Nyx
The sirens wake me before the screams do. One moment, I am in the too-small room Kaelen calls “mine,” the next, red emergency lights pulse across the ceiling, the shrill wail of the alarm rattling through the walls.
Boots pound down the hallway, doors slam, orders are barked through radios clipped to tactical vests. Rogues. I sit up too fast, heart hammering. My body still aching from training. My muscles stiff, ribs tender, but my feet move before my head catches up.
From my window, I catch glimpses of the chaos. Claws raking across flesh, teeth snapping, the ground streaked with crimson. The rogues come in droves this time, desperate, starved things with madness gleaming in their eyes. Half-trained. Barely armed. That is what I am.
Realizing this, I decide to see if the door is
