The voice wasn't demanding like Emin. It wasn't clinical like Damaris.
It sounded like gravel. Like a bad habit you couldn't quit.
"That's a nasty little trap the Warlock laid for you. He really doesn't trust his new toy, does he?"
Ravenna scrambled up. She stared at the ceiling vent. The silver dart was gone.
"Who are you?" She clutched the collar of her ruined uniform.
"Doesn't matter," the voice drawled. "I'm out here. You're in there. Two choices, Hybrid. Sit tight and let the Warlock poke you with needles until you crack. Or bet on the guy who just broke his wards."
Rough logic. But undeniable.
Damaris saw a tool. Emin saw a tainted subject.
This guy? He sounded like he just saw an opportunity.
"How?" she asked.
A low, cynical chuckle scraped through the vent.
"Patience, little witch. Impatience gets you caught by Lycans. Logic gets you silenced by Warlocks."
Hiss.
A section of the pristine white wall near the floor didn't explode. It just... gave up.
It dissolved, retracting into the stone like melting wax.
It revealed a hole. Dark and jagged. A throat of dust and old wires leading into the building's guts.
A man slipped out.
He didn't land with a "cat-like grace." He landed silently, efficiently, like a shadow detaching itself from the wall.
Asher Vervent.
No tailored suits. No expensive armor. He wore worn leather that looked like it had been dragged through a swamp and sewn back together.
His eyes were green. Startlingly bright. But they scanned the room with the detached boredom of a mechanic looking at a broken engine.
He carried no staff. No gun. Just a harness of sleek, silver blades that looked very illegal.
He smelled of old metal and trouble.
"Took you long enough," Asher said. He pushed a lock of greasy dark hair out of his face. "Warlock spells are annoyingly thorough."
Thump.
Ravenna felt the third pull of the Mate Bond.
This one wasn't agony. It wasn't ice.
It was adrenaline. Pure, stupid recklessness. A demand to follow him, break every rule, and trust only the dark.
"You're one of them," she realized, backing up. "You're my Mate."
Asher's mouth twisted. A genuine, ugly sneer.
"Don't insult me. I don't belong to a curse or a bloodline. I'm a free agent."
He crouched, running a finger over the scorched runes on the wall.
"And you, little Hybrid, are just loud. You nearly got a contact of mine killed with your amateur fireworks show back at the diner."
He stood up. Held out a hand.
It wasn't romantic. It was utility. Like offering someone a wrench.
"I'm not here to save you. I'm here to clean up the mess. And the cleanest way to do that is to get you away from the two high-and-mighty lords tearing up the Spires looking for you."
"They're working together?" Ravenna asked. Her stomach dropped.
"Oh, yeah. Two tyrants holding hands because they hate the same guy. Nyzor."
Asher checked the hallway behind the vent.
"The Alpha wants his trophy. The Warlock wants his key. They'll kill each other the second you're safe. But right now? They hunt as a pair. Which means you need to disappear."
"Come on. The longer we talk, the closer Damaris is to realizing I left a crack in his armor."
Ravenna looked at him. The cynical Hunter who promised danger versus the sealed door that promised a cage.
No contest.
She took his hand.
Asher didn't take the hallways. Too predictable.
He dragged her down into the ventilation shaft.
It smelled like dead rats, mold, and forgotten magic. The darkness was absolute. But Asher moved through it like he had a map tattooed on his eyelids.
Ravenna had to rely on the sound of his breathing and the desperate tug of the bond just to not smash her face into the stone.
"You're a half-breed too, aren't you?" she whispered, bumping into his back.
Asher paused. The air in the tunnel went cold.
"I'm the worst kind. No home. No pack. No coven. Just a long memory for grudges."
He pointed to a narrow gap in the stone ahead.
"Damaris warded every inch of the pretty stone upstairs. But he ignored the foundation. Too primitive for his refined tastes. We're hitting the old tunnels."
"The Lycans built these?"
"Worse. Something that was here before those idiots started their war," Asher grunted, sliding through the gap. "It's tight. Don't use your chaotic mojo. It makes noise."
They shimmied through the suffocating tunnel.
Descending down and deeper. Into the earth's belly.
The sterile buzz of the Coven Spires faded. It was replaced by raw, heavy magic. It felt neutral and old.
Her Lycan side actually calmed down. It liked the dirt.
"If you hate the mate bond so much, why help me?" Ravenna asked, breathless, pushing through a choke point.
Asher stopped. He turned in the gloom.
He didn't dodge the question.
"Because the moment you showed up, the system broke. The Alpha is distracted. The Warlock is compromised. Nyzor is focused on one target."
He reached out.
His thumb brushed the smudge of dirt on her cheek. Not a caress. An acknowledgment.
"You're chaos, Ravenna. And chaos is the best cover an agent can ask for."
His voice dropped low.
"The Alpha and the Warlock want to use you. I want to teach you how to be unusable."
They moved for an hour. Maybe two.
Finally, they spilled out into a vast, damp cavern beneath the city. Far below the Grey Zone.
"Home," Asher announced. His voice echoed off the wet stone. "For now."
The break lasted exactly one second.
Snap.
A scent hit Ravenna. Bitter ozone and heavy discipline.
Nyzor's hunters.
"Damn it," Asher hissed.
His easy, slacker calm vanished. He snapped into lethal focus. A silver dagger appeared in his hand.
"Too slow. They must have been watching the Lycan's car."
He shoved Ravenna behind a massive stalagmite.
"Stay quiet. Remember what I said. They want chaos gone. Don't give them a clean shot."
Shadows detached themselves from the far wall of the cavern.
Large figures, disciplined and moved with terrifying efficient.
These weren't rogues. These were the elite cleanup crew of the Lord of Blood.
The hunt was on.
And Ravenna was finally running with the only mate who didn't want to put her in a cage.