The glass door separating the captives from their captors slid open with a soft hiss. Billy stepped forward, his presence radiating an almost casual authority that belied the situation.
"When your name is called, step forward," he announced, his voice carrying a deceptive evenness.
He stepped off the bus, gesturing vaguely towards the scene before them. Rows upon rows of identical coach buses stretched out across the dimly lit clearing, each a temporary cage. In front of this fleet of transport loomed a counsel mansion, its dark silhouette against the night sky imposing and unwelcoming.
Carly, a figure radiating an unnerving composure despite her apparent youth, stood at the front of the doorway. A sleek tablet glowed in her hands as she began to read, her voice clear and efficient.
"Jim Pearson, Monica Myers, Dylan Spree, Joanne Turner, Lily Phillips."
A tense silence followed the recitation of each name. From the depths of the various buses, figures emerged hesitantly, blinking in the unfamiliar light. Even though these defectives had been collected from the same general area, a palpable sense of unease rippled through the group. Not all belonged to the same pack, the same territory, their loyalties and fears potentially clashing in this forced proximity.
As each named individual stood before her, Carly made a swift assessment. "Ghost Moon pack. These ones are yours." Her tone was dismissive, a mere logistical update before moving onto the next group.
The process continued, the names and destinations blurring into a monotonous drone until she reached a designation that seemed to catch in her throat, a pack known in her territory as the Warwolf pack – the translation into English clumsy and inadequate.
A raw, desperate scream tore through the night air. A man in his forties, his face contorted with terror and rage, thrashed against unseen restraints within one of the buses.
"Just kill me! I can't go back. They'll kill all of us if we go. They massacred our families!" Joseph Myers. Carly's fingers flicked across her tablet, bringing up his image. Russian packs. She understood the depth of his fear, the validity of his panic. The purges in Russia and surrounding territories had been brutal, a death sentence for being defective. Flight had been the only option for many.
"I'm aware of your hesitancy to return," Carly stated, her voice devoid of sympathy but surprisingly level. "The Moon Blessed pack has agreed to take you in. It is a pack within this territory. Or you may go to your home pack. The choice is yours."
The Moon Blessed pack. Known for their unusual tolerance towards defectives, a leniency often attributed to their beta having a defective daughter. It had fostered a degree of acceptance within their ranks. For these terrified individuals, it was undoubtedly the safer option. Carly knew she couldn't guarantee their survival if they were sent back to their ravaged home territories, lands outside her jurisdiction.
Marina, the packs Alpha, could technically overrule her. But Carly doubted she would. These wolves were, in essence, trespassers within her territory, their fate ultimately falling under her purview. Marina was sharp, but Carly didn't believe she was cruel, not after what these people had endured.
"Just let us go. I want to go back to my own home," Myers pleaded, his voice cracking, directed at the young woman who barely looked out of her teens. He felt a sickening wave of humiliation at his own desperation, groveling before someone so young.
Carly knew he wouldn't understand the larger implications. None of them truly grasped the precarious balance of power. The pack came first. As long as rogue elements were capturing defectives instead of eliminating them, the entire pack structure remained vulnerable.
"And maybe you will," she said, her gaze unwavering. "But for now, choose."
The cold finality in her voice ignited a spark of anger in Myers, quickly extinguished by a primal fear. Against any of these organized wolves, he was nothing. He had witnessed the unrestrained power of their kind, the sheer destructive force they could unleash.
"Moon Blessed," he whispered, the words barely audible, yet he knew they all heard him in the oppressive silence.
Carly nodded curtly as Myers was escorted towards a different bus. "Ryan Hut, Millie Smith, Joshua Wright, Trinity…" Her voice hitched slightly as she read the last name on her tablet: Carter. A Carter. A quick scan confirmed her lineage – daughter of the beta.
Clearing her throat, she continued with professional detachment. "Trinity Carter, Mackenzie Thomas, Jessica Dean."
From four different buses, more figures emerged, a small cluster forming near the center of the chaotic scene. It seemed the Moon Blessed pack's defectives were either widely dispersed or possessed an unusual degree of mobility.
Standing amidst the newly arrived, Ryan cradled Trinity tightly in his arms, her still form pressed against his chest. A knot of icy dread tightened in his gut. She hadn't woken. He could feel the faint thrum of her heartbeat, the shallow rise and fall of her breath, but the unnatural stillness terrified him. And the damned silver rope remained stubbornly in place.
His eyes darted around, hyper-aware of every detail. Some of the faces were familiar, from his own bus. Others were strangers. Then he saw her – a flash of vibrant blue hair in the dim light.
"Jess!"
His voice, strained with a mixture of relief and urgency, cut through the tense quiet. The small, almost childlike figure turned, her expression softening with recognition as she cautiously made her way towards him.
"Ryan? You're here too? What's going on? Who's that?" Her eyes flickered to the unconscious form in his arms, a flicker of concern crossing her face.
Unlike some, Ryan knew what they were. His family hadn't indulged in the cruel deception of letting defectives believe they were human. But right now, his own nature was secondary to the gnawing worry for his brother. They had fought alongside Grayson, a desperate, losing battle. The image of Grayson being subdued, his raw power rendered useless against the coordinated assault, replayed in his mind. Fear for Grayson warred with a growing unease for himself, for all of them.
He longed to explain, to articulate the terrifying reality of their situation, but the words felt inadequate, unbelievable. This was something you had to witness to truly comprehend. Instead, he gently shifted Trinity so Jess could see her face. Jess frowned, confusion clouding her features as she took in Trinity's unnatural slumber and the glint of silver binding her.
"You are all Moon Blessed pack as well. Please head to your respective bus," Carly announced, her voice brooking no argument.
Ryan found himself speaking before he could fully process the decision. He had heard Myers' desperate plea, and while it had been ignored, this felt different. This girl, Carly, didn't exude the same cold indifference as the men on the bus.
"My friend's injured," he stated, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "They wrapped her in silver rope. One of them attacked her. She hasn't woken up."
He watched as Carly, the young woman who had been so efficiently sorting them, moved through the crowd. An unspoken authority seemed to emanate from her, causing the other defectives to instinctively give her way. Her presence was undeniably significant.
A knot of tension coiled in Ryan's stomach as she drew closer. He could almost feel the weight of her gaze, an invisible pressure bearing down on him. He held Trinity tighter, a fiercely protective gesture.
Carly's brow furrowed as she took in the silver rope constricting the unconscious girl. Silver on a defective? Even with their heightened sensitivity, such measures seemed excessive. Her gaze flicked towards the bus they had emerged from.
Her eyes shifted, the hazel deepening into a startling, luminous brown, so bright it seemed to emanate its own light. She focused her gaze on Billy, her thoughts a direct, silent query.
Why did you bind her?
Looking over his shoulder, Ryan saw Billy's own eyes flare, the blue intensifying to an almost artificial, glassy brilliance.
"Precaution," was his clipped, mental reply.
Carly's gaze returned to Ryan, her eyes softening back to their normal brown. She studied Trinity, noting the rapid but steady pulse beneath her fingertips. She was alive. More than alive – physically fine. The silver, she surmised, was likely the cause of her continued unconsciousness, a potent sedative for their kind.
Deciding on a course of action, she gave a curt nod to the driver of Trinity's bus. A moment later, the silver ropes around Trinity's legs and torso slackened and fell away, leaving only the cuffs on her wrists.
Almost instantly, Trinity's eyes snapped open. Ryan tensed, his senses on high alert, but her gaze remained unfocused, her pupils a normal aqua. She was awake. The silver had indeed held her in a near-catatonic state. He hadn't known it could be so potent.
"Trin," Ryan breathed, a relieved smile spreading across his face as he tightened his hold.
Her gaze drifted around, landing on Jess with a flicker of confusion. Had everyone she knew been taken? The oppressive darkness of the surrounding forest pressed in on them, the towering trees a silent, watchful audience. In the distance, the gothic mansion loomed, a stark and unsettling focal point. She had no sense of how much time had passed since the attack.
It hadn't felt like normal sleep. She had been aware of movement, of muffled sounds, but an invisible weight had held her captive, her eyelids stubbornly sealed. Even now, a bone-deep exhaustion clung to her.
Carly watched the quiet reunion, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. Trinity Carter. The beta's daughter. Even in her weakened state, there was something different about her, a subtle resilience perhaps inherited from a powerful bloodline. Defective she might be, but her reaction to the silver had been unusually strong.
Ryan's hand cupped Trinity's cheek, his relief palpable. For a terrifying moment, he had feared the worst, the steady beat of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest offering only a fragile reassurance.
As if the lingering effects of the silver still clung to her, Trinity's eyelids fluttered closed again, her head nestled into the crook of Ryan's arm. She drifted back into an unnatural slumber.
Ryan kissed her temple, holding her close, a sliver of the crushing weight on his chest easing.