57

Chiara and I shifted effortlessly, slipping into the dense woods behind Carlo’s house. My wolf, Blue, was restless, itching to run, her energy mirroring the anxiety clawing at my mind. I wasn’t made for fighting-my strengths lay elsewhere-but I could help with evacuations. I just needed to know my mom was safe. That was all that mattered.
Our paws pounded against the dry earth, snapping twigs and rustling leaves beneath us. My lungs burned with every breath, but I pushed forward, ignoring the ache in my legs. No matter how tired I was, I wouldn’t stop. Branches whipped at my fur, but their sting was like velvet against my thick coat-nothing I couldn’t endure.
“This way,” Chiara’s voice echoed through the mind link, sharp and urgent. I saw her dart toward the edge of the forest, slipping behind a building.
We shifted back to human form as soon as we reached cover, the warm air brushing against our bare skin. Despite growing up in a pack where nudity was the norm, I’d never fully adjusted. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I shoved the feeling aside. There were bigger things to worry about.
“Here,” Chiara whispered with a grin as she rummaged behind a trash bin and pulled out a worn book bag.
“We used to ditch school and shift out here,” she explained with a mischievous smile. “We stashed clothes just in case we needed them.”
I reached inside the bag and cringed at the faint scent of garbage clinging to the clothes.
“They’re not great,” Chiara admitted with a shrug, “and they’ll probably be too tight, but it beats running around naked.”
I nodded in agreement, pulling out a t-shirt that looked small enough to fit a child. It clung to my skin, making me feel like a sausage stuffed into a casing, but at least it kept me covered. Thankfully, the leggings were stretchy enough to fit, though they weren’t much better. Chiara wasn’t faring any better-her clothes smelled just as bad, and she tugged at the hem of her shirt with a grimace.
“I’m taking the longest shower of my life when this is over,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Same,” I agreed, though a shower was the least of my concerns. I just wanted this nightmare to end.
We crept through the silent streets, sticking to the shadows. When we reached Chiara’s house, she shot me a quick glance before bolting up the porch steps and pushing the door open.
I stayed outside, shifting my weight impatiently from one foot to the other. Part of me wanted to keep going without her, but fear rooted me in place.
A moment later, Chiara came back, her expression tight. “My brothers are out there,” she said quietly. “I know they’ll be fine, but… it’s hard not to worry.”
“I get it,” I replied, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m worried too.”
We resumed running, but this time the sounds of snarling wolves and tearing flesh reached us. The battle was in full swing.
We ducked behind another building, peeking around the corner at the chaos unfolding before us. Blood soaked the ground, staining fur and bodies alike. It was impossible to tell who was rogue and who wasn’t. My stomach clenched at the sight of lifeless wolves scattered across the battlefield.
Carlo’s father had been right-there were “hundreds” of rogues. They were easy to spot, their filthy fur caked with blood and grime. Rogues lived wild, feeding on whatever they could catch, often staying in their animal forms for days. They stank of decay, a nauseating blend of rot and stale flesh.
I spotted Carlo in the middle of it all, his onyx fur shimmering under the relentless sun. He tore through the rogues with precision, his every move powerful and calculated. His coat glistened like molten black gemstone, casting radiant streaks across the battlefield.
This wasn’t the kind of war I’d imagined. There was no order, no clear divide between sides. It was chaos-pure, violent chaos. Furniture lay shattered and scattered across the streets, trampled by rogue and wolf alike. All I could see was a blur of fur and teeth, each side fighting desperately for survival.
“We need to cross,” Chiara whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise.
No one paid attention to us-two teenage girls creeping along the edge of the fight. Everyone was too focused on staying alive.
The door to the preschool across the street was unlocked. We slipped inside, our hearts pounding as we took in the scene before us. Children huddled beneath desks, their small bodies trembling with fear. The teachers and staff stood by the windows, helplessly watching the fight unfold outside. Their faces were pale with fear, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on them.
“We did what we could,” one teacher said shakily, “but we won’t last long if they breach the building.”
“We crossed the street without being seen,” I assured her, though I wasn’t sure how much comfort that offered. “They’re focused on the fight, not us.”
“Not yet,” Chiara muttered under her breath, earning an elbow from me.
“We can’t risk the kids,” another teacher said, adjusting her glasses with trembling hands.
“Do you have a back door?” I asked, scanning the room for an escape route.
An older staff member nodded, her expression steely. “Through the backyard,” she confirmed, her tone calm despite the fear in her eyes.
For a moment, I hesitated. I wasn’t good in emergencies. My instincts were broken-flight or fight didn’t apply to me. I froze when danger hit, just as I had the day my dad and I encountered a bear. All I’d managed to do was fall backward when it growled.
“The backyards,” I whispered, the words forming into a plan.
I turned to the teachers. “You need to take the kids through the back door. Go through the backyards and don’t stop.”
“They’re terrified,” one teacher whispered, glancing down at the whimpering children.
I crouched to their level, forcing my voice to remain calm. “I have a message from the future Alpha,” I said gently. “He needs you all to be really brave right now. Can you do that?”
Some of the children wiped their eyes and gave small nods. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
“We need to sneak out, really quietly,” I whispered. “Do you think you can manage that?”
A few more nods followed, hesitant but determined.
Chiara took over. “Everyone stand up and hold hands,” she instructed, her voice steady.
I shot her a grateful look as my heart pounded in my chest. I prayed to the Moon Goddess that we weren’t making a terrible mistake.
“I’m going with them to make sure they get to safety,” Chiara said, her expression set.
“Your brothers-” I started.
“They’ll be fine. If they can’t survive this, there’s nothing I can do for them,” she said grimly.
“I’m staying,” I replied. “I have to find my mom.”
“Ella…” Chiara’s voice softened. “Carlo will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll keep my phone on,” I promised, though fear gnawed at me. “If I don’t call… you’ll know what happened.”
Chiara pulled me into a quick hug, her worry clear. “Make sure Carlo doesn’t murder me when this is over.”
“I’ll try,” I chuckled weakly. “Sofia would love to get her hands on your shoes.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Chiara grumbled, ushering the children toward the back door.
As I stood alone in the empty daycare, fear threatened to consume me. My hand twitched, yearning for the comfort of the worn book my dad had given me-a small anchor in the storm.
I wasn’t brave. I never had been. But somehow, I had to find the courage to see this through.