All Chapters of The lost packs: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

*Zambie* “Missed me?” I saunter into the dimly lit cell, trying to project an air of indifference. But if I’m being brutally honest, there’s a flicker of anticipation sparking within me at the sight of her. Kattie looks up from her makeshift bed, her expression a mix of annoyance and something softer. “What do you think, Zombie? Has anyone ever missed your miserable ass?” “Ouch! It stings when you pretend to hate me like that. Just admit it… you like my visits too,” I tease, flashing her a playful grin, hoping to lighten the oppressive atmosphere that hangs between us. “Well, you’re kind of my only distraction,” she admits reluctantly, rolling her eyes as if the admission physically pains her. “But I’m still not sure if I prefer no human contact… or if you count as human.” I chuckle softly, her sarcasm a small comfort in this cold, unforgiving place. These past few weeks, since I started coming down here, I’ve been wrestling with strange dreams… vivid and haunting. They’re about

*Amber* I am scared we are all going to die. I mean, how are we going to escape? The prison is surrounded, and the soldiers are streaming in, shooting at everyone in sight with automatic rifles and silver tipped bullets, it is a massacre not a fight. “The back gate is our best chance; we have to try and fight our way out there,” Thorn says. Suddenly, Zombie grabs my arm. “The tunnel... the secret tunnel. We can use it to get to Tjeck. But we need to blow up the entrance after we are through.” “The secret tunnel?” I look at Thorn, who shrugs. “I’ve never heard of a secret tunnel.” “It’s old, very old. Maybe Kress never had time to tell Thorn... in time, you know,” Zombie says. Can we trust him? Do we have a choice? Not really. “Where is the tunnel, Zombie? We need everyone down there now, and we need some dynamite.” “I’ll get the dynamite; just get people moving,” Jeremy calls out, sprinting off, holding his head low. “This way.” Zombie is waving his arm for us to follow. Thor

*Amber* We are in the midst of a chaotic yet strangely organized evacuation, ushering everyone upstairs to the safety of the upper floors. Tjeck, ever the vigilant protector, is ensuring that every soul has a proper bed to rest in and access to a shower to wash off the grime of uncertainty that clings to us. His meticulous nature shines through as he has tripled the security measures… every corner of the building is now under watchful eyes, anticipating the possibility that Christopher might unleash his army upon us at any moment. Meanwhile, Zombie has already departed, retreating to his own pack house, just in case Christopher decides to turn against him. I’ve managed to steal a moment of solace in Tjeck's private room, where I’ve indulged in a long, hot shower that feels like a small act of rebellion against the chaos around us. The steam swirled around me, momentarily washing away not just the dirt but the weight of fear that has settled into my bones. Just as I pull on my clothe

A little earlier*Thorn* I sprint back through the tunnel, the cold air biting at my skin as fear races through my veins. The weight of the remote sits heavy in my pocket, the knowledge that it could be our only hope to seal off the entrance and protect my pack from the soldiers creeping ever closer. The rumble of chaos above fills my ears, and I push myself faster, my heart hammering with urgency. As I reach the spot where Jeremy and Zombie rigged the dynamite, I realize the remote is still dead. My hands shake as I pull it out, staring at the wires. “No, no, no!” I mutter under my breath. I check the connection to the fuse, and that’s when I see it… the wire has detached. Panic surges through me as I quickly reattach it, my fingers fumbling, adrenaline coursing through me like fire. The sounds of gunfire grow louder, and I can hear the soldiers shouting, their voices sharp and menacing. I glance back the way I came, weighing my options. If I run back into the tunnel, and I want t

*Amber* The soft cooing from the crib pulls me from the storm of thoughts swirling in my head. Adion is awake, his tiny hands reaching for the mobile spinning gently above him, a bright smile illuminating his cherubic face. I can’t help but smile back at him. “Hey there, little warrior,” I murmur, scooping him up into my arms. His laughter is like a balm, soothing the anxiety gnawing at my insides. Just as I settle into the rocking chair, the door creaks open. Tjeck steps in, his expression a mix of relief and concern. “Hey, Amber,” he says, almost hesitantly, as if he’s not sure what to expect. “Hi… How are you doing?” I ask, my heart warming at the sight of him, even amidst the chaos we’re facing. “Like really doing.” “Good. It’s been a tough year, but I am okay,” Tjeck replies, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual brooding demeanor. The way his eyes soften as he watches Adion is a reminder of the bond we share, the unspoken understanding that we’re both navigating this