Chapter 73 The Sliver Pack
The realization slammed into me so hard I sucked in a sharp breath. Before I could move, before I could even think, a metallic screech split the air. Steel shutters slammed down over the windows, one by one, fast, violent. The sound rang through the building like gunfire, the vibration traveling through the ground and up my bones. I spun just as the shutters dropped over the entrance behind me, sealing it shut with a final, resonant clang. The power cut.
The lights inside flickered once, twice, and went out entirely, plunging the orphanage into darkness broken only by the thin, gray light filtering through gaps in the shutters. My pulse roared in my ears.
“What the hell…” I started, but the words died in my throat.
The receptionist stepped forward, her heels clicking calmly against the tiled floor. Her face was eerily composed, eyes gleaming in the dim.
“You shouldn’t have come alone,” she said, voice smooth, almost gentle.
I backed away instinctively, my shoulders brushing the cold metal of the shuttered door. My wolf surged, pushing forward, heat flaring beneath my skin.
“But I suppose heirs never listen.”
The word hit harder than a blow. Heir?.
My vision sharpened instantly. Sounds flooded in, the creak of the building settling, the faint hum of something mechanical below us, the subtle shift of air as more bodies moved beyond my line of sight. , I wasn’t alone.
My nails lengthened before I could stop them, claws piercing through my gloves with a soft rip. Pain flared, distant and familiar, as my bones adjusted, muscles tightening, coiling with power. My pupils burned, the world snapping into brutal clarity.
“Stay back,” I warned, my voice roughening, vibrating with a growl that wasn’t entirely human, the receptionist didn’t flinch, Instead, she smiled.
The shadows moved.
From the side hallways, figures emerged, three, then four, shapes half-hidden by darkness. I caught flashes of eyes reflecting light, heard the soft scrape of boots, the controlled breathing of predators who knew exactly what they were doing.
I lunged.
The nearest one barely had time to react before my clawed hand slammed into his chest, sending him crashing into a wall. The impact reverberated through the building. Another rushed me from the left, I twisted, raking claws across his arm, felt flesh give.
But the space worked against me. The ceiling was too low. The walls are too close. My body strained, begging for a full shift that wouldn’t come. The wolf pushed harder, furious, trapped beneath my skin, and the backlash sent a spike of pain through my spine.
A sharp sting bit into my shoulder as something pierced my coat and skin. I cried out, staggering, my muscles seizing as weakness flooded my limbs. Not enough to knock me out, but enough to slow me down.
“Records room,” my wolf snarled. I didn’t hesitate.
I spun, sprinting down the corridor, boots slipping on the polished floor as shouts erupted behind me. A door loomed ahead, marked Archives. I threw my weight into it, bursting through just as something shattered against the wall beside my head.
Inside, the air was stale, thick with dust and paper. Rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, towering and silent witnesses. I slammed the door shut behind me, dragging a cabinet across it just as fists pounded from the other side.
My breath came fast and shallow. Find it.
I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was here.
My senses pulled me toward the far corner of the room, where a single cabinet stood apart from the others, no label, no dust, recently used, I ripped it open. Files spilled out, folders labeled with dates, names, numbers. My hands shook as I flipped through them, too many, too fast, until one caught my eye, no name.
Just a symbol embossed on the folder’s front, my heart stuttered.
A crest, clean lines. Interlocking shapes. A crescent slash cutting through the center.
The Silver Pack.
My breath left me in a rush, I’d seen and heard of it before, I knew I had.
The memory hovered just out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke, images flickering at the edge of my mind, a flash of silver light, a voice, a warning whispered in the dark. My head throbbed as I flipped the folder open.
Inside were records far more detailed than anything the receptionist had shown me earlier. Medical notes. Genetic markers. Dates I didn’t recognize.
Footsteps thundered outside the door, the pounding resumed, harder now.
“Open it,” someone barked. “Now.”
I slammed the folder shut, shoving it under my coat just as the cabinet I’d dragged toppled over. The door buckled inward, no time. I scanned the room desperately, and spotted a narrow service hatch behind the shelves. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, tearing it open and squeezing through just as the door burst apart. The crawlspace was tight, filthy, but it led downward. I crawled blindly, lungs burning, until I burst out into freezing air behind the building. In the parking lot, I ran.
Pain lanced through my shoulder with every step, silver burning, but adrenaline drowned it out. I fumbled for my keys, hands slick with blood and sweat, nearly sobbing when the door finally unlocked. I threw myself inside, slammed the door shut, and turned the engine over, It roared to life.
The tires screeched as I tore out of the lot, gravel spraying behind me. In the rearview mirror, figures spilled out of the building, their faces twisted with fury, but they were already too far behind, I didn’t slow down, I didn’t look back again.
The road blurred as I sped away, heart hammering, the weight of the stolen file heavy against my chest, The orphanage faded into the distance.