Semua Bab werewolves : Bab 31 - Bab 36

The fire at Tom and Leslie’s pit collapsed in on itself, a soft sigh of ash. Jake didn’t slow. The 1MXG rode tight against his chest; his face was all knife-edges and purpose.“Where is she?”Tom’s jaw set. “What? The werewolf? She ran.”“Don’t,” Leslie snapped, eyes wet and hard. “She left crying. She’s a child.”Jake’s voice thinned to a wire. “Which way?”Leslie pointed toward the army depot—low silhouettes of hangars and stacked ISO containers, the searchlights sweeping in cold, clockwork arcs. “There.”Tom added, almost offhand, “That plant lady went after her.”“Sara.” Jake’s mouth flattened.Kimberly folded her arms. “She’s been orbiting Jane since we arrived.”Leslie nodded, uneasy now that the pattern had a name. “Always close.”“Why?” Jake asked no one, already turning.Kim moved with him. “The cure,” she said. “She had one dose. Just one.”“So who was it for?” Jake asked.Kim shook her head. “Whoever mattered most to her.”Tom grumbled, “You two see monsters everywhere.”Le

Sara heard the boots before the voices. She dropped to a crouch, then sprang—easy as breath—onto the garrison wall, amber eyes skimming the depot below.“JANE! JANE!” Jake and Kimberly burst through the blasted doors, weapons up—then stalled at the carnage. Concrete smeared red. Limbs pitched like trash. A pendant glinted in a cone of light: two wolfsbane branches circling opposed helms.Kim knelt, lifted it. “Sara’s,” she said, voice flat. “Jane’s is the heart with the cross.” She tucked the pendant into her jacket. “We have to find her.”A barrel clattered somewhere in the dark.Behind a Bushmaster’s tire, Jane slept in a curl—small as a question. Kim touched her shoulder. Jane blinked up, lost. Jake’s voice softened. “Hey, beautiful. Come back with us?”“I’m not wanted. Your dad—”“Forget him. He’s an ass sometimes,” Jake said, and took her into a hug. “I promised.”They were almost past the courtyard when a mass dropped from the battlement and landed between them—brown fur, eyes b

Six Months LaterThe city breathed again.Sunlight spilled between towers of glass and steel, catching on tram lines and the chrome of morning traffic. In the parks, children shrieked at one another in the happy way children do. Baristas called names over steam. Sydney had resumed its ordinary heartbeat—eager to forget the nights when the world had felt carnivorous.Botany Cemetery sat on a low rise above the bay, quiet and salt-sweet. Wind came in off the water and moved the grass in long, soft strokes. Beneath the spreading arm of a gum, Jake Michaels crouched and set a small bundle of white carnations against a headstone’s base.“She would’ve loved these,” he said.Kimberly stood beside him, one hand resting beneath the curve of her belly, the other laced in his. A thin gold band flashed when the light found it. She was six months along now; the two of them wore the tired, tender calm of people who had survived the worst and chosen each other anyway.The stone was simple. It read, i