after what she did, but I really think she’s on our side. The hunters have nothing to gain by getting her to pretend to help us, and I wouldn’t have been able to escape without her help. But, in the end, it’s up to you guys. We can try to attack before midnight, or wait so that we can sneak in.”

Pedro grunted. “I don’t like it. Letting the eclipse ritual happen is gonna get a lot of people hurt. But… If we’re quick about it, it might be the safer option, as you said. It’s better to be able to reverse the ritual after a few minutes than trying to stop it altogether and failing. We can’t have our cake and eat it too.”

Roxy clenched her fists, trying to calm herself. “I… I don’t want Sam to have to go through that.”

“We might not have a choice, Roxy,” Leif softly said, walking up and taking her hands. “At the very least, Sam won’t remember any of it, right? I can’t remember anything from when I was injected with the drug. It might just be a sacrifice we have to make.”

Roxy sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.” She looked back to Drew. “And you’re sure we can trust Anne to swap out the silver magazine?”

He put his hand over his heart. “She’s on our side. You have my full permission to kill me if it turns out I’m wrong.”

“If it turns out you’re wrong, I probably won’t need to kill you. But fine, we’ll do it your way.”

Drew let out a breath, tension dropping from his shoulders. He nodded, mostly to himself. “Alright. With that out of the way, I don’t suppose any of you have a way to get this collar off, do you? I am dying to let my wolf out for a bit.” He pulled his jacket down to reveal the gleaming circle of silver around his neck.

“Here,” Pedro said, grabbing the key he’d gotten from the hunters at the construction site off of the kitchen table and stepping over to Drew. He made quick work of the collar and it fell to the floor with a clang. Drew’s body immediately jerked, his imprisoned wolf finally breaking free and taking over. His eyes turned red as dark brown fur spread over his skin, bones creaking as they changed shape and grew, leaving his clothes in torn up tatters as they failed to contain his shifting form.

He shook out his coat once the transformation was complete, his satisfaction obvious. Leif started doting on him and Roxy sighed, retreating back to the couch and taking her cat in her arms instead. He was no substitute for Sam, but he would do for now. Despite the riskiness of it, finally having a concrete plan felt good. By the end of the night, Sam would be back beside her, safe and sound. 

You don’t have to be scared much longer, Sam. We’re coming for you.

—

Despite the night’s… earlier setback, everything seemed to be going according to plan. Father Superior smiled to himself, remembering the sound of Reed’s scream as he took out her eye, so much like her grandfather’s when he stumbled across his brother’s corpse. One direwolf may have gotten away, but that mattered little in the grand scheme of things. He would be hunted down in time, while tonight would still go on as scheduled. Their little escape attempt had achieved nothing. It was satisfying to think about how powerless they were to stop what was about to happen.

It was almost time; only a few minutes remained until midnight and the beginning of the end for werewolves. During his research, he had discovered that there was actually a fairly large margin of error for the timing required to set the ritual off. It didn’t have to be exactly at midnight, so long as the moon remained roughly at its peak in the sky. There was about a thirty minute window on either side where the ritual could still be performed. It just felt right to do it at midnight.

Preparations for the coming battle were well underway. Soldiers were already pouring out of their outposts all around the world, spreading themselves throughout their cities and setting up their fortifications to protect against the werewolf menace. The only ones that currently remained at this outpost were Sergeant Johnson (the assigned executioner), Torran, himself, and a handful of guards; newer recruits who hadn’t made it out of training yet. Oh, yes, and that borderline traitor Captain Langley, no doubt cowering in his quarters after his purification. Who could forget about him?

Father Superior stepped into the room where the ritual would be taking place. It was quite a simple set-up; a small barracks that had been repurposed. The bunks had been removed to make way for the altar, and a skylight had been installed in the ceiling, allowing the moon’s light to shine down upon whatever poor unfortunate wolf was being experimented on this month. The only semblance of the old room that remained were some lockers, shoved up against one of the walls. Torran and Sergeant Johnson were already there, along with two guards and the woman of the hour herself, stripped back down and restrained to the altar with silver cuffs around her wrists and ankles. 

Stepping closer, she seemed to be in a great deal of discomfort, though that much would’ve been clear from the blood covering half of her face, anyway. Her pale skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted. Her remaining eye was flickering between its natural blue and devilish red, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn he saw thin patches of fur, sprouting out of her skin before sinking back in again, over and over in an arrhythmic pattern. Simply being at the Lunin Site during the peak of a lunar eclipse would have been enough to force her body into a shift, had it not been for the silver keeping her wolf in check. He’d seen it before in other test subjects, but it never ceased to fascinate him.

“How are you feeling, Samantha?” he asked. 

Her eye slowly searched the room until it found him. She was remarkably out of sorts. It was wonderful. 

“F- fu- f-f-fuck you.”

He smiled. Her fear was palpable; this bluster was all just for show. “Pleasant, as always.”

Someone’s watch beeped. “It’s midnight, Father,” Johnson said.

Father Superior took a deep breath. “Then it is time. I don't suppose you have any last words, do you, wolf?”

“I’ll- I- I’ll p-piss on your c-corpse!” 

“I thought not.”

He reached into his robes and brought the container of ritual paint that he’d prepared. Through his research, he’d found that the symbols depicted in the texts regarding the ritual were not actually important; only the application of a certain amount of the paint to the skin. He opened the contained and dipped two fingers in, drawing a large crucifix cross on Reed’s chest. She whimpered at his touch, and the sound sent joy floating through his system.

Next came the prayer. So long as the prayer was offered in full reverence and belief of intention, its contents were not important. Usually, he would be rather unsettled praying to any deity other than God Himself, but he felt the extenuating circumstances allowed him a pass to break the first commandment, in this case. He was doing the Lord’s work, after all.

“I pray that tonight, the light of the Black Sun will bring an end to werewolf tyranny all around the world. I pray that my actions here will be looked down upon as an act of kindness, to allow their accursed souls eternal rest. I pray that they are purified of their unknowing sins, and allowed entrance into His Kingdom in Heaven, as they are poor, wretched creatures, who are unable to comprehend the depths of their corruption, and thus are not deserving of wicked judgement for it. I pray, Lord…”

It was starting. The black paint on Reed’s chest began to glow a menacing red, the same shade as her eye. She cried out as her body attempted to float upwards, only to be held down by the shackles on her extremities. Not long now, and things would begin to become rather unpleasant for the girl.

She let out a gasp as a wave of fur travelled across her body, the incredible surge of Lunin forcing her to shift even as the silver continued to prevent it. As with all of the previous experiments, the silver won out, and Reed started screaming in beautiful agony. The few surviving test subjects had described the sensation as ‘feeling like their body was being ripped apart from the inside.’ A truly divine image to think about as he watched his greatest foe’s granddaughter thrashing and writhing in absolute anguish.

Then something unexpected happened. Through all the screaming and crying, he almost hadn’t noticed it. Her once-mutilated right eyelid had opened, and behind the lid was what seemed like a perfectly intact eyeball, its iris a startling red. Fascinating. He’d only ever experimented with regular lunar rituals before, so perhaps this highly advanced healing was a side-effect of how much more intense the Lunin surge was with an eclipse. Lucky her, he supposed. She got to have her eye back right before the end.

Alright, now for the main event. Father Superior pulled a syringe out of his robes, squeezing the plunger until some of the opaque liquid inside squirted out of the end. Without wasting any more time, he injected DX-47 into Reed’s neck, just above her silver collar, and stood back. Time for the fireworks to start.

No matter how many times he watched the change, he always forgot just how glorious it was. The shift overpowered the silver, forcing Reed’s body through an impossible transformation and unleashing her true form to the world; dragging her to the perfect mid-point between Man and Beast. Golden fur spread across her entire body, but her skeleton did not change shape into a wolfish form. No, instead it grew, thickening and expanding along with her muscles to the point of almost bulging straight through her skin. Her fingers ripped themselves open to make way for razor-sharp claws. Her face distorted into a half-snout, skin stretching and teeth lengthening into fangs too large to fit in her mouth, her jaw cracking and thinning itself to make space. A tail burst out from the bottom of her spine with a wet squelch, the new appendage already covered in fur. She was complete. A nine-foot tall monstrous beauty. And along with her, so changed was every werewolf in the world.

She let out a roar that shook his ribcage and vibrated his eyes inside his head, thrashing against her bindings with a renewed vigour. It was a futile endeavour; even with her newfound strength, the silver should still be muting it too much for anything to break. With a sigh, Father Superior nodded to his sergeant, who pulled out his pistol and held the barrel to Reed’s skull. 

“Rest easy now, Samantha, for your work in this world is finished.”

Sergeant Johnson pulled the trigger and Reed’s head jerked, snapping to the side. It was done…

The roar she let out was loud enough to break glass. Somehow, Reed was still alive, even angrier than ever, glaring at Johnson as she pulled at her bindings in an increasingly effective attempt to bite his throat out. Johnson stumbled back in alarm, emptying his mag almost point-blank into Reed’s face. It only succeeded in making her angrier.

Father Superior turned to his second-in-command. “Torran, go get something high-calibre. Quick, before she breaks free!”

Torran wasted no time, sprinting out of the room at full tilt as the guards also emptied their weapons into the beast. It was no use, and those shackles weren’t looking nearly as strong as they were a few minutes ago…

SNAP

The silver shackle that once held Reed’s left arm down flew across the room, smashing into one of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and sending sparks raining down upon them. She reached over to her other wrist, grabbing the shackle there and pulling, using every single muscle in that massive arm of hers.

SNAP

With both of her hands now free, Reed reached up to the collar around her neck, tugging at it with all her might.

SNAP

Father Superior began to back away as Reed reached down to her ankles.

SNAP

SNAP

The she-beast wasted no time with her freedom, flinging herself bodily at Johnson, who was cowering in a corner. The sound of his screams filled the air as he was ripped limb from limb, blood and body parts spraying across the room in a gruesome display of the true strength of a werewolf. Father Superior silently backed up until he hit the lockers in the corner of the room, opening one and stuffing himself inside, praying on his rosary that he would not be found as he watched the carnage unfold through the slits in the door. Those guards were next on the menu, having stayed in the room through some mixture of heroic valiance and stupidity. They barely lasted ten seconds between them.

Once she was finished with her victims, Reed sat back on her haunches and let out an ear-splitting howl that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building as it reverberated off of the concrete around them. Father Superior could feel his hands shaking and he prayed that it would not give him away.

Reed’s head snapped towards his locker. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have sworn that those red eyes of hers locked straight onto his, even through the door. She stalked towards him, a throaty growl shaking the very air around them, filling him with dread. This must be it, then. This would be how his long life would come to an end; at the hands of his greatest foe’s kin. It would be fitting, he supposed, and it also would not matter. The ritual was a success, and thus, so was his plan. The werewolves of the world would die no matter his fate.

A gasp caught Reed’s attention right as she was about to reach his locker. There, in the doorway, stood a terrified, pale-faced guard, clearly coming to investigate the disturbance. He turned and ran, and Reed gave chase.

Father Superior let out a sigh of relief, clutching his rosary tightly. 

The night of the Bloodmoon had begun. Laudate Lucem Solis.