chapter 7

Bane’s POV

I stood in the center of the cell, the silver-lined shackles biting into my wrists, suppressing my wolf until my veins felt like they were filled with crushed glass.

The sound of the assault above had shifted. The rhythmic gunfire was replaced by the wet, frantic sounds of close-quarters slaughter. Then, the heavy reinforced door at the end of the corridor buckled.

A concussive blast blew the hinges inward.

Through the smoke, the masked invaders poured in. They moved with a predatory silence that chilled even my blood. They weren't looking for me. They moved past my cell with a chilling indifference, their blades finding the throats of the Brooks guards who had just finished locking me away.

"Silas! Release the dampeners!" I roared over the din.

The Beta was pinned against the far wall by a masked giant. He looked at me, his eyes wide with a sudden, horrific realization.

He reached for the remote on his belt, but a blade found his shoulder first. He dropped the device. It skittered across the stone floor, stopping just inches from my reach.

I didn't wait. I threw my weight against the bars, my muscles screaming as I forced the shift. My bones cracked and elongated, the silver in the shackles searing my skin. I didn't care. I reached through the bars, my claws scraping the stone until I snagged the remote.

The click of the release was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

The shackles fell. The silver dampeners in the walls hummed and died. Power—raw, cold, and lethal—flooded back into my limbs. I kicked the cell door off its track.

I expected the invaders to turn on me. I expected a fight. But as I stepped into the corridor, the masked men stayed focused on the Brooks lineage. They were systematically erasing the guard. One looked at me, his eyes behind the mask unreadable, and then he simply turned away to gut a retreating soldier.

"Why aren't they attacking him?" a dying guard gasped, clutching his throat.

I didn't have time for the politics of a massacre. I grabbed a fallen blade and carved my way through the chaos. These men fought like shadows, but I was a storm. I tore through the corridor, my path leading upward toward the surface. Every guard I tried to save was dead before I could reach them.

The invaders were efficient; they were a cleanup crew, not an army.

I burst out of the pack house and into the cold night air. The driveway was a graveyard of luxury vehicles and tactical vans. I sprinted for my car, my lungs burning with the scent of burning rubber and fresh kill.

I threw myself into the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life with a predatory growl. As I shifted into gear, my headlights swept across a matte-black van idling near the exit.

In the front passenger seat, a man sat perfectly still.

Our eyes met through the glass. The moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw and the cold, calculating curve of his mouth. He looked familiar—not like a friend, but like a ghost from a nightmare I couldn't quite place. He didn't look like a rogue. He looked like an architect watching his building burn.

The van tore away, tires screaming.

"Not today," I hissed, slamming the car into pursuit.

I chased them past the Brooks' gilded gates and onto the open highway. The needle climbed—140, 160, 180.

The black van handled the corners with a stability that shouldn't have been possible. We crossed the pack border, the invisible tether of the territory snapping as we hit the neutral zone.

Then, the van took a turn down a tunnel. I immediately followed but before I could exit the tunnel, the car was gone.

It didn't slow down; it simply wasn't there. I slammed on the brakes, the

My car skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty road.

I didn't waste time looking for a ghost. I pulled a sharp U-turn, the tires smoking. If the Brooks pack was being purged, my estate, and Zelda were the next targets.

The drive back to my territory was a blur of high-speed fury. I didn't slow down for the gates; I signaled the override and tore up the driveway. I was covered in my brother's blood, my shirt shredded, my hands still stained with the copper tang of the dungeon floor.

I didn't take the stairs; I used the balcony, vaulting the stone railing and shattering the glass door to the room.

Zelda was there. She was standing by the fireplace, a book clutched to her chest as if it were a shield.

When she saw me, she let out a strangled cry, the book hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

"Bane?" Her voice was small, trembling. She moved toward me, then stopped, her jade-green eyes widening as she took in the state of me.

"There’s... there’s so much blood. Are you hurt? What happened at the Brooks house?"

I strode across the room, ignoring the glass crunching under my boots. I didn't touch her—I couldn't, not with my hands looking like a butcher's—but I stood close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at me.

"Pack your things. Now," I said, my voice a low rasp.

"Bane, you’re shaking," she whispered, reaching out a tentative hand before pulling it back. "Tell me what happened. Did something happen? Is the pack safe?"

"The pack is gone, Zelda. The leadership is decapitated." I grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and began throwing essentials into it with a violent efficiency. "We are leaving the territory. We aren't going to the corporate office. We’re going to the safe house in the mountains."

She grabbed my arm, her fingers surprisingly strong against my bicep. "Why? If there’s an attack, your guards are here. We’re safe behind the wards."

I turned to her, the weight of Raymond’s dying words and the Beta’s accusation pressing down on me. "The wards won't hold against what Claus has invited in. And I cannot protect you from a prison cell."

"Prison?" Her breath hitched. "Bane, look at me. Who did you murder?"

I looked her directly in the eye, letting her see the cold reality of the situation. I didn't sugarcoat it. I didn't offer the 'green flag' comfort she wanted.

"The Head Alpha," I said. "My brother. I am charged with regicide, Zelda. By tomorrow morning, every pack in the alliance will have a bounty on my head and a warrant for your 'recovery.' To the world, I am a killer who stole his nephew's mate and slaughtered his own blood to keep her."

She backed away, her face pale, her hand moving instinctively to the slight swell of her stomach. "Did you? Did you do it?"

"He died in my arms, stabbed by a shadow while his son was probably busy finding someone to replace you," I growled. "I didn't pull the trigger, but in the eyes of the law, I’m the only one standing over the body. Now, move. Every second we stay here is a second closer to Claus finding a way to take those children from you."

The mention of the babies snapped her out of her shock. The soft, sweet girl I had first met vanished, replaced by the mother whose wolf was tied to mine.

She didn't ask another question. She turned and began grabbing her medical supplies and the few items of clothing she had.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice steadying.

"Into the shadows," I replied, checking the clip on my sidearm. "Where the Royal Court can't find us, and where Claus is too afraid to follow."

As we sprinted for the garage, the sky to the south began to darken. The first rain of the year.

The hunt was on. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't the hunter, I was the shield.