Chapter 4.

Zeus.

An hour later…

The sounds of guns blasting through the grounds hit hard like flash grenades.

The sentinels positioned at the walls continue raining a barrage of laser bullets at the rebels. Vampires and werewolves who have decided to breach the walls of the health station.

“Shoot every one of them down!” I thunder as I crouch low behind the metal wall of the fort, aiming shots at the rebels trying to climb the wall.

This side of the health station has no barriers against magic. Only my quarters and the dungeons have magical barriers. That is the reason I was not affected by the sleeping spell cast over the premises the night the station was breached.

“Gun them down!” I roar again, just as one of the morphed werewolves leaps over the wall and pounces on me.

I tackle the beast, both of us rolling across the concrete ground. My gun skids away. The werewolf growls, jaws snapping just inches from my face. I grunt beneath its weight, muscles straining as I push its jaws away.

Fighting against the crushing force. I reach for my gun, but the werewolf is too strong.

Then my fingers brush against a stick. Without hesitation, I grab it and slam it hard across the werewolf’s skull.

It stumbles.

Quickly, I scramble for my gun, whip it up, and fire directly at the werewolf’s heart. The wolfsbane and quicksilver bullet pierces through flesh and bone. The werewolf howls, clutching its chest before collapsing to the ground, writhing violently in pain.

Then it goes still.

Limp. Dead.

I stand there panting heavily, breaths ragged, chest heaving in sharp successions. I whip around, watching as my men continue battling the werewolves and vampires.

I am growing weary of this. I turn to one of my men and grab him by the collar.

“Get the gas. The one our scientists developed recently.” I grit out. His face drains instantly. “I want you to throw it into the air.”

“B...But sir... it has not been fully tested yet. We do not know what it is capable of.” The soldier tries to argue.

I grip his neck tighter.

“I do not need arguments right now.” My voice drops, deadly. “I want this rebellion squashed instantly. I do not care what has to be done. Now do it.”

I shove him back violently.

“Y...Yes, sir.” He stumbles before scrambling to his feet and rushing off to obey.

I turn back to the battlefield as chaos continues unfolding around me.

No. No. I will not fail.

I cannot fail. I cannot be seen as the Battle Chief of all regions who failed to keep one wing under control. I refuse. I will not be identified as a failure by my brother.

I will not be identified as a failure by anyone.

A memory flashes through my mind. That smug look on that girl’s face. That hope burning in her eyes. As though she had been silently saying, 'See, Commander. I shall be saved after all.'

My jaw hardens. Not on my watch. I turn sharply and march back inside. Three of my men follow close behind me. Our boots echoing through the paneled corridors of the station. We move until we reach the control room. I spot the soldier I sent earlier.

“Where is the gas I ordered?!” My voice crashes through the room as I storm inside.

The sounds of beeping and blaring machines ring around me. Perimeter alarms scream from every direction due to the obvious breach.

“Sir... Sir...” One of the scientists steps forward cautiously. I glare at him. “That gas still requires testing, sir. It still needs approval.”

I do not let him finish.

I raise my gun and fire.

The bullet silences him instantly. He crumples to the floor like a deck of cards.

Screams ripple through the room. Then silence.

Pure dread coils through their faces as I slowly survey them.

“Anyone else wishes to oppose my orders?” My voice comes out calm.

Especially considering the storm raging inside me. No one steps forward. I sweep my gaze across the room.

“I thought so.” I gesture toward the controls.

“Now fire the gas. Immediately.”

I step toward the jumbo screen, watching as my men scramble behind me to obey. On the screen, my soldiers continue battling the vampires and werewolves.

In minutes, this will be over.

“Sir, the weapon is ready.” One of my men announces from behind me.

I turn slightly.

“Good.” My lips curl. “Fire.”

Within seconds, the gas is released into the air.

I watch in cruel satisfaction as the werewolves and vampires begin collapsing. One by one.

Slowly crumpling. Writhing. Screaming.

Their bodies convulse violently before beginning to mutate.

Their flesh twists grotesquely. Bones snap. Skin melts.

And right before my eyes, they collapse into mangled heaps of ruined flesh. Their wails echo through the jumbo screen.

Then silence. Nothing but piles of crumpled flesh scattered across the ground. Not a single one left standing. Not a single one left to challenge me. Not a single one left to make me feel like a failure.

And yet something inside me tightens.

My chest constricts.

The victory does not settle right. It feels lodged in my throat like poison.

I shut my eyes. And I see her. Athena. I see her face. The tears she will shed when she hears this.

A strange guilt settles inside me like a second skin. Heavy, unwelcome and unshakable.

***

Athena.

Meanwhile…

I pace inside my prison cell, wringing my fingers. Cold seeps into my bones.

I do not know whether it is the chill from hearing about Alpha Octavius’ death or if grief itself has made my body this cold. But I know one thing. Grief is swallowing me whole.

I haven't stopped crying, since the guards brought me in here.

And right now, I am desperately hoping the rebels break in and rescue me so I can go back and help console my grieving pack.

Octavius. Dead.

It still feels impossible.

My insides tighten painfully, as I remember the sight of his heart in that chest. That heart of his that was wonderful. Kind. And now he's gone forever.

Worse, members of my pack, angry, aggrieved, without a leader, are here now to take vengeance and probably to save me. Yet I cannot even see what is happening.

What is going on? Why have I stopped feeling the presence of my brethren through the link?

Panic spikes inside me.

Something is wrong. Very wrong. I stop in front of the door, straining to reach them.

Nothing. Just moments ago, I felt them.

From the second the ruthless commander announced their arrival, I had felt them. And when the battle started, I heard their wails. Their courage. Their bravery.

Even the barriers of this damned prison cannot sever the inborn connection werewolves share.

Quietly, I sink to the floor before the door, crossing my legs.

I steady myself into meditation, trying to reconnect.

“Please...” My whisper cracks. “Anyone out there... please.” My lips tremble as I raise my palms in subtle plea.

Silence. Nothing.

Not even the faintest sign of a heartbeat.

Panic claws harder.

I try to slip into a trance.

Still nothing. Then suddenly, the scent of blood slams into my nose. I stiffen.

No. That is not them. It cannot be.

I push the scent away.

I have to find them. They have to defeat the commander. They have to save me. Then another scent hits. Wolfsbane. Quicksilver.

My stomach twists.

Why those scents?

Footsteps suddenly jolt me back. I scramble to my feet just as the iron door groans open. The key twists.

CLICK.

The lock releases. The door swings wide. Commander Zeus steps inside. Three of his men follow behind him, carrying a sack. A strange dripping sound follows them.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The scent hits first.

Blood. Rot. Burnt flesh.

My stomach lurches.

I clamp a trembling hand over my nose.

“I wanted to bring you a little something.” Commander Zeus’ voice slices through my thoughts.

My gaze snaps to him.

He looks maddeningly composed despite his slightly disheveled state. I glare at him.

“I do not need anything from you.”

He raises a brow. A cruel smile pulls at his lips.

“Oh, I think you will like this one.”

My heart drops. He turns to his men.

A silent signal passes between them. They nod. Then overturn the sack.

I stagger back as chunks of burnt flesh spill onto the floor. A broken cry lodges in my throat.

I gag violently. No. No. No.

“Those are the remains of your fallen brethren,” Commander Zeus says casually.

My gaze snaps to him.

Horror tears through me. My insides twist so violently I sway.

No. That is not true.

That cannot be true.

But the look on his face tells me everything. He is not joking. He killed them. Again.

A wail tears out of me.

Raw. Animalistic. Devastated. I collapse to the floor, sobbing violently. My entire body shakes. My chest feels like it is being ripped apart from the inside.

“Leave the remains here with her until I return from DC Wing.” I hear him order through my cries.

“B...But sir... she could fall sick. She could even die...” One of the men hesitates.

I do not lift my head.

I cannot. I am breaking, completely. I feel sick. Coughing and puking where I lie on the cold floor. The stench of dead flesh sickening.

A pause. Then Zeus' voice comes.

“I know,” Zeus says coldly. “Perhaps it will teach her to know her place. And the place of every other rebel.”

My stomach twists harder. Footsteps retreat. The cell door slams shut. And I am left alone. Alone with the remains of my people.

With the smell of blood, rot, and burnt flesh clinging to my skin like a punishment. Like shame. Like defeat.

Like grief made physical.

I curl tighter into myself, sobs wrecking my body as my fingers claw weakly at the cold floor. As I wait for the death they speak of to claim me, whole.

Then something slides beneath my cell door.

I freeze.

My gaze slowly drops. A tiny glass vial rolls across the stone floor, stopping inches from my knee. My brows knit. Beside it is a folded note. My trembling fingers reach for it. I unfold the paper. Just five words stare back at me.

'DRINK. BEFORE HE COMES BACK.'

My breath catches. Confusion slams into my grief. I slowly lift the vial to eye level. The liquid inside is dark. Thick. Scent familiar.

Wolfsbane.

My entire body goes cold.

Wolfsbane should kill me. So why would anyone want me to drink this?