The tunnel tasted like dust and failure.
Emin Fernwhistle stood before the wall of debris. His tailored jacket was torn. His face was streaked with grime. The golden-amber of his Alpha eyes burned with a fury that could peel paint.
The Mate Bond was a constant, sharp throb in his chest.
It was a homing beacon. It told him she was alive. It told him she was safe.
And it told him she was running away with a useless, bottom-feeding rogue.
"An hour," Emin bit out. He kicked a loose stone. It skittered into the dark. "We've wasted an hour because of a tantrum."
A few feet away, Damaris the Black worked.
He was infuriatingly clean. A faint dusting on his boots was the only sign he was underground.
He didn't lift the rocks with his hands. He used silent, weaving runes to levitate a massive boulder, moving it aside like a chess piece.
He didn't look at the Alpha.
"The 'tantrum' was a concentrated, kinetic Hybrid surge," Damaris corrected. His voice was ice. "It was not accidental, Alpha. It was geometry."
He floated another rock away.
"The girl is learning to aim her destruction. She is the catalyst."
Crash.
Emin slammed his fist into the tunnel wall. Stone cracked.
"She is mine! And she is contaminated! She needs correction, not a physics lesson! Your magic is too slow, Warlock! I should shift and tear this mountain apart!"
"And alert every one of Nyzor's hunters to our exact GPS coordinates? No, thank you."
Damaris snapped his fingers. The levitating rock settled with a heavy thud.
He turned. His calm finally fractured.
"You are all heat and no foresight, Lycan. Your precious instinct will get us killed."
They stood nose-to-nose in the narrow, suffocating tunnel.
Two apex predators. One made of muscle and fur, the other of void and mind.
The Mate Bond screamed between them. But their hatred was louder.
"She chose the rogue," Emin snarled. He leaned in, invading the Warlock's space. "She chose Asher Vervent. A half-breed who trusts no one. She chose betrayal over the safety of the Pack."
Damaris gave a dry, scratching laugh.
"She chose freedom over captivity. You offered a cage of tradition. I offered a cage of logic. Asher offered a door. Why are you surprised?"
Damaris sneered.
"You both reek of control."
Emin seized Damaris's wrist. His grip was iron. "Watch your tone, Warlock. You forget whose territory you're on."
"And you forget whose power is keeping this tunnel from collapsing on your thick skull!"
Damaris's pale eyes flashed with dark-blue electricity.
"We have one goal: retrieve the Hybrid before Nyzor claims her. Do not mistake this for an alliance, Alpha."
Emin released him. He made a sound of pure disgust.
They resumed the pursuit. Damaris moved silently. Emin thundered behind him.
Minutes later, they reached the battle site.
Damaris paused. His face sharpened.
He raised a hand. "Stop."
A faint, shimmering image of the tunnels appeared in the air—a magical reconstruction of the last hour.
"The rogue's path is unpredictable," Damaris muttered, tracing a line in the air. "Highly skilled. But the Hybrid... her energy is loud."
He knelt. He pulled a crystalline shard from his pocket. A low-level scrying spell washed over the stone.
"Here."
Damaris pointed to a pile of pulverized rock. Not broken. But completely dust.
"Lycan aggression. Fueled by chaos. That was Ravenna."
Emin knelt beside him. His expression turned grim. "She hit him hard."
Damaris moved his hand to a deep dent in the wall.
"This was a Nyzor hunter. Struck with pure kinetic force. And here..."
He pointed to a faint, oily footprint in the dirt.
"A rogue mark. It means the hunter didn't get back up. The rogue is teaching her to fight."
"He's corrupting her," Emin growled as he stood up, towering over the scene.
"He is educating her," Damaris corrected. He returned the crystal back to his pocket. "The Hybrid is dangerous and capable. We are wasting time."
He looked at the Alpha.
"They are leaving the tunnels. Where would a desperate Hybrid and a packless rogue run?"
Emin paused. He forced his brain to stop roaring and start thinking.
"The Grey Zone Outskirts," Emin said. "The Docks."
"Why?"
"Derelict warehouses. Old human structures. There is a bad cell service and the smell... fish, diesel, rot. It's the only place big enough for a fight and messy enough to hide a scent."
"Precisely," Damaris said. A thin terrifying smile touched his lips. "We don't chase them. We cut them off."
They abandoned the tunnels. They emerged onto a deserted service road under the moonlight.
Damaris performed a swift, complex teleportation ritual.
The air warped. Space folded.
Pop.
They reappeared instantly across the city, behind a rusted chain-link fence near the docks.
Damaris staggered. He grabbed the fence to stay upright. His skin was grey.
"Don't worry, Lycan," Damaris gasped, wiping blood from his nose. "It only took enough energy to feel like a week-long hangover."
Emin ignored him. He checked the coordinates instead.
He could almost smell them. Ravenna's fear and Asher's excitement.
"We wait," Emin commanded. He reached for his comms device. "We set a silent perimeter. No engagement until—"
"Wrong, Alpha."
Damaris straightened up. He smoothed his suit.
"We engage immediately. The rogue is too unpredictable. If he senses a perimeter, he will use the Hybrid as a shield."
Emin gripped his weapon. "You will not touch my Mate with a binding spell."
"I will not let your Mate escape with a criminal," Damaris countered.
He drew his energy close. The air around him turned cold.
"Let us establish the rules. You use your strength to secure the area and handle the rogue. I use my magic to prevent the Hybrid's escape."
Damaris locked eyes with him.
"You watch the front. I watch the back. If either of us tries to claim her alone, this alliance ends in blood."
The silence stretched. Tense. and brittle.
Emin knew this was the only way. To fight the Warlock now was to lose Ravenna forever.
"Agreed," Emin ground out. The word tasted like bile.
"But if you harm her Warlock, I will tear this city down to find your spine."
Damaris simply inclined his head. Cold triumph in his eyes.
"Understood. Now, let us retrieve our destiny."
They moved out.
Two powerful lords. Divided by hatred. United by a single goal.
The trap was set.