CHAPTER 16: “Into the Lion’s Den”
1485 Words
Night fell heavy on New Echelon. The storm that had battered the city all day left the streets slick, every light doubled in reflection, every shadow stretched long. The ValeCorp tower loomed above it all, a monolith of black glass and steel, its peak lost in clouds. At its base, a courtyard of marble steps gleamed wet, guarded by men in black suits whose movements were too sharp, too disciplined to belong to ordinary security. Wolves disguised as executives. Vampires with their hunger wrapped in silk.
Aria watched from the back of a stolen sedan parked three blocks away, her pulse steady but fierce. The tower felt alive, a predator of its own, humming with power and arrogance. The closer she looked, the more it resembled a shrine—every line designed to inspire awe, to remind those who entered that they were stepping into the house of a god.
But gods bled. She was here to prove it.
Kellen tapped at the cracked console he had balanced on his lap, eyes flicking across code like a man playing piano. “North elevators are linked to biometric scans. South elevators are cleaner—still locked, but easier to ghost. Cameras cycle every seven-point-three seconds. Gives us a three-second blind spot at the loading dock.”
Vincent slid a fresh magazine into his weapon with a decisive click. “Three seconds is a lifetime if you move like you mean it.”
Aries studied the tower through binoculars, his expression unreadable. “Damaris will be inside. He won’t miss this chance to parade his untouchable fortress.”
Aria adjusted the cuff of her jacket. The hidden Vex crest pressed warm against her skin. “Then we make him choke on it.”
Dominic leaned close, his voice quiet but absolute. “Stay close to me. No heroics, no lone wolf stunts. You fall, this city falls with you.”
Her eyes cut to him, gold burning in the dark. “I’m not here to fall. I’m here to burn.”
---
They moved.
The van slid into the loading dock at the precise moment the cameras blinked. Vincent killed the lights, and they slipped out into shadow. Rain dripped from overhead pipes, pooling around their boots. The door to the service elevator loomed ahead, steel and sterile.
Kellen was already at the panel, fingers flying. Sparks hissed. The lock clicked.
“Welcome to ValeCorp,” he murmured.
The elevator shuddered as it rose, the hum of machinery loud in the silence. Aria’s hand brushed the grip of her blade at her hip, her reflection faint in the brushed steel doors. For a heartbeat, she saw not herself but Nova Quinn—bright, shallow, fake—and then the image warped, showing her as she truly was: predator, survivor, fire wrapped in flesh.
The doors opened on sub-level two.
The corridor stretched sleek and cold, lined with glass walls revealing offices where no one worked at this hour. But they weren’t empty. Wolves in dark suits paced like sentries. Their heads turned in unison as the elevator dinged.
Aria moved first.
Her blade flashed, catching the sterile light, sinking into the first guard’s throat before his gun could rise. Dominic was beside her, pistol barking once, twice, clean and efficient. Vincent barreled forward, smashing another guard’s face against the glass until it shattered, blood painting the surface like abstract art.
Kellen ducked behind a console, jamming the surveillance loop. “We’ve got three minutes before they realize the feed’s gone stale.”
Aries’s voice cut sharp. “Move.”
They sprinted down the corridor, boots pounding polished floor. Alarms began to wail in the distance, low and mournful.
“Sub-level four,” Kellen panted, dragging his console along. “That’s where the blood archives are.”
---
The stairwell echoed with pursuit. Aria could hear it—wolves in motion, heavy and fast, the scrape of claws hidden in shoes. Dominic slammed the door shut behind them, jamming it with a steel bar. “Won’t hold long,” he said.
“Doesn’t need to,” she replied.
Sub-level four hit them like a gut punch.
The air was colder, the walls darker. The hum of servers filled the space like the pulse of some mechanical heart. Racks of data cores stretched in rows, each one labeled with names. Wolves, hybrids, bloodlines. Entire histories trapped in glass and metal.
Aria stopped, breath catching. It wasn’t just storage. It was a graveyard.
She reached out, brushing one of the labels. A name she didn’t recognize stared back at her. Beneath it, the mark of fealty: sworn to Alric Damaris.
Rage flooded her veins.
“We burn it,” she whispered.
Kellen was already setting charges, his movements frantic but precise. “Fifteen minutes and this whole place goes dark.”
They didn’t have fifteen minutes.
The first wave hit hard. Wolves burst through the stairwell door, their suits tearing as they shifted mid-stride, claws flashing, eyes glowing in the sterile light.
Aria met them head-on. Her blade sank into the first, tore free, cut again. Blood sprayed hot across the servers, steaming on cold metal. Dominic’s pistol cracked, every shot a kill. Vincent roared as he swung his rifle like a club, bone crunching under the impact.
But there were too many.
One wolf lunged at Aria, teeth snapping for her throat. She twisted, driving her blade into its chest, but its momentum slammed her back into a server rack. The air whooshed from her lungs. The wolf’s breath was hot on her face.
Then Dominic was there, wrenching it off her, breaking its neck with a twist that echoed in the chamber.
He hauled her up, his hand gripping her wrist tight. “Stay with me,” he growled.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped back, yanking free.
---
The fight raged, metal and blood and fire. Kellen’s voice was a frantic drumbeat: “Charges armed! Ten minutes!”
More wolves poured in. Aria’s body screamed with exhaustion, but her mind burned brighter. She moved like lightning, every strike fueled by names—Jace, Lira, every hybrid who had fallen.
And then the room went still.
A new figure stepped through the smoke and blood, calm where the others had been savage. His suit was immaculate, his silver tie unmarked. His eyes gleamed with cold amusement.
Alric Damaris.
Aria froze, chest heaving. The air itself seemed to bow under his presence.
“Little wolf,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “You brought the storm to my door.”
Her blade trembled in her hand. Not with fear. With fury.
“You killed them,” she hissed.
His smile widened, cruel and perfect. “I culled them. Weak stock. Hybrids were never meant to survive. You’ve only delayed their inevitable extinction.”
“Then I’ll show you extinction,” she spat.
She lunged.
---
Their clash was fire against stone. Her blade met his claws, sparks flying in the server-lit dark. He moved with inhuman speed, each strike a blur, but she matched him, her body screaming and burning, every nerve alight.
Dominic was there, his pistol barking, but Damaris swatted the bullets aside like insects. Vincent charged, only to be flung across the room with a backhand that shattered ribs. Aries moved in, knife flashing, but Damaris caught his wrist mid-strike and twisted until bone cracked.
Aria roared, striking with everything she had. Her blade bit flesh. Damaris staggered, surprised. Blood welled at his side, black and smoking.
For the first time, his smile faltered.
“You’re not supposed to be this strong,” he hissed.
Aria’s eyes burned gold, her voice a growl. “I’m not supposed to be yours.”
---
Kellen shouted, “Thirty seconds! Get out!”
Damaris lunged again, faster, furious. His claws ripped across her side, pain exploding through her ribs. She gasped, vision blurring, but she didn’t fall. She drove her blade upward, catching him under the chin. Blood sprayed, hot and acrid.
The servers screamed as fire caught. Alarms wailed, red lights pulsing like a heartbeat.
“Now!” Dominic roared, dragging her toward the exit.
They ran, the world behind them collapsing into fire and smoke. Wolves howled, alarms shrieked, the building groaned like a dying god.
They burst into the night just as the sub-level detonated, fire roaring up through the tower’s veins. Glass shattered. Flames clawed the sky.
The ValeCorp shrine burned.
---
On the street, the crowd was already gathering, drawn by the fire. Faces turned upward, bathed in orange light. Aria stood in the rain, blood dripping down her side, breath ragged. Dominic’s hand was still on her arm, steadying her.
The tower crumbled piece by piece, and with it, Damaris’s illusion.
Aria lifted her head, staring into the flames.
“Not untouchable,” she whispered.
And the city heard.
---
- Writer
