Kai POV
The packhouse smells like an open grave—a sickening cocktail of charred flesh, shattered drywall, and the lingering, metallic taint of dark magic.
The core breach sirens have finally been silenced, leaving behind a ringing quiet broken only by the crunch of boots on broken glass and the low, pained groans of wounded warriors being treated in the makeshift clinic upstairs. I stand in the centre of the ruined grand foyer, staring at the splintered remains of the front doors. The night air blows freely through the gaping hole, carrying the chill of the approaching dawn.
Atlas is still pacing relentlessly in my mind, his hackles raised, the residual adrenaline of the fight making my blood hum. We repelled them. The hybrids are dead, the rogues scattered, and the pack is battered
