The clang of steel and the growl of heavy machinery echoed through the unfinished walls of Bram, a fortress racing against a clock no one could see.
Workers in dust-caked gear shouted instructions over the noise as cranes swung beams into place and crews bolted concrete panels together. Even with the latest equipment, progress felt painfully slow.
For now, Bram stood wide open in two directions. Yoma range, the hilly region which connect to the center of the country.
Kai Voss walked the perimeter in silence, his gaze tracing every missing beam and exposed joint.
The Cravers wouldn’t wait.
Neither would the beasts.
“Mr. Chairman, good morning.”
Kai turned as the project manager jogged toward him, stress carved into every line of the man’s face.
“Just keep at it,” Kai said with a small nod. “I’m only observing.”
The manager nodded quickly and hurried back into the chaos of machinery and shouting voices.
Kai remained where he was, studying the half-built wall.
They needed months.
He wasn’t sure they even had weeks.
The low growl of an armored vehicle cut through his thoughts. It rolled across the dirt and stopped beside him, its engine idling like a restless animal.
“Why are you moping around out here?” a familiar voice called.
Kai didn’t look up. “Just thinking.”
Ray stepped out of the vehicle, his coat shifting slightly in the wind. “Figured it’s time you had a talk with our little rebel.”
Leaning against the far side of the truck stood a young man—lean, tense, and watching everything with sharp suspicion.
Rhyvan.
The werewolf leader whose defiance had already caused more than a few problems.
Kai scanned the construction site before nodding toward a quieter corner.
“Let’s talk over there.”
Ray followed. Rhyvan came after them, his jaw tight.
They stopped near a stack of cement bags, far enough from the noise that voices could drop.
Kai turned to face him.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Kid, you already know the stakes. What are your thoughts?”
“Don’t call me kid,” Rhyvan snapped. “My name is Rhyvan Kaelthorn.”
Kai lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
“Alright. Rhyvan, then.” He folded his arms. “Let me ask again. What do you think?”
Rhyvan hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
“You want honesty? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of this. Hell, I don’t even understand why you’re here.”
“You’ll understand when the time comes,” Kai said calmly. “For now, I need capable bodies. Scouts. Fast, quiet, adaptable.”
His gaze hardened.
“That means your pack.”
Rhyvan frowned. “You want us as scouts?”
“Not want,” Kai corrected. “Need.”
He gestured toward the distant mountain range barely visible beyond the construction cranes.
“The Yoma Mountains are our blind spot. If something breaches from that direction, Bram won’t last a night.”
Rhyvan studied him.
“You’re not afraid we’ll turn on you?”
“You’ll be chipped,” Kai replied flatly. “Like everyone else. Betrayal won’t get you far.”
His tone didn’t change.
“But play fair, and we’ll fight beside you.”
The quiet certainty in his voice carried more weight than any threat.
Rhyvan felt it immediately.
Cold.
This man meant every word.
“You don’t trust us,” he said slowly. “So how can I trust you?”
“I’m not asking for trust.”
Kai met his eyes without blinking.
“Just cooperation.”
A gust of wind lifted dust across the ground.
“I’ll protect this town with or without your help,” Kai continued. “But with it, your people get a future.”
He extended his hand.
Rhyvan stared at it.
Every instinct in his body told him to walk away.
His fists tightened. Nails bit into his palms until drops of blood darkened the dust.
After a moment, Kai slowly lowered his hand.
“This deal isn’t fair,” he said quietly. “Life isn’t.”
His eyes remained steady.
“I could kill you right now. Pass leadership to Syth. Move on.”
A brief pause.
“What would you do in my place?”
Rhyvan said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Kai turned away and glanced at Ray.
“We’re done here.”
He didn’t hate the kid.
But this wasn’t a world where kindness survived for long.
Elsewhere in Cifad — Ba Clan Residence
The room reeked of blood and rot.
Denzai Ba lay half-conscious on the floor, surrounded by corpses, splintered furniture, and twisted limbs. Every breath tasted of iron. His fingers clawed at the slick ground, trying to push himself upright.
Somewhere deep in the haze of pain and fear, he thought of his wife. His daughter. Were they safe?
A soft voice cut through the fog.
“Hello… Head. Are you all, right?”
His eyes cracked open.
A figure stood framed in the ruined doorway, backlit by fractured daylight. Red hair. Fair skin. Eyes glowing faintly blue, but tinged with something deeper—almost crimson.
“La… Yate?” he rasped.
She stepped closer. Familiar, yet transformed. Taller. Stronger. Every movement carried a weight of control he hadn’t seen before. The quiet girl who once hovered behind her mother was gone.
“Yes. It’s me,” she said. Her voice steady, calm, but carrying an edge that made Denzai instinctively tense.
“My family…?” he croaked; voice barely audible.
“They’re safe,” La Yate replied softly. “I saw them. The TCF rescued the civilians. Your wife and daughter—they’re alive.”
Denzai exhaled, the pressure in his chest loosening just enough for fatigue to claim him. Limbs finally went limp.
As he slipped back toward unconsciousness, La Yate knelt beside him. Her face remained unreadable, mask-like. She hadn’t lied.
But the truth weighed differently on her. Something stirred within—an unfamiliar hunger, a power that made her pulse quicken. Messy thoughts flashed through her mind like mirages: instinctive, dangerous, barely restrained.
She glanced down at Denzai, then up the stairs left behind her uncle step by step. Her thoughts coiled tight. Could she go to them—her family—without losing control?
Could she still be the girl they knew? Could she still be La Yate? Or was that version of herself already gone?
She closed her eyes, chest tightening, whispering barely audibly.
“Not yet.”
