Chapter 184 Chapter 184

Chapter 184 Chapter 184
Merrick
The scent of burning cedar and wet slate hits my nose long before we break through the spatial wards at the tree line.
I stop and inhale deeply.
We are home.
“Waxing sentimental, Merrick?” Julian asks.
I smile and nod. “I’m surprised we made it out alive. I thought for sure they would have fortified that town much better.”
The vampire shrugs. “Window dressing is all it was.”
“Yeah,” I reply with a sigh and start to walk without looking back.
Julian and I trek up the muddy mountain tracks, our boots churning through the slush that the afternoon sun has turned to gray soup. Behind us, the valley sits in a tense, unnatural quiet. 
We left three Cabal armoured vehicles in Haven's Crest with their engines smashed, their signal jammers torn off the light poles and crushed into scrap metal. A dozen militia enforcers lie scattered throughout the town, torn to shreds by Enoch, the rest drained dry by Julian.
It will only buy us some time. As soon as the Cabal finds out, they’ll send a bigger force. More soldiers, more weapons. Deadlier weapons.
"I must admit, smashing those high-frequency jammers was surprisingly therapeutic," Julian’s deep voice cuts through my thoughts. 
He wipes a faint, dried streak of blood from his cuff with a lace handkerchief. "Though the mayor's personal wine collection was an utter tragedy. A ninety-eight Cabernet stored near a hot water heater? Absolute criminal negligence."
"Focus, Julian," I rumble, as I scan the battlements of our while we step into the open courtyard.
The palace is buzzing. The elementals have sealed the main roof with blue ward-fire, Gary’s human technicians are finishing the last acrylic window pane, and Clyde is currently using his megaphone to direct two warriors carrying a massive iron brazier toward the upper residential wing.
Nathaniel is waiting for us near the grand archway, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his blue eyes instantly taking in the blood spattered across my coat and Julian’s smug, satisfied smirk.
"You cleared the town," Nathaniel states, it being more of a fact than a question.
"We broke their blockade and crushed their signal jammers," I answer, unbuckling my mud-caked glove and yanking it off. "The innocent humans in Haven's Crest can speak to each other again. But it’s temporary. We need to fortify the town before the Cabal finds out what we did."
"Oliver!" I bark across the courtyard.
The Beta drops a crate of iron bolts he’s holding and jogs over, pulling a notebook from his pocket. "Sire? You're back early. Did you find their command post?"
"Not so much a command post as an outpost," Julian chimes in, adjusting his lapels. "But we did find their operational maps. It appears our dear friend Lysander isn't just hiding in the high passes eating snow. He’s consolidating."
I lean over the stone table near the archway, dipping my finger in the melting slush to draw a quick, rough sketch of the valley floor.
"The Cabal isn't planning a frontal assault on these walls," I tell Nathaniel and Oliver, my voice dropping into a low, iron register. "They know they can't break our spatial wards without taking massive losses. They put up signal jammers in Haven's Crest.”
“To isolate the humans,” Lexington says and comes walking up to us. “They’re doing it in every town.
I shake my head. “Not here. They weren't meant to just isolate the town - they were setting up a perimeter grid."
Nathaniel leans down, his sharp eyes following my finger on the stone. "A grid for what?"
"A mass shadow siphon," Julian answers, his playful demeanor vanishing into a cold, lethal stillness. "They're gathering their corrupted packs and their remaining shadow walkers at the old iron mines three miles south of the ridge. They intend to construct a massive, static shadow well."
Oliver’s breath hitches. "A shadow well? That takes immense magical power. They’d need-"
"A human catalyst," I growl, my claws digging into the stone edge until the granite cracks beneath my palm. "They're rounding up humans from the outlying farming communities under the guise of 'curfew violations.' Lysander is planning to use their life force to power a permanent shadow-bridge straight into the heart of our lower vaults, bypassing our perimeter wards entirely."
“And dumping us in the shadow wells.” Nathaniel’s jaw locks, his aura giving a subtle, dangerous flare beneath his skin. "When?"
"Who knows," I say flatly. "Three, maybe four weeks?"
The timing hits me right in the gut like a physical blow.
Four weeks. Right when Jo hits her due date. Right when our daughter is supposed to arrive. Lysander isn't just trying to retake the world from the awakened, he’s timing his strike for the exact moment my Queen is at her most vulnerable, when her body is bringing our child into the world.
And he will use her. An Ultima-Lycan hybrid will hum with magical energy. She’ll be perfect for Lysander’s shadow well.
"Merrick?"
The soft, warm voice carries down from the upper balcony, cutting straight through the tense silence around the table.
I look up instantly. Jo is standing at the carved stone railing, wrapped in my oversized grey sweater, her hands resting over her round bump. Beside her, Calla is watching us with a sharp, protective gaze. 
Jo looks rested, her face flushed with a healthy, golden warmth, her eyes fixed on me with that quiet, unshakable trust that grounds the wild, bloodthirsty beast raging inside me.
Enoch lets out a long, low purr deep in my skull, the territorial tension in my shoulders easing just enough for me to breathe.
"Stay here," I tell Nathaniel and Oliver. "Map the mines. Find every entry tunnel, every shadow pocket, and every guard rotation. We aren't letting them finish that shadow well."
"Understood, Sire," Oliver nods, pulling out his pencil.
“Send guards and magic casters to Haven’s Crest. Lock that place down tighter than a doll’s asshole.”
I turn away from the table, taking the grand stone stairs three at a time, my boots echoing heavily through the high archways until I reach the upper balcony.
The second I’m within reach, Jo steps right into my space, wrapping her arms around my waist, burying her face against my bare neck despite the cold mud and faint smell of blood still clinging to my coat.
I wrap my massive arms tight around her, pulling her flush against my chest, my hand coming to rest flat over our daughter's energetic tumbling.
"You smell like trouble," Jo murmurs into my skin, her breath warm against my collarbone.
"I brought back answers, sweet girl," I whisper into her hair, pressing a firm, deep kiss to the crown of her head. "And we have a town to take before our daughter gets here."