Chapter 74 The Centre Of It All
The sound wakes me before the fear from my nightmares does.
Rotors. Heavy. Close.
The walls hum with it, a low, vibrating thunder that rattles the glass in my room. For a moment I think I’m dreaming, another memory bleeding into the present, but then voices echo down the hall, boots striking the floor in fast, purposeful steps.
Something is happening.
I swing my legs off the bed and pull the door open just as someone turns the corner.
I collide with a solid chest.
Darius’s hands catch my arms automatically, steadying me before I even realize I’ve stumbled. He’s already dressed for combat, dark gear, jacket half-zipped, expression carved into that hard, distant shape he wears when people are about to get hurt.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.
“There was another hybrid attack downtown,” he says. “Ten minutes ago.”
The words hit like ice water.
Another.
My pulse starts racing, my beast stirring beneath my skin like it recognizes the call before my mind does. I pull my arms out of his grasp.
“I’m coming,” I say.
“No,” Darius replies instantly.
I stare at him. “No?”
“You’re not cleared,” he says, stepping past me toward the stairs. “And you’re not trained.”
“I don’t need training,” I snap, following him. “You’ve seen what I can do.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not coming,” he shoots back. “You’re unstable.”
The word slices clean and precise.
I stop at the top of the stairs. “Unstable?”
He turns, frustration flashing across his face. “This isn’t a debate, Lyra.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“You’re under my protection,” he says, his voice dropping. “And I forbid it.”
Forbid.
Something inside me snaps.
I don’t answer him. I don’t argue. I just turn and run.
Shouts echo behind me, my name, orders, boots pounding, but adrenaline carries me forward. I take the stairs two at a time, burst through the doors, and sprint toward the landing pad where the helicopter waits, blades slicing the night air into pieces.
Thane is already climbing in.
Vincent follows, checking his gear with calm efficiency.
Darius appears seconds later, fury etched into every line of his face.
“Get out,” he orders.
I don’t slow down.
I climb into the helicopter and strap myself in just as it lifts off the ground.
Darius swears under his breath and follows, grabbing a headset as the door slides shut. The city drops away beneath us, lights blurring into streaks as we rise.
No one speaks for a moment.
Then Vincent turns toward me and pulls a gun from his holster.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asks, holding it out.
I look at it. Black. Heavy. Real.
“No,” I say.
Thane lets out a sharp laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Vincent doesn’t laugh. He presses the gun into my hand anyway. “You’re going to learn.”
Darius rounds on him. “Absolutely not.”
“We don’t have time,” Vincent says evenly. “And she’s already here.”
The helicopter begins its descent, the city rushing up to meet us. Smoke curls into the air below, sirens screaming through the streets.
When we land, chaos greets us.
People running. Shattered glass. The distant echo of roars, inhuman, distorted, wrong.
Vincent pulls me aside, away from the others.
“Safety off,” he says, guiding my hand. “Finger here. Don’t pull unless you mean it.”
My hands are shaking.
“Plant your feet,” he continues. “Aim center mass. Breathe out when you fire.”
I nod, forcing myself to focus, to anchor in his calm.
Darius appears again, his eyes blazing. “She follows me,” he says tightly. “I protect her.”
Thane stares at both of them like they’ve lost their minds.
“You’re joking, right?” he says. “She needs to cover us.”
Darius spins on him. “Absolutely not.”
Thane jerks his chin toward me. “Did you miss the part where she ripped those things apart last time?”
Silence snaps between them.
I tighten my grip on the gun.
The roar comes again, closer now.
Darius swears and finally looks at me, not like I’m fragile, not like I’m broken, but like I’m dangerous.
“Stay behind me,” he says. “Do not run ahead. Do not improvise.”
I nod once.
We move.
The street opens into a ruined intersection. Cars overturned. One storefront burning. And in the center of it.
Hybrids.
Twisted shapes of muscle and metal and something else that makes my skin crawl. Their movements are jerky, unnatural, eyes glowing with a hunger that isn’t theirs.
My beast surges, pressing against my ribs, demanding release.
“Cover fire,” Vincent says.
I raise the gun.
My first shot goes wide.
The recoil surprises me, jolting up my arm. I adjust, breathe out like Vincent said, and fire again.
This time, it hits.
The hybrid staggers.
Thane whoops. “That’s it!”
The fight explodes into motion.
Darius moves like a storm,fast, brutal, precise. Vincent and Thane flank him, shots ringing out, blades flashing. I stay where they told me, back against a car, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear free. The other blood guards shift and attack the hybrids while the others cover their blind spots with their guns .
The street feels wrong the moment we step deeper into the zone.
Not just damaged,prepared.
The air is thicker, heavier, as if something has pressed its palm over the city and decided to squeeze. The hybrids emerge slowly this time, not crashing through walls or lunging blindly. They move with intention. With spacing. With awareness of each other.
They’re bigger.
Broader shoulders. Longer limbs. Their eyes track us in unison, heads tilting at the same angle like predators testing the wind.
“Something’s off,” Vincent mutters.
My pulse spikes. My beast stirs, and then stalls.
I try to shift.
Nothing happens.
Panic slams into my chest.
I focus. Breathe. Let go.
Still nothing.
My skin prickles, heat building beneath it, but the change doesn’t come. It’s like hitting an invisible wall inside myself.
“Lyra,” Darius says sharply without looking back, “stay close.”
I nod even though my throat has gone tight.
The first hybrid charges.
Gunfire erupts.
I lift the weapon Vincent gave me and fire, hands steadier than they should be. The recoil no longer surprises me. I hit one in the torso. It barely slows.
“Center mass isn’t enough!” Thane shouts.
Another hybrid barrels forward. Then another.
They’re coordinated,two distract, one flanks. They herd instead of scatter. My stomach drops as I realize it.
This isn’t random.
This is strategy.
I fire again. And again. My shots land, but it’s like throwing stones at a tide.
“Shift,” Darius snaps over his shoulder.
“I…I ” My voice breaks. “I can’t.”
He turns, eyes flashing. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m trying,” I say, terror creeping in. “I’m trying.”
A hybrid lunges toward us and Darius moves instinctively, shoving me back. He takes the hit meant for me, slamming into the creature with brutal force.
“Cover!” Vincent yells.
I fire, backing up, heart pounding so loud it drowns out everything else.
Darius doesn’t hesitate.
He shifts.
Bones crack,not grotesquely, but powerfully,his form expanding, reshaping, fur ripping through fabric as his direwolf bursts into the open street. Massive. Silver-black. A living weapon.
He tears into the first hybrid with ferocity that steals my breath. The creature doesn’t even have time to scream before it’s down.
But I see it.
The second one.
It comes from the side.
Too fast.
“DARIUS!” I scream.
He turns,but not fast enough.
The hybrid leaps and clamps down on his shoulder, teeth sinking deep. Darius roars, the sound ripping through the street, raw and furious and pained.
Something inside me finally shatters.
The wall breaks.
My beast explodes free.
The shift hits like lightning,no thought, no control, just instinct and rage and terror all crashing together. I feel myself become larger, stronger, faster, my claws tearing into the pavement as I launch myself forward.
I don’t remember every movement.
Only fragments.
The weight of bodies under my claws.
The sound of tearing metal and stone.
The way the hybrids scatter when they realize they’ve lost control of the fight.
Some escape. I feel them run.
I don’t chase.
Because Darius is on the ground.
The world snaps back into focus as I shift again, the power draining from me too fast, too violently. Pain floods in where there hadn’t been any before,a sharp, burning line across my abdomen.
I look down.
Claw marks.
Deep.
My legs give out and I collapse beside him, the street spinning as adrenaline drains from my system.
Darius is trembling, breath coming in harsh, uneven pulls. Blood darkens the fur around his shoulder. His wolf form flickers, unstable.
“Darius,” I whisper.
He shifts back with a pained sound, human again, eyes unfocused for a second before they lock onto me.
His hands grab my face, firm but shaking, thumbs brushing my cheeks, my jaw, my temples.
“Look at me,” he says hoarsely. “Where are you hurt?”
“I..” I swallow. “I think I’m okay.”
His gaze drops, sharp and assessing, and he sees it.
“Your abdomen.”
I follow his eyes just as the wound seals itself, skin knitting together rapidly. The pain fades to a dull ache.
His breath shudders with relief and fury all at once.
“Don’t ever..” He cuts himself off, forehead dropping to mine.
We stay like that, foreheads pressed together, both of us panting, the world narrowing to breath and heat and the knowledge that we’re still alive.
Sirens close in.
The helicopter descends.
Hands pull us apart.
“Both of them,now!”
We’re rushed onto stretchers, lifted into the air. I’m shaking uncontrollably now, adrenaline crashing hard, teeth chattering as the night blurs overhead.
By the time we reach Council headquarters, my body has finished healing. The wound is gone, leaving only a faint soreness like a memory.
The doctors don’t care.
They poke, scan, test anyway, murmuring to each other in clipped voices while I sit on the edge of a medical bed, wrapped in a blanket that smells faintly of antiseptic.
Across the room, Darius lies unconscious, IV lines feeding into his arm, his shoulder heavily bandaged. The blood loss was significant,they said it calmly, like that made it less terrifying.
I don’t leave his side.
I barely notice when Council members begin to arrive,one after another, filling the room with tension and authority and sharp, assessing gazes.
Voices overlap.
“Multiple sites.”
“Confirmed sightings.”
“Same time frame.”
“Different territories.”
My stomach sinks.
Celeste who’s wearing a crimson coat steps forward, her eyes cold as they land on me.
“This isn’t coincidence,” she says.
I stiffen.
“Where you go,” another Councilor adds, “they appear.”
The words echo in the room.
I feel suddenly very small.
“That’s enough.”
Darius’s voice cuts through the noise like a blade.
He’s awake.
He struggles upright despite the doctors’ protests, fury radiating off him in waves.
“You will not speak about her like that,” he growls.
The Councilor scoffs. “Open your eyes, Darius. Attacks coordinated across territories, stronger hybrids, better tactics,and she’s at the center of it.”
“She is not a cause,” he snaps. “She is a target.”
Silence crashes down.
Darius’s jaw tightens. “And if you’re too blind to see that, then you have no business calling yourselves protectors of this city.”
No one speaks.
I stare at him, chest tight, something aching in a way that has nothing to do with wounds.
The Council members exchange looks, then retreat, tension unresolved but momentarily contained.
Darius exhales shakily and finally looks at me.
“You’re shaking,” he says quietly.
“So are you,” I reply.
For the first time since the fight, he allows himself to lean back, eyes closing briefly.
“I thought something happened to you ,” he admits.
My throat tightens. I thought I lost him to but my mouth stay shuts and I don’t say it.