The Extraction

There was no flashbang, no explosion. Instead, there was the metallic sound of a glass cutter and the slight hiss of a high-pressure gas canister being deployed. I felt Cane’s body undergo a terrifying change. He didn’t shift fully, but his skin turned to ice, and his muscles hardened into granite.

"Saul," I said, scrambling back as Cane lunged for his discarded shirt.

"The bastard didn't wait!"

"He's a professional, Eloise," Cane spat.

"He saw the threat. He didn't call for a rescue; he called for an extermination."

Saul’s team didn't pour in with sirens; they seeped in like ink. Twelve men in black tactical gear, their movements disciplined and silent.

"Extraction point confirmed," a voice whispered, the signal bleeding into my phone’s speakers.

"Target 'Polaris' is in the loft. Secure her. Neutralize the apex predators with minimum noise. Use the sedative-laced silver."

Sedative-laced silver. This was a targeted hit. They knew exactly what they were hunting.

Downstairs, Vane was already a blur, moving fast and silently through the shadows. He was hunting. He moved through the spaces with a speed that defied the laws of physics, his blanket falling away to reveal a torso already beginning to ripple with a terrifying, hidden strength.

"Vane, wait!" I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the silence in the shop.

The ex-soldiers moved in a tight, professional way. I saw one strike the brickwork near Vane, and the impact didn't just crack the stone; it released a fine mist that made Vane recoil with a shrill of agony. The silver was airborne.

"Stay here!" Cane commanded. His eyes weren't brown anymore; they were glowing amber that seemed to burn through the dim morning light.

"Cane, don't!" I grabbed his arm, but it felt like clutching a moving piston.

"They brought the mist, Eloise. If I stay here, we will all breathe it. I have to break their line."

He didn't take the stairs. He vaulted over the railing, a seven-foot shadow falling from the sky. He landed silently, a predator in his element.

The soldiers were elite, trained for high-stakes warfare, but they were prepared for humans. They weren't prepared for the sheer strength of the pack. From the shadows of the repair bays, the rest of the pack emerged, spreading out and trapping their prey in a corner. Jax moved like a whirlwind, dodging a burst of shots and using a heavy engine block as a shield before swinging it with a force that sent two soldiers flying into the scrap heap.

The violence was quiet. There were no loud gunshots to alert the neighbors, only the sound of impacts and the occasional cry of a man who had been neutralized.

"Target is compromised!" Saul’s voice whispered from the entrance. His face had a look of cold professional focus.

"Gas the loft! Flush her out!"

A canister hissed near the stairs, releasing a thick, sweet-smelling fog. I covered my mouth with my shirt, my eyes stinging. Saul lunged forward, reaching for the loft stairs, his hand resting on the grip of a specialized tranquilizer pistol.

"Miss Thorne, move!" Saul called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

"These things have you cornered. We’re ending this now."

"They aren't things!"

I fought the urge to cough, stepping to the edge of the railing.

"Saul, call them off! You’re committing murder!"

Saul didn't listen. He began to climb, his movements calculated.

"You're under the influence of a concentrated pheromone, Eloise. It’s a biological defense. We're clearing the site and taking you to a recovery facility."

He never reached the top step.

Cane appeared behind him, a ghost of fur and fury. He didn't look like a man anymore. His spine was arched, his limbs lengthened, and his claws were out. Around us, the rest of the pack was taking the soldiers out one by one. Fast, quietly, and efficiently.

Saul spun around, raising his pistol, but he was too slow. Cane’s hand, massive and covered in dark hair, is gripping around Saul’s wrist. There was a sickening pop as the joint was crushed. Saul didn't scream; he was too well-trained for that. He simply gasped, his face turning the color of ash as Cane lifted him off the stairs by his throat.

"Cane, no!" I shouted, rushing down to meet them.

"If you kill him here, there’s no covering it up! The bodies... the blood...!"

Cane turned his head. His eyes were wide, burning with hunger. He wanted to tear Saul apart. He wanted to claim the life of the man who had dared to touch me. The rest of the pack had finished their work. The twelve "Special Ops" guys lay scattered across the floor. They were dead, brought down by the weight of the pack.

"He's a witness," Vane growled.

He was bleeding from a dozen silver-burned nicks, but he was standing over one of the soldiers.

"He saw the shift, Cane. He saw the truth. We can't let a witness walk."

"I'll handle him," I said, my voice shaking but holding a cold, Thorne-like authority.

I stepped between Cane and the gasping man in his grip.

"Cane, look at me. Look at Eloise."

The beast blinked. Slowly, the man began to return. The fur receded, the amber in his eyes cooled to a deep, tormented brown. He dropped Saul like a bag of trash.

Saul slumped against the stairs, clutching his shattered wrist. He looked at me, and for the first time, he didn't see a girl. He saw the predator I was becoming.

"You're protecting them," Saul wheezed.

"You're choosing the monsters."

"I'm choosing the truth, Saul," I said, leaning down.

"Now, here is what is going to happen. You’re going to drive back to my father and tell him the extraction was a failure because I wasn't there. Tell him I’ve moved."

"He already knows," Saul whispered.

Vane steps in and grabs Saul around his neck and snaps it.

“What the fuck, Vane!” I shouted, horrified by the scene.

“He wasn’t going to follow your plan, Eloise; he was going to come back with more bullets and more men! This is over!” Vane said coldly, and he walked away slowly.

I turned to Cane, who was shivering now, his body fighting the aftershocks of the shift. The garage was silent again, the only sound was the hiss of the dying gas canisters.

"Jax, get the cleaners," I ordered, feeling drowned and emotionless.

"Go home, Eloise! I think we're going to be closed for the day," Vane said as he limped into the distance.