Chapter 270

Brett’s Perspective

A heavier barrage of fire raked the truck. The guards were pissed. Sparks flew as bullets struck metal. Suddenly, the passenger gunner jolted, a muffled grunt escaping him. He almost dropped his rifle. The fabric over his right shoulder darkened rapidly with blood.

“Damn it! Lycotine rounds! Sneaky bastards!” he snarled, his voice tight with pain. That vile, wolf-specific ammunition designed to slow healing and cause agony.

He immediately tore a strip from his shirt, tying a tight tourniquet above the wound, but his face contorted in pain, his return fire becoming slow and clumsy.

The driver cursed, trying more erratic maneuvers, but with one gunner nearly out, the pressure skyrocketed. The SUVs closed in, even trying to flank us.

Despair washed back in.

Out of the frying pan, into a shooting gallery on wheels?

Then, a new sound. Engines, from the road ahead and to the side. Not one. At least two, approaching fast. Bright lights, coming straight for the firefight.

“Now who the hell is that?!” the driver sounded near his limit.

The new vehicles cut in at an angle, placing themselves between us and the pursuing guard SUVs. Windows rolled down, multiple muzzles appeared. But the first volley wasn’t aimed at our battered pickup.

A storm of lead engulfed the lead guard SUV. Shots slammed into its hood, tires, windows. The vehicle veered out of control, rolled, and crashed into a crumbling brick wall with a fiery explosion.

The other guard SUV slammed on its brakes, scrambling to turn and flee.

One of the new vehicles sped after it, guns blazing. The other executed a perfect slide, blocking the road in front of our pickup. Doors flew open. Figures leaped out, weapons raised, covering us but mostly aiming past us at whatever remained of the pursuit.

One figure ran to the side of our truck, shining a light into the bed, over our bloodied, shell-shocked faces. The beam lingered on me.

“My God… little Brett? Is that really you?” A vaguely familiar male voice. Someone from the Moonlight Pack patrols? I thought I recognized him.

I opened my mouth. No sound came out. I just nodded, all strength leaving me. The pistol clattered from my numb fingers onto the truck bed.

The man immediately barked into his radio, voice tight with excitement. “Confirmed! It’s Brett! Repeat, we have Brett! Need medical support on site! Engagement ongoing, Northern Sentinel personnel injured!”

Moonlight Pack. Our people. *Home.*

The wire inside me, stretched beyond breaking, finally snapped. Everything—the burning vehicle, the moving figures, the urgent shouts—began to swirl and blur. I heard Luka’s shuddering sigh of relief, Scarface’s weak groan, the Northern Sentinel driver explaining things to the newcomers.

Safe? It seemed so.

Darkness, warm and heavy, swept over me like a tide. My last conscious thought before it took me: *Saved.*

Aurora’s Perspective

I paced my bedroom like a wolf trapped in a gilded cage, my steps quick and heavy on the plush carpet, ignoring the expensive weave. Outside the window, the night was pitch black, occasional car lights slicing the edge of the distant woods like watchful eyes.

Every second was torture.

Still no word from Liam.

I tried to be the composed heir, the dutiful pack member. I failed. All I could do was wear a path in the rug, burning off the anxiety and helplessness that threatened to explode inside me.

My mind spiraled into worst-case scenarios, then I’d viciously yank it back, a cycle that left my temples throbbing. My phone screen darkened, then I’d wake it again, staring at the empty notifications.

Just as I was about to crack—to call Liam again, to get in my car and drive blindly toward that cursed industrial zone—

*Bang!*

My bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall.

I jumped, falling into a defensive stance, my heart lurching.

It was Mom. Lily.

She stood in the doorway, breathing slightly fast, as if she’d run upstairs. She still wore her daytime silk blouse and trousers, but her hair was slightly disheveled. Her impeccable makeup couldn’t hide the raw, intense emotion blazing in her eyes. Not anger. Not anxiety. It was a fierce, overwhelming… excitement.

Her gaze locked onto mine. Her lips trembled slightly, as if the word was too big to release.

Time seemed to freeze. I stared. She stared.

Then, she drew a deep breath. Her voice, clear and strong, vibrating with a profound relief, cut through all my churning thoughts:

“Aurora… we found him. We found Brett.”

The world went silent. All sound—my own heartbeat, the distant wind, the subtle creaks of the house—vanished. Only those words echoed, in her mouth, in my ears.

*Found him. Brett.*

Understanding didn’t come instantly. The shock left me standing there, stupidly. Then, the delayed, tsunami-wave of pure, undiluted joy crashed through the dam, flooding every part of me.

“What?” My voice was a dry rasp. “Mom… Mom? What did you say? Brett? He’s… where is he? Is he okay?” Questions tumbled out as I rushed to her, grabbing her arms, my fingers digging in, my eyes locked on her face, terrified I was hallucinating, terrified I’d miss a single clue this was a dream.

She gripped my hands in return, her palms warm and solid, transmitting undeniable reality. “He’s alive, Aurora, *alive*!” Her own voice caught, but held the hard edge of finality. “Patrol intercepted a firefight on the northern edge of the old industrial zone. They arrived… just in time. He’s hurt, but it’s not serious. He’s conscious. Jacob is leading the medical team there personally. There are two others with him, escapees, also injured. Northern Sentinel personnel were on site, involved in the extraction. One of theirs was shot.”

The information was too much to process all at once, but the words “*alive*” and “*found*” shone like the sun, burning away all the shadows. Alive. He was alive. Found.

“Oh, my God… Oh, my God…” I repeated the meaningless phrase, tears suddenly pouring down my face, not from sadness but from a relief so intense it was almost unbearable. I let go of her arms only to throw my own around her in a crushing hug.

I buried my face in the shoulder of her blouse, smelling her familiar perfume and the cool scent of night air. My body shook uncontrollably. How long had it been? Since I’d grown up, since I’d started trying to step out from under her wing, since I’d stopped being the daughter who needed comfort. All that distance, all that stubborn pride, evaporated. I was just a sister who’d gotten her brother back, a daughter needing her mother to confirm this wasn’t a dream.

Lily’s body stiffened for a heartbeat, surprised by the sudden intimacy. Then, her arms came around me tighter. One hand pressed firmly against my back, the other came up to cradle the back of my head, just as she had when I was a child with nightmares.

“Shhh… it’s alright now, my little wolf,” her voice murmured above me, softer than I’d heard in years. “He’s coming home. You did well, Aurora. You were the one who held onto the thread.”

I shook my head against her shoulder, tears soaking into the silk. “It wasn’t me… It was luck, everyone…” But the massive stone that had been crushing my chest was finally, finally gone.

We stood like that for a long moment, until my violent trembling subsided. I pulled back, wiping at my wet face, urgency returning. “Which hospital? Can I see him now?”

Lily released me, cupping my face, using her thumbs to wipe the tear tracks. Her eyes were back to their usual cool sharpness, but the warmth beneath was unmistakable. “Not yet, but soon. The medical team is stabilizing them on site. Then they’ll be brought directly to the city center hospital. It’s more secure, better equipped. The injured Northern Sentinel will be brought too—that’s a complication, but the debt must be acknowledged, and we need to know what happened.” She paused, holding my gaze. “Get yourself together. Calm down. Then come downstairs. We’re going to the hospital.”