When fate and worlds collide

14 | Save the Children

Children screamed as debris rained down, parents and guardians clutching them close, murmuring useless reassurances. I stared at the nearest cluster, my face carefully blank while regret tugged hard at my chest. They were all going to die—and I wouldn’t even be able to shield the children. The pack outside outnumbered us. Even with me, the odds were laughable.

My gaze moved from face to face, cataloging expressions, tasting fear thick in the air. The switch inside me twitched—tempting, familiar—begging to be thrown so I could feel again. I ground my teeth and forced it back. If I let it loose now, everything I felt toward Glen and his wife would come flooding in tenfold. No one here would survive. I knew what had to be done. I’d promised my son I wouldn’t use it unless it was life or death. This was exactly that. And if I stood by and did nothing, I’d be no better than the monsters tearing the world apart outside. My eyes found Glen, his daughter, the woman clinging to his side. Leaving them behind would be easy. Satisfying, even. But it wouldn’t fix anything.

Many were looking at me now—desperate, hollow-eyed, clinging to a hope they knew was already dying. They had come so far only to fall this close to safety. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. He would forgive me. This was the right thing to do. In a world like ours, saving a life meant another body to fight back. Jax stumbled toward me, fear rolling off him in waves. I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose at the scent of it. His eyes were wide, wild.

“What do we do?” he asked, voice shaking. He asked that a lot—like he’d already decided I was in charge. He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last. Another impact rocked the building and he flinched, covering his head.

“I can save your children,” I replied quietly. His head shot up. Confusion and determination warred across his face.

“How?”

“Do you want them to live or not?” I snapped. A few nearby adults overheard and immediately began pushing children toward me.

“Please,” they begged. “Save them.” They needed something to fight for. Maybe this would be enough to get them through the horde.

“Listen,” I barked, my voice cutting through the chaos. Every eye locked onto me as the ceiling groaned again. “I can save your children—but only your children. What I’m about to do breaks everything you think you know about the world before the Fall.” The truth was, once the sky split open, everything we believed in died with it. Humans just hadn’t caught up yet.

“How?” Jax asked again, doubt threading through his fear.

“Like this.” I turned sharply, sweeping my hand through the air as I reached for the ancient, unnatural power coiled inside me. A swirling mass of purple and black tore open in front of me, reality folding in on itself. Gasps and yelps rippled through the group.

I looked back at Jax. “The only way your children survive is if they go through to the Tower.”

“The Tower?” he echoed.

“The place you’ve all been searching for. The Safe Haven. Protected from monsters and demons.” I explained flatly. He looked torn between terror and relief. “I can only send so many,” I continued. “The smaller they are, the easier it is to send more. But like I said, there’s always a limit.” I let my gaze sweep over the adults, silently daring them to argue, hoping they’d understand.

“Clarice, come here,” Jax called. His daughter approached cautiously, clutching the remains of her doll. Jax knelt and whispered in her ear, her big blue eyes never leaving me.

“How do we know they’ll be safe?” someone asked.

“You don’t,” I replied flatly. Murmurs swelled—fear sharpening into panic. “You can gamble on sending them somewhere they have a chance to live,” I continued, “or you can watch them die bloody and screaming right here. Your choice. I’m not forcing anyone through.” Jax stood, took Clarice’s hand, and stepped forward. She hugged her broken doll to her chest.

“There are people waiting on the other side,” I added more softly. “Good people. People who know how to take care of kids.” I watched as Jax knelt again, whispered something into her ear, then gently nudged her forward. The portal swallowed Clarice with a rush of air and a soft pop as she vanished. I felt her arrive—panic and fear rippling faintly back through the connection. I turned to the others. We didn’t have much time, and any children left behind would turn this into a slaughter, forcing the adults to die defending them.

Jax’s act of trust broke the dam. One by one, parents ushered their children forward, forming a small, shaky line. Some kids screamed and fought. Others were eerily quiet, their faces telling me they’d already seen worse than a reality-tearing portal. It still amazed me how quickly people trusted a stranger—especially when that trust was built on nothing more than desperation and the fact I’d saved two of their own. The line thinned. Glen and his daughter were only a few places from the end, the woman clinging to his arm looked ready to collapse. Glen stepped forward, his woman and child just behind him. I kept my face blank while my stomach twisted with rage.

“You helped us when you didn’t have to,” he praised. “I’d like to think I’d do the same if our roles were reversed.” Internally, I scoffed. Not if he knew who I really was. They continued their shuffle closer to the portal. Behind them, a woman cradled a five-month-old, one hand gripping her older child’s tightly. I couldn’t fathom why anyone thought having children during the apocalypse was a good idea. Humanity was dropping like flies, and people still insisted on breeding the next casualties. The mother bent to pass the baby to her daughter when raised voices cut through the air.

I glanced toward the portal and saw Glen and his wife arguing. Her face was flushed, hands gesturing wildly at the swirling void. I opened my mouth to stop it, when she shoved Glen aside and ran. Straight into the portal. My blood turned to ice. Pain lanced through my body as her sheer mass hit the portal’s threshold, draining power violently. My knees buckled, the impact jarring my body as I fought to keep the portal open. I hadn’t been prepared for the sudden shift—couldn’t compensate fast enough. The portal flickered, making a horrible sucking sound, clawing for more energy just to stay open. Glen grabbed his daughter, panic etched into his face, ready to send her through.

“Stop!” I shouted. He froze, torn between terror and regret. I slammed my hand against the concrete floor, the cold biting into my palm—grounding me, centering my focus as the portal shuddered and strained to hold. I could feel it draining me—blood slipping down my nose beneath my mask, warm and sticky, my hearing dulling until the world sounded like it was underwater. Each breath scraped through my chest, shallow and uneven. I forced myself to my feet, grabbed the girl holding the baby, and hauled her forward until she stood beside Glen’s daughter.

“Felix!” I screamed into the unstable portal, praying he could hear me. I didn’t have much time. “Three. One baby. Catch!” The scream tore out of me as I forced the portal to stabilize, hurling all three children into the swirling void. Something inside me tore—like the tendrils of power I was gripping had stretched past breaking point. The mother behind me wailed as I collapsed, slamming my palm into the floor while I ripped the portal shut. The resulting boom rattled my bones and shook the ground beneath my hands. Power rippled through my body, charging the air, warning me I would flame out if I didn’t rein this in. I’d kill everyone in the room.

“Doctor,” I rasped. The old man rushed to my side, fingers hovering over my arm like he was afraid to touch me. “Turlin. Lician. Prezamine. And… wolfsbane,” I forced out, listing the names through clenched teeth. Many would have no idea what those three foreign words were, but after glimpsing the herbs and medicines in his possession, I hoped he had basic knowledge of these otherworldly plants.

His eyes widened. “Yes, but—they’re extremely toxic. It could kill you.” He warned. I laughed weakly.

“If only.’“ I wheezed. “It’ll stabilize my powers. Crush them into a paste, then add a bit of water.” He hesitated, then nodded and dug through his bag. Jax knelt beside me, careful not to touch, his eyes scanning for physical wounds.

“What can I do to help?”

I sucked in a rasping breath. “Beating the s**t out of Glen would make this feel slightly more justified.” I rolled onto my side and yanked my mask up just long enough to cough, blood splattering the floor as my power surged wildly. Jax let out a strained chuckle.

“If you get us out of this alive,” he replied, “I’ll happily hold him while you do the beating.” I dragged my mask back down before he could see my face. He studied me, lips thinning. “Is it me… or Glen?” he asked quietly. I glanced at him before rolling onto my back, not answering. My focus was already splintering, my uncontrolled power stirring a primal beast I couldn’t afford to unleash. Shuffling footsteps sounded as the doctor appeared, holding a cup of dark purple liquid.

This, was going to hurt.

In small doses, wolfsbane would suppress the chaos inside me. Downside? Slower healing. Slower movement. A liability until I was back with my pack. I took the cup, turning my back on the group, and raised an eyebrow at Jax. He shook his head and looked away as I lifted my mask just enough to drink.

Fire spread through my veins, sharp and biting, before settling into an icy restraint, reigning my powers back. The beast inside me snarled—then retreated. I lay there for a moment, chest heaving, staring at the gray cracked ceiling. Dust rained down as the building shuddered again. I ran the math. There was no saving everyone. Too many Ferals. Too few fighters. And now, with my powers dulled, I was even less help than before.

I groaned and forced myself to my feet, keeping myself steady and eyes hard. Strength was half illusion, but illusion mattered. I faced the group, ignoring Glen’s guilt-ridden stare.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I spoke evenly. “This is going to be ugly. There are dozens of Ferals outside, and night’s coming fast.” A pause. Jax’s words from earlier cam back; they needed hope—not panic. “There’s a building across the street. Beneath it is a tunnel leading to the river. If we make it there, we have a chance of reaching the Tower.” The building shook again. A few people flinched.

“This chance is small,” I continued. “It’ll be bloody. And it’ll be a race for your lives. Stick together. Watch each other’s backs. That… just might be enough.” I could feel the wards weakening. The Ferals would breach soon—we needed to be clear of the lobby when they did. I made my way toward the metal door, my body screaming for rest, exhaustion and agony weighing me down. I was going to be wrecked tomorrow. If I even made it to tomorrow. This was the most idiotic decision I’d made in years.

I flung the door open and glanced back at Jax and Glen as they helped the elderly up, others shouldering packs and weapons.

What the f**k had I been thinking?

If I survived this, I deserved every ounce of punishment Alpha Liam had waiting for me.