CHAPTER 197: CHAPTER 197: FIRE AND FANGS

Lorraine’s POV

The heat inside the van was suffocating.

My throat burned from the smoke creeping through the cracks of the metal walls. Every breath tasted like ash and fear. The smell of gasoline was sharp, unmistakable, it coated the air thickly enough to choke us.

Felix’s panicked voice broke through the chaos first. "The van is on fire" he rasped, pressing his trembling hands against the metal walls. "They’re really going to burn us alive in here."

Varya cursed under her breath. Alistair’s jaw was tight, his eyes darting toward the thin slit of light between the van doors. Outside, muffled voices barked orders, followed by the metallic click of lighters.

"We need to leave," Felix said, voice cracking. He looked like he could barely keep still. "We can’t stay here! We’ll die in here!"

"If we leave now," Alistair said sharply, "we’ll walk straight into their midst. There’s no cover, no escape routes. We’ll be outnumbered thirty to one."

Felix spun toward him, eyes wide with terror. "The van is literally on fire, Alistair! Will you prefer to be burnt alive?!"

"Both options end with us dead," Alistair snapped.

"Enough!" Varya’s roar silenced them both. She turned toward me, eyes burning like wildfire, though her voice trembled with controlled rage. "We can’t waste time arguing. We either burn or fight. Choose."

I could hear the faint crackle outside. The heat against the metal grew hotter, sharper, biting against my skin even through the air.

It wouldn’t be long before the fire reached us.

My fists clenched so tightly I felt my nails cut into my palm. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless, angry, wild. She wanted out. She wanted to destroy. I could feel her claws dragging across my mind, whispering to be set free.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not unless there was absolutely no other way.

If I lost control now, if she came out here, there wouldn’t be anything left of me to pull her back.

"Felix is right," I said finally, my voice low but steady. "Better to have a fighting chance than to just sit here and burn."

Alistair’s gaze met mine, and he nodded once, grimly.

"Then we fight," Varya said.

Before anyone could say another word, she raised her boot and kicked the burning van door open. The blast of heat hit us like a physical force, the night outside was alive with firelight and chaos. Sparks flew past her hair as she stepped forward, her silhouette outlined by the blaze behind us.

And there they were, an army of Crimson Hunt soldiers, lined in formation, weapons gleaming, their red insignias catching the firelight. They were ready. They’d been waiting for us.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched.

Then one soldier screamed, "There they are!"

And everything erupted.

Varya was the first to move. She let out a snarl and lunged at the nearest soldier, her claws flashing like silver blades under the flames. The man didn’t even get a chance to raise his weapon before she tore through his throat.

"Stay close to me!" she barked over her shoulder, her voice drowned by the clash of steel and the screams that followed.

I turned to her side. "Do you have a dagger to spare?" I asked quickly.

Without hesitation, she tossed me both from her belt. "Take them. I think I’ll use my claws tonight." She then shot a sharp look at Felix. "Stay behind me. If you’re cornered, and I mean anytime you see a blade or claw coming for you, you scream my name. Got it?"

Felix nodded frantically.

And then there was no more time for talk.

The soldiers charged. The ground trembled under the weight of their boots. The air was filled with shouts, metal, fire, and the sound of death.

Alistair was already moving, silent, deadly. He slipped between soldiers like smoke, his movements sharp and efficient, his dagger finding gaps in armor as if he knew exactly where every heart beat.

Varya was something else entirely.

She was a storm. A beast unleashed.

Every swing of her arm sent blood spraying. Her eyes glowed bright amber, her fangs bared. She didn’t dodge, she tore through. I’d seen her fight before, but this was different. This was survival. This was rage.

Felix was trying his best to stay alive, ducking under blades, tripping over corpses, barely managing to avoid fatal blows. Every few seconds I’d see him stumble, then scramble up again, breathless, terrified, but alive.

As for me, I gripped both daggers tightly, the handles slick with blood and sweat. I slashed at anything that came close, steel cutting through flesh, feeling every vibration through my arms. Each kill sent another pulse of heat through my veins, another reminder that I wasn’t helpless. Not anymore.

But there were too many of them.

For every one that fell, three more took his place.

The ground was slick with blood. My muscles screamed. My vision blurred from smoke and exhaustion. I could hear Felix gasping somewhere behind me, could hear Varya’s growls turning ragged. Alistair was bleeding from a cut across his chest, his movements slowing.

We were losing.

Badly.

"Lorraine!" Varya’s voice rang out through the chaos. I turned just in time to see her get thrown back by a massive soldier, his claws sinking into her shoulder before she ripped free and slashed his throat open. She stumbled to her knees, panting, surrounded on all sides.

Alistair wasn’t far off, three soldiers were closing in on him.

And Felix, poor Felix, was on the ground, back against a fallen crate, eyes wide as a blade pressed against his throat.

I looked around us. The world burned.

And I knew.

This was it.

If I didn’t act now, we would die here.

My hands trembled as I drove a dagger into the last man lunging toward me, blood spraying across my face. I stared at the crimson pooling around my boots, the screams, the smoke, all of it fading into the sound of my heartbeat.

I didn’t have a choice anymore.

I had to let her out.

Even if it meant my death.

Astrid’s words echoed in my head, the more I use my powers, the faster my powers kill me.

Maybe she was right.

But I would rather die fighting than watch my friends burn.

I closed my eyes.

And let go.

I felt her stirring beneath my skin, ancient and wild, the pulse of the moon in my blood. My body trembled as I started to give her the reins, the shift clawing its way to the surface. My lungs filled with power, with fire, with.....

There was a sudden swish.

A sharp, clean sound sliced through the air. Then another. And another.

I opened my eyes.

One by one, the Crimson Hunt soldiers collapsed, throats slit, chests torn open, hearts ripped clean out before they even realized death had come for them.

Varya froze mid swing.

Alistair stumbled back in disbelief.

Felix looked up from the ground, trembling, eyes wide.

And there he was.

Standing in the middle of the carnage.

Kieran.

His entire body was drenched in blood, his shirt torn, his claws dripping red. His eyes glowed with that dangerous, burning hue, dark crimson, edged with black. His fangs were still bared, breath heavy, every muscle in his body coiled like a predator still on the hunt.

He looked like death itself.

And he was looking right at me.

For a moment, no one spoke.

No one moved.

The fire crackled behind us, painting the field in gold and red. The smoke curled around him like mist, and in that instant, he looked less like a prince, and more like the beast whispered about in every story.