The woman stared at her phone, scrolling mindlessly as she waited for the train to get to her station. She wasn’t really sure if it was a good idea to work today, given that today was apparently the day that werewolves were gonna go absolutely bonkers, according to that hunter guy on TV a couple days ago, but bills didn’t pay themselves, so really, her hands were tied. Besides, couldn’t she just… decide not to go bonkers? Maybe she was missing something - she never really made a point of keeping up with what was going on in the larger werewolf community - but in her experience, she’d never really had a problem keeping control of herself, even during a full moon. Shame about that direwolf girl getting caught by them, though. She could understand if a couple of people were going to fight back about that, at least. The hunters were bad business, even she knew that. The video of that direwolf going beast-mode on those soldier guys definitely painted werewolves in a bad light, but if you asked her, why were the soldier guys there in the first place? The girl was defending herself, that’s what she thought.

A sudden shock ran through her system, so startling it caused her to drop her phone, her whole body breaking out in a cold sweat despite the cool morning air. What was that? She felt… scared? In pain? But… There was nothing to be scared of right now, certainly not to that degree, at least, and nothing was hurting her. The feeling felt almost foreign, with that distant quality of words spoken over a phone call instead of face-to-face.

She could feel a shift coming on, itching at the base of her spine, tingling along her skin and aching her gums, but she resisted it, as always. Something to do with tonight’s full moon, perhaps? But, it had never been this intense before, and certainly not during the day. Or maybe… maybe what that hunter had said was true after all. Maybe she was about to go absolutely crazy.

Another feeling shot through her, though this time it was entirely her own. Pure, unadulterated fear. Something had happened, something was going on, and if she didn’t get out of this crowded train station right now, she had a feeling she was about to hurt a lot of people. She turned away from the tracks and made a bee-line for the exit, fighting against the incredible urge to shift that kept assaulting her senses. Most of her brain power was being used up on keeping fur from sprouting from her skin, but she still noticed the man a little ways away, seemingly in a similar state of struggle. They’d met before, just briefly, at a werewolf support group after everything went public. His eyes usually turned bright blue when he shifted. Right now, they were glowing a deep, bloody red.

Anger flared from her stomach, fiery and hot. Another werewolf, in her territory? How dare he? The aching need to shift had started burning, and she finally acquiesced and gave in, letting power flood through her body. She would need it to get this threat out of her hunting grounds. She became big and strong, her teeth and claws sharp like knives, protective fur covering every inch of skin. Prey started screaming all around her, enticing her, making her mouth water with anticipation, but she could not be distracted. There was a threat in her territory that had to be dealt with first.

She stalked towards him, growling a warning, but he did not back down, embracing his shift as well, becoming big and dangerous. They clashed, claws rending flesh and jaws breaking bone. His attacks were puny, weak against her new powerful form, but he was not backing down, undeterred by how many times she’d slashed his eyes out of his face. She grew enraged.

Blood. Blood under her claws. In her mouth. Coating her fur. Prey screaming, pleading, fleeing. Pain, hurt, healed. Threat distracted. Chasing prey. Her prey. Giving chase. Pouncing, biting, consuming. Blood, in her mouth. Meat. Food. More prey. Angry prey. Loud banging. Danger. Threat falling, not getting up. Blood in his fur. More loud banging. Pain. Pain pain pain hurting pain pain it hurts pai-

—

“You feel that?”

Roxy was sure that Pedro’s question had been rhetorical. Of course she could feel it, she’d been feeling it for the past hour, as Sam was no doubt endlessly tormented until the ritual began in earnest. The fear and pain through the mark had been her constant companions ever since Drew arrived back at the apartment. He’d left Sam behind during their escape, and now Roxy was complicit in leaving her there to suffer while knowing full well where she was. If they made it out of this alive, Roxy was fully prepared to throw herself on her own sword if it meant getting Sam’s forgiveness for what she’d done.

Pedro had a point, though. It was different now. Where before it had been simple feelings drifting through her body like ink in water, now it was an energy, crackling through the air around them, making Roxy’s hair rise on end and urging her to let her wolf out. She did her best to resist the feeling, not wanting her senses to get any stronger right now. This sewer smelled bad enough as it was. A quick glance behind her revealed what she’d already suspected; Pedro and Drew were struggling with the same thing, and, quite curiously, their eyes were glowing red. A quick check in the reflection of her phone screen showed her that her’s were too. A side effect of the ritual, no doubt.

“It’s begun, then,” Drew muttered in reply. “God, I… I can actually feel her fear… Is this what it’s like with the mark, Roxy?”

“This is worse,” she answered curtly.

They continued on in grim silence, walking single-file along the thin path between the wall and the flow of sewage. Roxy focused on the mark, paying attention to how far along Sam was in the ritual. The pain was steadily rising, along with the phantom urge to shift, to the point where she needed to hold her hand against the grimy wall to keep herself from stumbling with dizziness. She was pretty sure she could pinpoint the exact moment Sam was drugged; the sharp prick of pain from the needle followed by terrible anticipation. Then came the anger, like an inferno in Roxy’s gut. All-consuming, endless in its intensity, burning her from the inside out. She grunted and doubled over, only prevented from collapsing by Pedro’s steadying arm around her middle.

“You okay?” he asked.

“It’s starting,” she grunted. “The drug. She’s… She’s so angry. Can’t you feel it?”

“A little,” he replied, pulling her back to her feet. “Probably not as bad as you, by the looks of it.”

A sharp pain in her head had her stumbling again, followed by more that had her crying out. Sam’s anger was growing exponentially, and the incredible urge to shift was making it hard to breathe. Pedro grabbed her again, a grounding presence holding her close to his chest. His arms were bristling with fur as well.

“Take a deep breath,” he said. “Steady yourself. We can’t afford to stop now.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and focusing on staying calm. Thank god for the vaccine, or they would all be in the same boat as Sam right about now, filled with this horrible mindless rage, instead of just a phantom facsimile of it burning her up from the inside. Finally, the urge to shift dissipated, right as Sam’s anger was replaced with satisfaction. She must have gotten out of the ritual somehow. With any luck she killed the bastard that put her there. Roxy nodded again. “Alright, I’m good. Time to go.”

Now that the ritual was over, there was no time to waste. They rushed down the walkway as quickly as they dared, not wanting to slip and fall into the water. It didn’t take much longer to reach their destination; a long ladder, heading up out of the sewer and into the outpost, if Anne was to be believed.

“What a thrill…” Leif muttered quietly.

“This should be it,” Drew said. “If Anne was right, there should be a changing room up there where we can slip into some disguises.”

“Alright,” Pedro replied. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Drew? You only just got out, it can’t be easy going back in.”

Most of the nasty bruises he’d been bearing when he arrived back at the apartment had faded away by now, but Roxy couldn’t miss that familiar look of terror in his eyes at the thought; she’d seen it in the mirror more times than she could count. She hadn’t yet gotten a good look at his back, but from the furless patches she could see when he was in his wolf form, it wasn’t good.

Drew clenched his fists. “I already left her behind once, I won’t do it again.”

Pedro nodded. “Good man.” He took a deep breath. “Alright then. Let’s go save the world, shall we?”

All of a sudden, an incredible howl echoed down through the manhole, still somehow loud enough for Roxy to feel it reverberating in her bones. She let out a laugh, only just resisting the urge to howl back in reply.

“It’s Sam…”

Leif grinned. “Let’s go get her.”

—

The trip up the ladder thankfully only took about a minute, despite how long it had looked from the ground, and just as Drew had said, they emerged in what looked and smelled like a changing room. During their trip up, a series of discordant howls had echoed through the sewers, seemingly in response to Sam’s call. Hopefully it wouldn’t attract any unwanted visitors, but Roxy wouldn’t bet on it, knowing their luck.

“Alright,” Drew said. “Should be plenty of spare uniforms to change into here, just need to break open the lockers.”

They got to work, smashing open each locker one by one until they each found a uniform that fit. It wasn’t hard for the two men to find theirs, but Leif and Roxy had to look a little harder, most of the uniforms being too big to convincingly fit them. This searching paid off in a big way, though.

“Oh, score!” Leif said, rooting through one of the lockers.

“What’d you find?” Roxy asked, halfway through changing into her uniform. Mercifully, it smelled like it had been cleaned recently. The thought of putting on a hunter’s sweaty second-hand clothing was just too gross to comprehend, and that was coming from someone who just walked through a sewer.

Leif held out her discovery proudly. “Bulletproof vest! Who wants it?”

“You should keep it, Leif,” Pedro said. “You’re the only human, so you’ll be in more danger than us if you get shot.”

“Won’t argue with that,” the girl replied, pulling the vest on over her undershirt. She inspected the nametag on the locker. “Belongs to a… Lieutenant Watson, I believe. Hope they won’t mind!” She grinned.

It didn’t take long from there to finish their disguises, complete with caps to cover their eyes should they need the help of their wolves. Pedro had even managed to score a jacket with a captain’s rank insignia, which should certainly come in handy. They moved, stepping out into an empty hallway.

“Where is everyone?” Leif wondered out loud.

“Well, Anne did say there would only be a handful of guards left in the building,” Drew replied.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Pedro asked.

Drew looked around. “Uhh… This way, I think.” He pointed down a corridor, and they set off. It didn’t take long for them to run into a group of people, all huddled around the entrance to the stairway in what looked to be an attempt at a barricade. Not a very effective one, by Roxy’s estimation. One of the guards noticed them, eyes zeroing in on Pedro’s jacket. He immediately stiffened up, throwing a salute.

“Sir! We need orders!”

Pedro immediately fell into character while the rest of them hung back, Drew pulling his cap down to cover his face.

“What’s the situation?”

“W-we don’t know exactly what happened, but what we do know is that the direwolf is loose, and she is angry. She’s sticking to the second floor for now, but it’s only a matter of time before she comes looking for a meal down here, too. We sent Perkins up a while ago to scout, and he hasn’t come back yet. We have no silver bullets, anything we throw at her just bounces right off!”

At that moment, a man came stumbling around the corner of the stairwell, and Roxy knew it was already too late for him just from the smell of blood alone. He was covered in it head to toe, his right arm torn off a little ways below the shoulder. The wound was the furthest from clean a wound could get; the snapped end of his humerus extending out a little further than the dangling strands of grisly, ruined flesh around it. The moment he laid eyes on his allies, all of the fight left him and his body crumpled, rolling down the stairs to rest at the feet of the remaining hunters. Someone screamed as his heart gave its last few pathetic beats and went silent. He couldn’t have been any older than twenty.

“You should get out of here,” Pedro said, his voice low. “All of you. Run, and don’t look back. This is her hunting ground now, don’t throw your lives away for nothing.”

The guard looked distraught. “But what about Father Superior?! He’s still up there!”

“If he’s up there, then he’s already dead.”

The guard’s whole body seemed to deflate. “Fuck…”

“Get out of here. This cause isn’t worth your lives, or anyone’s. Go!”

They didn’t need any more motivation than that, turning tail and sprinting away. Pedro took his cap off and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’ve gotta say, I really didn’t expect that to work so well.”

“What are we gonna do about this?” Drew asked, gesturing down at the mutilated body. “If Sam’s this dangerous, how the hell are we supposed to get her to stay in the ritual long enough to get it done?”

“We’ve got to try,” Roxy said. “Believe in the power of friendship or something. Maybe something inside her will still recognise us?”

“That is a very big maybe. But, you’re right. It’s this or nothing.”

“Come on,” Pedro said. “The longer we wait, the more people get hurt. Let’s go.”

They ascended the stairs one step at a time, following the trail of blood that the unwilling amputee had left behind. There were… noises, echoing down from the floor above, that Roxy wasn’t sure she wanted to identify. It brought to mind that night so long ago, walking down the street under the light of the full moon, hand in hand with Sam, and stumbling upon their first hint of DX-47’s existence.

The sight that greeted them when they reached the next floor did not betray their expectations one bit. It was a veritable sea of red; splattered all over the walls in gruesome streaks of arterial blood; seeping across the floor from the eviscerated corpses littering the ground; covering the huge figure that sat in the middle of it all, an errant arm trapped between her giant hand-paws as she ripped strips of flesh from it with her teeth and swallowed them down. Her once golden fur was messily caked with blood and viscera, dripping from her face and hands-or-paws-or-whatever. Her tail was lazily wagging back and forth. All in all, it looked like she was very much enjoying her meal, which would’ve been endearing if her meal wasn’t people.

Her back was turned when they first arrived - displaying an assortment of pink lines through her fur that made Roxy’s heart ache terribly - but it didn’t take long for her to notice their presence. A flick of her ear was all the warning they had before she whipped around with a snarl, her growl reverberating through Roxy’s ribcage. Roxy held her hand out as she felt her friends stiffen behind her, preparing for a fight.

“Sam, it’s us! It’s Roxy!”

Sam barked in response, nipping at the air in a threatening display of her fangs. She stood up on her hind legs, attempting to rise to her full terrifying height but hindered by the low ceiling. Her head bumped against it and she snarled, lashing out and raking giant gashes through the concrete with her claws, smashing a light in the process and raining sparks down upon them.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work, Rox! We need a new plan!” Drew shouted.

“Give her time! I know she’s still in there somewhere!”

Sam prowled forward, hunched over and huffing with each step. When she was a few feet away she dropped back to all fours and roared, a powerful sound that filled Roxy with the animalistic urge to flee. This isn’t your mate, her brain was screaming. This is a predator. The only thing that gave her pause on this notion was her eyes. There was so much rage in them, burning just beneath the surface and through her mark alike, but there was something else there, too. Guessing accurately what it could be was hopeless, but all Roxy’s mind could supply was sadness.

“It’ll be okay, Sammie. We’ll figure this out.” She slowly took a step forward, keeping her hand extended with her palm clearly visible. Sam shied away from it, snarling and nipping, clearly still wary of attack. Despite showing no outward sign of injury, Roxy knew from the mark that she’d been hurt recently, and the fear from her imprisonment was no doubt still fresh in her mind as well. The fact that she hadn’t already mauled her was a good sign, though. Sam was still in there, buried somewhere deep beneath the animalistic instinct and rage.

“I’m here, Sammie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, honey.” She took another step forward, bringing her hand closer to Sam’s head. Cautiously, the werewolf sniffed it. Apparently encouraged by whatever she found, Sam’s tongue flicked out and licked Roxy’s hand curiously.

Roxy giggled. “I always knew you were just a big softie.”

Sam was far too busy inspecting her to respond. She stepped into Roxy’s space, her huge frame filling up Roxy’s entire vision, and started snuffling at her neck with that big wet nose. Roxy carefully laid her hands down on Sam’s shoulders as she continued her search, gently stroking through her fur and hopefully providing her some comfort. She could feel her distress, her desperation pouring through the mark, raw and unfiltered, bubbling to the surface the more she frantically sniffed around. She was scared, Roxy realised. She was just a scared, lonely animal who didn’t know what was going on or where her pack was, lashing out at anything that moved out of desperate survival instinct. Honestly, it was still up in the air if she even recognised them in her current state, given how long it was taking her to figure out Roxy’s scent.

Sam’s nose found the original mark on Roxy’s neck and her whole body stilled for a second, letting out a mournful whine that very nearly snapped Roxy’s heart in two. She leapt back into the sniffing with a vengeance, excitedly nosing back and forth between the mark on Roxy’s neck and the one on her collarbone, emotions a whirlwind of elation and relief and regretful despair. She nuzzled her so aggressively that Roxy was knocked over and quickly pinned by the giant beast’s massive body dropping on top of her, assaulting her face with an excited tongue.

Roxy sputtered, unsure whether she was laughing or sobbing, too overwhelmed by sheer emotion to figure out which. She decided on ‘both’ and wrapped her arms around Sam’s huge neck, burying her face in bloody fur. “It’s okay, Sammie. It’s okay. I’m here, girl. I won’t leave you alone again.”

Sam whined again, and Roxy had to resist the urge to just spend the rest of the night coddling and comforting her. She would certainly still do that, of course, but preferably after they’ve prevented their entire species from being wiped from the face of the earth. Before she could do any of that, though, she needed to get this giant dog off of her so that she could move.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and Sam immediately went on high alert, jumping back to her feet with her fangs bared and an angry growl rumbling out. Roxy scrambled up as well, placing herself between her mate and her pack. “Woah girl, it’s okay. They’re friends.”

“It’s us, Sam,” Drew said. “You recognise us?”

Sam responded by snarling and barking at him. Not a great sign. “I don’t even think she recognises me, to be honest,” Roxy said. “I think she can just tell I’m her mate.”

“Well, what are we gonna do? We can’t move her if she keeps treating us like a threat.”

Roxy frowned. “Maybe just let her get used to your scent? Here, give me your hand.”

“You saw what she did to that asshole’s arm! I’m not putting my hands anywhere near her when she’s growling at me like that.”

Roxy huffed and turned back to her monstrous counterpart. “Sam, sit!”

The wolf complied, slamming her furry behind to the floor with eager obedience, tail swishing back and forth. Leif guffawed.

“I don’t even wanna know why that worked.”

Roxy turned and spared Leif a glare before looking back to Drew. “See? She listens to me. She won’t attack you if I tell her not to.”

Drew frowned. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Despite his protests, he did still offer up his hand for inspection, and Sam thankfully didn’t immediately turn it into a chew toy. She gave it a cautious sniff, eyes still trained on him warily. After a few seconds of cursory snuffling against his palm, she deemed his scent acceptable, and sat back on her haunches.

“Told ya,” Roxy grinned.

After that, it didn’t take long to get Sam used to Pedro and Leif either, though she still regarded them with wary caution. It would do for now, and they’d wasted enough time as it was. So long as she wasn’t actively mauling them, the details didn’t matter.

“Alright, which way to the Lunin Site?” Roxy asked.

“Anne said that the ritual would be taking place on the third floor, so I assume somewhere there,” Drew explained.

“Uh, before we go,” Leif interrupted. “Roxy, I feel like you should know that your face is absolutely covered in blood now.”

Roxy swiped a finger across her cheek and sure enough, it came back red. She grimaced. “Ooh, gross.” Pedro offered her a hanky and she wiped as much of it off as she could.

“Much better,” Leif said when she was done.

“Alright then, let’s go.” She turned to call Sam to follow, only to find that she’d wandered back to her pile of bodies while Roxy’s back was turned. “Sam, oh my god! Come! Heel!”

The werewolf turned back to her with Perkins’ arm clutched between her jaws, trotting over happily. Roxy frowned.

“Drop it.”

Sam whined.

Roxy rolled her eyes. “Fine, you big dolt. Come on.” She turned to head up the stairs, and was grateful to hear Sam’s pounding footsteps following behind.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Drew said. “That guy was a total prick, he had it coming.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

A huge crash and a chorus of screaming from downstairs made them all freeze in their tracks. Sam started growling and snarling, facing the way back down to the first floor.

“Shit, another wolf must’ve gotten in,” Pedro said. “Sounds like there were still some stragglers. Hopefully they’ll keep it occupied. Quickly, let’s go before it comes up here.”

They needed no more encouragement, sprinting up the stairs as fast as they could. Sam bounded up behind them, sticking close to Roxy. She could feel it now, the pull of the Lunin Site crackling in the air. It made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end and caused Sam to bristle. She whimpered and Roxy felt her fear flowing through the mark. This was where the harrowing transformation had happened, after all. It wasn’t a shock that she would be afraid.

“Feels like it’s this way,” Pedro said, leading them onwards.

“Despite the few minor hiccups, this has been a lot easier than I was expecting,” Leif said. “Certainly a lot easier than breaking Roxy out was.”

“It helps that most of the outpost has been emptied, I think.” Drew replied.

Roxy shook her head exasperatedly. “Both of you, please. We’re so close, don’t jinx this.”

Of course, it was right then that their luck would turn in the worst possible way. A man stepped out of a doorway in front of them; at least six foot five, an absolute wall of muscle with buzzed blond hair atop his head. In his hands he held a loaded LMG, though Roxy couldn’t make out the model. Probably didn’t matter much, considering he’d just seen them and was raising it up to fire.

“GET DOWN!” Pedro shouted right before all hell broke loose, drawing his own weapon a second too late.

Roxy dove to the ground as the world split with rapid gunfire. Her left arm lit up in agony as she fell and she cried out, ducking her head. Sam obviously didn’t listen to Pedro, attempting to pounce at the huge man, but the hail of bullets was just too much. Roxy felt the concussive pain through the mark before it all went black, the onslaught knocking Sam out and sending her crashing to the floor like a 400 pound sack of bricks. At least her body was providing some cover, but that was hardly comforting.

The gunfire stopped and the hallway fell silent, save for the sound of wheezy gasping and thundering heartbeats. Roxy took the opportunity to glance over at her pack, seeing the devastation that had befallen them. Leif was on her back, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the floor as she gasped and wheezed for breath. She didn’t seem to be bleeding, thank god. The vest must have saved her from the worst of it. Pedro, on the other hand, laid on his front, unmoving, with blood pooling slowly from under his abdomen. Roxy swallowed down the fear of that sight and turned to Drew. He was curled on his side, clutching at a bloody thigh.

A boot landed in front of her, obscuring her vision. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and came face to face with the barrel of the gun that just mowed down her friends.

“Oh, fuck!” she blurted, scrambling backwards, ignoring the fire that burned in her shot arm. The man stalked after her, easily catching up and stomping down on her ankle, trapping her in place. He pressed the barrel of the gun against her forehead and Roxy involuntarily whimpered at the burn of the hot metal.

Someone yelled from somewhere to her left and the gun was kicked away right as the man squeezed the trigger. It went off next to her ear, muting the world as horrible pain reverberated through her skull. She looked up and saw Leif, sword out and grimacing in pain but fighting valiantly, taking a swipe at the man. He blocked the blade with his gun and stepped forward into her space with a lashing kick. Leif sidestepped it, spinning with the momentum and using it to slash at his head.

It was almost laughable how easily he batted it away with the butt of his gun, sending the sword flying out of Leif’s hand. She barely had time to look surprised before he followed it up by swinging the stock into her temple. Her legs crumpled from underneath her and she staggered to the ground. He went down with her, smashing her in the face with the gun over and over until blood splattered across the floor.

Roxy’s hearing kicked back in on one side and the sound of Leif’s sputtering gurgles of pain hit her like a truck. She forced herself to her feet, unsheathing her sword, and promptly tumbled back over as the world spun out from under her, her balance completely out of wack in the wake of her most-likely ruptured eardrum.

“Get off of her!” Drew screamed, flinging himself at the man off of his uninjured leg. He latched onto his back, claws carving deep furrows into the man’s chest as he scrambled for purchase. His mouth was open, fangs bared and ready to plunge deep into the man’s neck the second he got a good angle, but he never got the chance. The man reached behind himself with one hand and grabbed the back of Drew’s shirt collar before hunching over and pulling, throwing him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Drew tried to scramble up, but the man stomped on his bad leg, aimed, and fired a single shot. Roxy wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or not to hear the sound of Drew screaming in pain. It meant the bullet hadn’t killed him, at least. How long would that last, though?

The sound of vicious growling thankfully distracted the man from finishing any of them off. There, at the far end of the hall near the stairs they’d come up from, was another hulking werewolf. Their greyish fur bristled as they snarled at him, ears pinned back threateningly. They must be the one that broke in earlier. The man raised his gun away from Drew’s face as the werewolf charged forward, squeezing the trigger and bracing against the recoil, sending a hail of bullets down the hallway.

The other wolf didn’t fare much better than Sam against the onslaught. They yelped and collapsed to the ground, rolling forward as their momentum carried them onwards towards the group until they finally skidded to a stop, seemingly unconscious. The man wasted no time, marching forward and planting a boot on the wolf’s shoulder, pressing the barrel of the machine gun against the wolf’s temple and firing a concentrated volley directly into their skull. Bullet-resistant or no, nothing could possibly stand up to such firepower, and this wolf was no exception. When the man pulled his gun away, there was a bloody, smoking hole in their head, and their once-thundering heartbeat had gone silent.

Roxy forced herself to her feet while he was distracted, using her cane for its intended purpose for once, leaning on it to keep her balance. She crept forward, keeping low to the ground, and once she was close enough, she unsheathed her sword once more, going for the kill. If only this superhuman freak of a man wasn’t so damn perceptive.

He spun around and clocked her right in the cheekbone with the now-bloodied butt of the LMG, letting go with one hand to close it around her throat. In a frankly ridiculous display of strength, he lifted her off the ground and jabbed the barrel of the gun into her belly. She watched in slow motion as his finger settled on the trigger. The sound of the gunshot rang through her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for death to come claim its due.

The pain never came. Instead of a burning hole through her abdomen, Roxy was left with nothing but questions as the man’s hand went slack and she fell to the floor. Her eyes flew open as two more shots cracked through the air, just in time for hot, sticky blood to splatter across her face. The man crumpled lifelessly to the floor, his face an unrecognisable mess of exit-wound gore with a huge hole right in the middle, two matching holes in the centre of his back. She scrambled backwards, looking up at the pair of figures that had appeared in the hallway.

It was Anne, medkit hanging from her shoulder and holstering a pistol as a seemingly-injured Chris hobbled along behind her.

“Fucking took you long enough!” Drew yelled, his voice cracking from pain.

The pair rushed forward and Anne zeroed in on Pedro as clearly the most grievously injured of the party, setting down her medkit and kneeling next to him. “What’s the sit-rep?” she asked evenly.

“We got shot up,” Drew hissed. “My leg and shoulder are fucked. Leif, are you conscious?”

Leif groaned. “Barely.” She turned her head to the side and spat out a wad of blood and loose teeth. “Ugh. ‘m fine. Vest saved me from the worst of it. Few broken ribs, maybe. Breathing stings.”

“I think I just got grazed,” Roxy said. “Focus on Pedro, please. He hasn’t moved since the shooting started.”

Anne hummed, carefully rolling Pedro onto his back. The front of his shirt was a mess of blood, and he hadn’t reacted at all to Anne’s poking and prodding as she lifted the shirt away from the injury. Roxy would’ve been scared he was already dead if she couldn’t hear his heartbeat, slowly plodding away. “Single abdominal wound, lower-middle of the umbilical region. Intestinal damage likely, spinal damage plausible. Bleeding is slow, arterial damage unlikely. He needs surgery, ASAP. Not even a wolf’s healing will fix this on its own.” She pulled a cloth out of her kit and started applying pressure.

“I’ll radio the Council,” Leif said, dragging herself over to the wall and leaning on it. “They’ll send help. Roxy, you need to keep going. End this thing so they can get here without trouble.”

“Here,” came a voice from beside her. She turned and saw Chris, gingerly kneeling next to her with a bandage. “Let me patch you up before you go.”

The thought made her want to curl up and die, but she huffed and nodded. That fight had taken it out of all of them, and who knew what else was waiting up ahead? She would need all the help she could get. “Chris.”

“Roxy.” A small smile appeared on his lips as he began wrapping up her arm. It hurt like a bitch but she wasn’t about to make that known. “It’s been a while.”

“I should kill you for what you’ve done,” she grunted.

Chris hummed. “If you must, at least wait until after this is all over. I can’t put up much of a fight in my state, but I can’t promise that Anne won’t defend me.”

“What are you even doing here? Why aren’t you out fighting with the rest?” The question of ‘why are you helping us?’ went unsaid, but Chris seemed to pick up on it regardless.

He sighed. “I’ve decided that I don’t really agree with Father Superior’s plan. Perhaps a little too late, but what can I do? He whipped me for it and Anne and I barricaded ourselves in my quarters to wait it out, ‘till we heard the gunfire and thought that you all could use a little help.”

“He whipped you?” Roxy asked. “How does a taste of your own medicine feel?”

Chris grunted. “Deserved. I dragged those two direwolves here to suffer the very same fate, it’s the bare minimum of what I deserve for putting them through all that.”

“Yeah, and it fucking sucked, by the way,” Drew said from the opposite side of the corridor. Leif had gotten her hands on some bandages and was now patching him up as well. “Try sitting naked in a cell and shitting in a bucket for a week next. It’s a real blast.”

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Any response Chris might have had to that was interrupted by a low growl, rumbling through the corridor. Sam was waking up, shakily lifting herself to her feet, emotions a whirlwind of trepidation and fear-masking anger. She spotted the two ex-hunters and dropped into a crouch, growling and snapping her jaws at Chris. A very appropriate reaction, Roxy thought, but alas, mauling them was probably not a good idea.

“Sam, sit!”

Despite her wariness, the wolf obeyed with a whine before laying down on her front and shuffling over until her head was in Roxy’s lap. Even with drug-induced rage still flowing through her system, Sam couldn’t help but be a total softie. It didn’t stop her from growling at Chris, though.

“I’ve never seen a wolf on DX-47 be so placid before,” Chris remarked.

“Her wolf knows me. Even with the drug blocking her higher brain function, it can still recognise its mate,” Roxy replied, scratching Sam behind the ears.

“That implies that Sam ever had higher brain function to begin with,” Leif joked, voice nasally and lisping from her steadily swelling bruises.

“Give her some credit,” Drew cut in. “She was the one that thought of using disguises for our escape. I was fully prepared to go streaking if not for her. It’s the only reason I made it out.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Chris said, tying off the bandage. “You should get going. The ritual will only work for so long.”

Roxy nodded, pulling herself to her feet along with Sam, leaning on her to maintain her balance. “Alright. See you all on the flipside, then.”

“Good luck,” Leif said with a shaky smile. Roxy gave her a two-finger salute and turned away, following the pull towards the Lunin Site. They were so close now. She had a small container of ritual paint already prepared in her pocket, along with a syringe of the vaccine. She had everything she needed, all that was left was to complete the ritual and finish this, once and for all.

She could feel Sam’s fear growing as they got closer and closer to the Site, feel her body shaking under her hands. Roxy almost didn’t want to make her go back in there, but this was bigger than just the two of them, now. Sam was a big girl, she would just have to suck it up and deal for a few minutes. Then it would all be over.

They were there. Roxy could feel it, just beyond the door she’d come to. Without waiting any longer, she stepped inside, Sam close on her heels. The room would’ve been nondescript if it wasn’t for the blood splattering the walls and the corpses splayed out across the floor in several pieces. Sam’s handiwork, and likely deserved. She spied the altar in the middle and wasted no more time, reaching into her pocket to pull out the paint flask.

“Sam, up!” she called, indicating the altar. Sam whimpered, but ultimately did as she was asked, hopping up and laying on her front. “Sorry, girl. It’ll be over soon, don’t worry.”

Roxy opened the flask and dumped a glob of thick, black paint over Sam’s back, quickly and messily spreading it around through her fur. She knew how this worked; she’d seen the ritual performed over and over on every werewolf in Dewsbury, testing and pushing the limits to see what they could get away with not doing. Despite the reverent, quasi-religious nature of their first ritual, it really was deceptively simple.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered to herself, pulling out the syringe to have it at the ready. They’d talked about it a little, and the general consensus was that the best time to inject would be after the floating started. She would have to be careful with her timing, but she could do this. She had to do this.

“Uh… prayer… prayer…” She faltered, her mind blanking on anything to say to get the ritual to kick off. In the end, she settled on just making wishes to whoever was listening. “Please let this nightmare be over. Please just give me my girlfriend back. Let us live in peace and forget about all of this. Let all the werewolves around the world go back to normal, and please please please let the government be merciful after everything that happened tonight. It wasn’t their fault.”

It worked. A deep red glow spread across the paint on her back and she let out a low whine, a shiver running down her body. Roxy took off the needle sleeve and squeezed the plunger to get rid of any leftover air. Sam eyed it with trepidation, but bravely stayed where she was. This was it, any second now the main Lunin surge would start. They were so close…

Sam yelped in shock as her body lifted off of the altar, limbs flailing wildly. This was their one chance. Roxy moved, jumping up and carefully injecting the syringe into her neck, pushing down the plunger. She’d just managed to empty the thing before one of Sam’s thrashing arms caught her in the chest, knocking her back across the room and winding her. It was okay, though. It was all okay now, because the transformation was already reversing. Sam’s body was shrinking, muscles deflating and bones shifting around until her form was that of a normal - if rather large - wolf. The ritual finished with a dim flash and Sam was slowly lowered back down to the altar, limp and unconscious. Roxy forced herself to her feet and stumbled over.

“We did it,” she said, almost in disbelief. “Holy shit, we actually did it!” Laugher burst out from her chest as she reached the altar, leaning over and wrapping her arms around Sam, burying her face in her fur. The smell of pine wafted into her nose and she almost started crying from sheer joy. “You’re back. You’re back… I’m sorry I took so long.”

Nose full of pine as it was, one ear still ringing and the other completely deaf, eyes shut in blissful relief, it was no wonder she was snuck up on so easily. She didn’t even realise there was anyone else in the room until her sword was being pulled out of its sheath. Alarms rang in her head and she ducked just in time to avoid the swing she knew was coming. She turned and backed away, coming face to face with the old priestly man from the broadcast, holding her sword in a perfect grip and absolutely brimming with rage.

“Vile creature! You ruined everything!” He rushed at her with a jab and she dodged to the side, stumbling over her own feet. “Fifty years of waiting, of planning!” He swiped the sword at her head and she barely ducked under it, charging forward into his opening with her claws aiming at the soft flesh of his belly. In one fluid movement, he swept around her out of sight and Roxy felt a line of fire open up across her back - a shallow cut, made with her own blade. She spun back around, reassessing her attacker. He was more skilled than he seemed.

“My revenge was finally in my grasp, and you took it from me! Abomination!”

“Cry about it, you old fuck!” She leapt at him, her wolf giving her strength and launching her high above his head, boot lashing out for a kick. It glanced off the side of his bald cranium and she landed in a roll, allowing her momentum to carry her to the wall and springing off of it for a faster turn. The priest was stunned by the hit and she took the opportunity, this time aiming low for his legs. He recovered quicker than she expected, however, and was able to just barely dodge her claws, leaving four shredded rips in the thigh of his pants.

“This is your end, beast! I’ll purge every last one of you!” He screamed, coming at her with a sudden unexpected ferocity, swiping and slashing this way and that. Roxy ducked and weaved, stumbling backwards away from the onslaught, the blade nicking her skin every few swings. With her balance still shot, her coordination was seriously lacking, and sooner or later, it was going to get her killed unless she got her act together.

She ignored his goading, staying on the defensive and studying his movements. He was a master at his craft, clearly, no doubt a force of nature in his prime, but everyone had a weakness, and his was staring right at her, milky and blind. He was overcompensating for his blindspot, kiting her around and keeping her well within his field of vision. If she could just get to his left side somehow, she was confident that she could end this in one fell swoop. Just one quick movement was all it would take…

He took a swing to the right - the perfect opening. Roxy lithely ducked under it, following through with the movement until she was soundly on his left, and darted out. She was too close and moving too quick; there was no way he could dodge. Something flashed across the edge of her vision, glinting in the light, and her claws sank into his throat right as a dull, winding thud shot through her body from her chest. Blood spurted from his severed carotid and jugular across her face - he was done.

The priest stumbled backwards from the force of her attack, his hands empty and now clutching at the gash in his ruined throat, uselessly trying to stem the endless flow of blood. His legs hit the altar and collapsed from underneath him, leaving him slumped against it, a bizarre, misplaced smile on his face as he looked back up at her. His voice croaked out one final time before he went limp, his last breath rattling from his chest and leaving him silent.

“Lex… talionis…”

Something caught at the bottom of her vision and she glanced down. She almost didn’t believe her eyes at first.

Her own sword, buried nearly hilt deep in her chest, entering just right of her sternum and presumably exiting a little farther down and further right, judging by the angle of the handle. Straight through her lung, probably. That was… not ideal, but it would be okay. It was always okay. She didn’t come this far to be killed by a geriatric with her own sword.

She tried to say something; maybe ‘well, shit.’ Perhaps; ‘that’s not good.’ Something obvious and corny, that would probably make Leif laugh if she saw it in a movie, but her breath caught, and instead of words, all that came up into her mouth was coppery blood. Trying to breathe in met a similar result. It caught, she coughed, and blood sprayed out.

Shaking hands closed around the bit of blade between the hilt and her chest, her subconscious taking over and trying to fix the problem with instinct; there was something inside of her that should not be, and thus it must be removed. Thankfully, despite her detached, shocked state, she still had the mental faculty to halt that command. Everyone knew that when you got impaled, you had to keep the object in the wound to prevent blood loss. That was basic first aid.

Not being able to breath was becoming an issue. Darkness was pooling around her vision and her head was spinning even more than usual. She decided this wasn’t something she’d be able to fix on her own. She needed help. If she could get out into the hallway, someone would see her and come help, be it Leif or Pedro or whoever was out there. The specifics were slipping her mind, but they weren’t important. The important thing was…

Getting outside. Right. Fuck, her chest was starting to hurt really bad. She could feel her heartbeat rattling through her skull like the ticking of a clock, spreading more blackness across her vision with every passing second. Just… Get outside. One foot in front of the other. Walking. Easy. Walking was very easy, she did it all the time. She was an expert at it. One foot… One step…

The world looked… wrong. She was leaning up against a wall now. She tried taking another step, but her leg flopped around uselessly against nothing but air. Where did the floor go? Where did this wall come from? The floor… Oh. She must have fallen. ‘I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up,’ she thought. She would have laughed at herself if laughing was something she was capable of right now.

Maybe… Maybe it was fine. She did what she needed to do. Probably. It felt like she had. She felt… satisfied. Maybe what was happening was okay. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she welcomed the comforting darkness. The pain was fading. Floating away. Her part was finished, and she could rest. It would all be okay now.

It would all… be… okay…

Roxy fell asleep.

—

Sam woke up.

Her eyes snapped open, alertness and remnant fear waking her system along with the scent of so much blood. It was everywhere, all over herself as well, caked and matted into her fur, and judging from the smell, from many different sources, including her mate.

The almost-total silence from her mark sent a wave of panic through her system once she noticed it. It was deeper than sleep, quieter than unconsciousness, a pit of emptiness in her heart that should not be there, and it was getting worse with every passing second. Her muscles ached and groaned with a fatigue the likes of which she’d never felt before, but she forced herself up to her feet, hopping off the table and following her mate’s coppery scent, shifting back to her human form as she did so.

She found Roxy. It took a second for her mind to catch up with what she was seeing. It didn’t seem real, like some sort of bad dream. Like she would wake up and find Roxy in bed next to her, not lying on her side with a sword through her chest, not breathing, heart weakly thumping and fading fast.

“Oh fuck, no no no no no!” She dropped to her knees next to Roxy’s broken form, hands hovering and shaking badly. She was scared to touch her in case she somehow made it worse, but how could it get much worse than this? How could this have even happened? Sam shook her head. That wasn’t important right now. What mattered was that right now, Roxy was dying, and Sam had no fucking idea what to do.

“Roxy?” she whispered out of sheer desperation. “Roxy, I- I don’t know what to do. Wh-what do I do? H-how can I fix this?”

Despite her pleas, Roxy remained still and silent save for her steadily weakening heartbeat, and Sam couldn’t hold back the tears. She broke down sobbing, cradling Roxy’s body against her chest. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening. Roxy was far too good to get beaten by anyone in a swordfight. It didn’t make any sense. When Sam had first gone into the ritual, Roxy was alive, awake; hope and determination flowing through the mark in droves. The time between first getting injected and then waking up on the altar a minute ago had passed in the blink of an eye for her, and now everything was suddenly different, the world wrong and broken in a way she didn’t know how to fix. She felt like there was a hole inside of her, a vital part of her soul ripped out and missing. It hurt worse than anything had ever hurt before. It hurt worse than the whipping. It hurt worse than getting her eye gouged out. Roxy was dying, and there was nothing she could do.

Wait, her eye! Her hand shot up to her face, fingers inspecting what should be nothing more than a bloody stab wound. It was still bloody, certainly, dried and crusted uncomfortably in the grooves of her face, but where there should be an empty socket was a perfectly functioning right eye. It had healed somehow, and by the looks of things, it seemed to be working perfectly! That was it, that was the key. She just had to figure out how her eye had come back. Roxy wasn’t going to die, not if she had anything to say about it.

The most logical course of action would be to try the ritual. Given the Lunin surge, it was the most likely cause of her healing factor spiking to such a degree, and frankly, she didn’t have many other options. If it was due to DX-47 somehow, she was shit out of luck since Roxy was already immune to it, and if it was due to something that happened while she was… doing whatever she did between the first ritual and now, she couldn’t remember it anyway. Based on the taste of blood at the back of her throat and the feeling of it coating most of her skin, it wasn’t hard to guess what she’d spent most of her time doing. She’d have to get the whole story out of someone later. Speaking of which, where was everyone else?

Okay, nope, not the time to be wondering about that. Roxy was right there, and she was the only one that Sam knew for certain was in danger and needed help. No use worrying about the others right now. She carefully scooped Roxy up - taking care not to jostle the sword lest she caused more damage - and laid her down on the altar under the red glow of the moon. She knew she would need to remove the sword before the ritual began in earnest, but the longer she could put that off, the better. Safer to keep the wound plugged up.

Roxy had - presumably - done the ritual on Sam in order to change her back and fix everything, so she probably still had some paint on her. Sam searched through her pockets until she found what she needed, slicing Roxy’s shirt off with her claws and spreading paint across her skin. There were so many little cuts and bruises across her torso that Sam hadn’t noticed at first, no doubt a result of whatever went on before she woke up on the altar. Seeing her again after all this time should’ve been a beautiful moment, filled with happiness and love, but all Sam could feel was sick to her stomach with raw fear. She needed to act fast.

She took a step back and - failing to think of anything else she could possibly say to get this to work - just started begging.

“Please please please please please please please please please work I don’t know what to do if this doesn’t work please work!”

Surprisingly, that absolute word vomit did actually work, turning the black paint on Roxy’s skin a menacing red. As to if the ritual as a whole would heal her, that was still up in the air. Roxy’s body was slowly lifted up by an unseen force, and Sam decided now was the best time to get rid of the sword, grabbing the hilt and carefully pulling it out of Roxy’s chest before she got too high to reach. She didn’t react, but a worrying amount of blood spilled from the wound, splattering onto the altar. It was already slowing, but Sam didn’t know if she should get hopeful. Roxy’s heart was still beating far too weakly, and she had yet to start breathing again.

The Lunin surge hit with a flash of light, briefly blinding Sam as the horrible sound of cracking bone filled the room. For a moment, she was terrified. What could have gone so awfully wrong as to elicit a sound like that? But then, blinking away the brightness, she saw it. A small, black-furred wolf with a patch of white over its right eye, gently floating back down to the altar, not a drop of blood dripping from her chest. Thanks to the sheer quantity of Lunin from the eclipse ritual, Roxy had finally managed to fully shift. It should’ve been an incredible moment.

But she still wasn’t breathing.

Sam panicked, burying her hands in Roxy’s fur, searching through it for any sign of the wound. Aside from a little hairless bump beside her sternum, it seemed to have healed over completely. The hard part should be over, they should be out of the woods and Roxy should be recovering, but her heartbeat had only marginally improved after the ritual, and now it was sounding more erratic than anything. She needed oxygen. Sam vaguely knew how to do CPR, as they’d trained a little for it and she did a first aid unit at school one time, but that was on human bodies. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to do it on a wolf though, right? Their biology wasn’t that different. Either way, she had to try.

Threading her fingers together, she placed her palms on the side of Roxy’s chest and began compressions. It was torture to her torn and aching muscles, but she pressed on. She would keep going as long as it took for Roxy to start breathing again.

Crack!

One of Roxy’s ribs went, but Sam didn’t stop. She could apologise for it later, once Roxy was okay.

“Come on… Don’t do this to me, Rox,” she huffed. “After everything we’ve been through, all the battles we’ve fought to get here, you aren’t leaving me now.” A sob tore from her throat, but it didn’t slow her down. “We’ll be okay, Roxy. Please be okay. I can’t lose you.”

A cough. A splatter of blood across the altar from an open mouth. A gasping, wheezing breath as a still chest began rising and falling on its own power once more. She was breathing. It worked, she was actually breathing!

Sam broke down for what would hopefully be the last time of the night, burying her face in familiar-scented fur as she sobbed. It was all, finally over. The day was saved, Roxy was alive, and Sam could finally let out everything she’d been bottling up over the past week of suffering. They were gonna be okay!

No one would hurt them anymore. They were finally safe.

—

Leif was not having a very good night. Each tiny breath she took was like fire burning through her chest, sharp and prickly, and the longer she waited for Roxy to get back or the Council medics to arrive, the worse the throbbing in her face got. Compared to Drew and Pedro, though, she got off lucky, in her opinion. Both of the bullets Drew had been hit with had gone all the way through, so at least he wouldn’t need them to be surgically removed, but that didn’t mean the damage was any less serious. Anne thought that he would be lucky to have full use of his shoulder once it healed, and he’d probably still need surgery to fix it up properly beyond the stitches she’d given him. Pedro’s condition was still up in the air, though thankfully he didn’t seem to be actively getting worse, which was a small comfort.

“How much longer are they gonna take?” she wheezed. “I swear, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“Maybe there was a complication?” Drew replied. “I’m pretty sure I felt the ritual go off twice. Maybe Roxy fucked something up the first time. She looked pretty out of it when she left, to be fair.”

“I can go check on them, if you like,” Anne offered. “Pedro seems stable.”

“You’ve done enough,” Leif growled, crossing her arms and trying not to wince. “We don’t need or want any more of your help.”

Anne breathed out slowly through her nose. “I understand. If… If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry for… for what happened.”

Leif rolled her eyes. “Oh great, you’re sorry. I’m sure that means a lot to Clarissa after you murdered her.”

“She was following my orders,” Chris cut in. “If you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

“Don’t worry, I do.”

Drew let out a sigh. “Can we not do this right now? If something went wrong and we’re all about to die a horrible death, I’d rather my last moments not be spent arguing.” He turned to her, eyes earnest but still clearly conflicted, deep down. “They saved us, Leif. That’s got to count for something.”

Leif shook her head. “You weren’t there. You didn’t have to… to see it happen. I can’t just forgive them because they’ve decided to do the right thing now.”

He gently took her hand and squeezed it. “I know, and I’m not asking you to. I feel the same. But they do want to help, and we should let them.”

She held his red-tinted gaze for a moment before sighing as much as her ribs would allow, letting her forehead fall against his good shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He grinned. “Dunno if ‘okay’ is the word I would use. ‘Alive,’ maybe. ‘Very very sore,’ definitely.”

She smiled back and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m with you there. Feels like I got hit by a truck.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled. His eyes flickered over her shoulder and she watched about five different emotions cross his face in the span of a second. “Sam…”

Leif whirled around - sincerely regretting the action - and saw the girl in question walking slowly down the hall towards them, nude as the day she was born aside from the blood drenching her skin, and cradling a black form in her arms. Roxy was nowhere to be found and something in Leif’s gut twinged with panic. Sam didn’t seem to have noticed them, too busy gazing softly at whatever she was holding so reverently.

“Sam!”

Her head shot up and a tired smile overtook her features when she saw them. There were tear tracks running down through the blood on her face, giving her a dishevelled appearance that her shaggy, close-cropped hair didn’t help. Sam’s smile dropped when she registered the state they were in, and who they were with. She picked up the pace, stumbling over and hiking up the form in her arms to keep it close to her chest.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice rough. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’ll live,” Drew responded. “Medics are already on their way. What about you?”

Sam let out a sigh of relief that seemed to sap the strength from her body. She collapsed to her knees, slumping against the wall and burying her face in the fur of what Leif could now see was an unconscious wolf - with some very familiar scars. “So tired.”

“Where’s… Where’s Roxy?” Leif asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew.

Sam nodded her head to the wolf in her arms. “Right here. She… She actually shifted.”

“How?” Drew asked.

Sam’s face crumpled. “It’s… a long story. I’ll tell you later.” She indicated to the two ex-hunters that were trying to mind their own business a few feet away. “Why are they here?”

Drew chuckled. “Also a long story. They saved our lives, though. Killed that big muscly asshole from the whipping.”

“Good riddance. Father Superior’s dead, too. Roxy must’ve killed him before I woke up. Found his body with the throat ripped out. Or maybe I did, when I was… y’know. Rampaging or whatever. Figured he’d probably be more ripped up if that were the case, though, like the rest of the bodies in the room.”

“Yeah, you really made a mess of those hunters,” Leif said with a grin that stung her split lips. “Don’t worry, you didn’t give us any trouble. You were perfectly obedient once you recognised Roxy. Like a big, angry puppy.”

“Oh,” Sam said, chuckling slightly. She looked down at Roxy. “Can’t say that’s too surprising.”

At that moment, Roxy made a small noise, and then a whole lot of big, disturbing noises as her bones creaked and groaned, her body shifting back into her regular old human form, still just as unconscious and just as nude as her partner.

“Oh my god,” Sam exclaimed, clutching at Roxy in some feeble attempt to cover her dignity. Leif had mercy on her and painstakingly pulled her shirt off, offering it as a blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and Leif didn’t mind. She was still wearing a bra, and if she really had a problem she could just put her bulletproof vest back on.

“You can have mine too, if you don’t mind a few bloodstains and bullet holes,” Drew offered.

Sam shook her head, laying the garment over Roxy’s torso. “That’s fine. I don’t care about me, but I know she would probably mind a bit more.” She looked up to Leif. “Keep an eye on her for me? I’m pretty sure her pants are still intact, but they fell off when she shifted. I’m gonna go get them.”

Leif nodded and Sam got up with a pained groan, jogging back down the hallway. How she could even stand to move after experiencing the drug, Leif had no idea.

She looked down at her best friend, her eyes sunken and heavily bagged. Despite their setbacks, despite all the people working to the contrary, they’d actually done it. They’d saved the whole goddamn world. There were so many losses and sacrifices on their journey, but they’d recover. They would heal. They’d done it before, and they’d do it again, ready to face whatever life threw at them next.

Leif smiled. God, she couldn’t wait to finally have a nap.

—

Roxy was warm. That was the first thing she came to be aware of as her mind slowly lifted out of the fog of sleep. She was warm and comfortable in a way that was hard to understand, like it shouldn’t have been possible, though she didn’t know why. Not keen on looking a gift horse in the mouth, she didn’t question it, instead just shuffling further underneath the heavy source of warmth that was spread across most of her body. The movement sent a spike of pain through her chest, but she just grumbled and ignored it. Her cheek brushed against something soft, and pine filled her nose. She let out a noise of satisfaction and buried her face in it. It smelled so comforting, so familiar, like the pine woods from back home mixed with her favourite shampoo.

The warmth shifted a little, and Roxy realised blankly that it was another person, one of her packmates. Something soft pressed against her lips, and for a second she was alarmed, until she recognised the pine as her mate’s scent. Of course. Who else would it be? She couldn’t quite remember what had happened or how they got here, but Sam was with her, so the specifics didn’t really matter to her right now.

Roxy’s eyelids fluttered open and she finally saw her partner after so long apart, smiling at her with all the warmth and softness in the world. They were in their room at the Council building, curled together in bed. Sam looked absolutely ragged, with heavy eyebags and bloodshot sclera, like she hadn’t slept at all. She was absolutely beautiful.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sam greeted, leaning over to kiss her again.

“S- Sam…” Roxy sighed. Somehow, Sam was in front of her, completely okay aside from the loss of a majority of her hair, and Roxy couldn’t for the life of her remember how they got there. She remembered… going to the outpost. Blood. Pain. She thought she could remember Sam in her giant beast form, and considering she was here now in regular human form, they must have succeeded in reversing the ritual, but all the details were blank and fuzzy. So, instead of saying something even remotely intelligent, all she could manage was, “You’re here.”

“Yep,” Sam said, popping the ‘p.’ It looked like she was about to say something else, but Roxy surged forward, cutting her off with an eager kiss. She was here. She was actually here, safe and sound in her arms after so long of being unsure they would ever see her again. Roxy wanted to make the most of it.

Sam sank into the kiss, parting her lips with something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob. She grasped at Roxy desperately, trying to pull her closer as if Roxy hadn’t already closed any and all space between them in her own attempts to drag Sam directly into her soul.

“I’m so sorry,” Roxy muttered between frantic kissing. She realised faintly that she was crying, the taste of salt spreading over her tongue. “I’m so sorry I took so long to find you.”

“Don’t apologise Roxy, please,” Sam replied, pulling back. Her face was covered in tears too. “The others already explained everything to me. I’m just… so glad you’re okay. You slept for so long I was starting to get worried again.”

Roxy frowned in confusion, sniffling a little. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“You were hurt, Roxy. Really bad. Bad enough that I don’t think you would’ve survived in any other situation. Do you… feel okay?”

That was certainly a lot to take in. If she was hurt that badly, it would explain why she was struggling to remember things. “Mostly. I can’t really remember what happened, though, and my chest hurts a bit.”

Sam winced. “Sorry, that’s probably my fault. I… I had to do CPR.”

Roxy’s eyes widened. “CPR?! What happened to me?!”

“I… don’t actually know how it happened, but when I woke up after you reversed the ritual, you were… already on the floor, impaled through the chest with your own sword.”

“Oh my god…” Roxy muttered. She pulled her shirt off, looking down and searching for any sign of a new scar or wound. It wasn’t hard to find. Compared to the thin white lines and obvious discoloured marks from her previous injuries, this one was a clear slight indentation, a little to the right of her sternum, cutting through the meat on the left-hand side of her breast. She gingerly searched around on her back with a hand until she found a similar scar. “Aw man, right through my boob.”

This managed to get a chuckle out of Sam. She leaned down and softly kissed the new mark. “It adds character to it.”

Roxy hummed, tracing a finger along the line. It wasn’t as numb as she expected it to be. Now that she’d been made aware of it, her mind was starting to flash with memories. Reaching the ritual room and curing Sam, fighting that priest guy, and then… nothing. “How… How did I survive that? It would’ve gone straight through my lung.”

“I did the ritual on you,” Sam replied. “It… With regular werewolf healing, you would’ve died, but something about the eclipse ritual heightens our healing beyond what should normally be possible. I… I still had to do CPR to clear the blood from your airway, but it closed the wound completely.” A small smile spread across her face. “You… You even managed to fully shift, for a few minutes there. You make a cute wolf.”

Roxy smiled at the thought. The idea of being able to fully shift at will was an exciting one, and she couldn’t wait to try and replicate it. “I wish I could remember it. But… What about you? Everything you went through, are you okay?”

Sam hesitated, looking away. “Physically, I’m perfectly healthy. Two rituals healed me right up. It even… Grew my eye back, somehow.” She reached up and touched just under the eye in question. Now that Roxy’s attention had been brought to it, she could just about make out a thin pale line crossing vertically through her eyelid. Her gut clenched.

“Your… eye?”

Sam nodded. “Father Superior c… c-cut it out when I tried to escape. Joke’s on him, I guess.”

Roxy didn’t ask about how Sam was feeling emotionally. She could already feel it, and even then, she didn’t need a mark to understand exactly what she was going through. That residual fear, the feeling of always being watched and waiting for your tormentor to jump out at you from around every corner. She knew it all too well.

“Your hair looks nice,” she said instead, trying to change the subject to something more pleasant. She ran her hand through the short, messy waves, scratching at Sam’s scalp. “Short hair suits you. We’ll make a butch out of you yet,” she joked.

Sam grinned. “Not sure I’d choose it if I had a choice in the matter, but… yeah. I think the big shift last night definitely helped grow it out a bit. Hopefully it won’t take too long to grow back.”

“In the meantime, I’d be happy to clean it up for you,” Roxy offered.

“Sure,” Sam replied, letting out a big yawn and leaned into Roxy, nuzzling against her chest. “I’m exhausted.”

“Didn’t you sleep?”

Sam shook her head lethargically. “Was waiting for you to wake up.”

Roxy smiled, rubbing the back of Sam’s head. She leaned down and planted a kiss against her parting. “You can rest now.”

The blonde shook her head again. “Gotta go see the others first. They’re waiting for you.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind until now, memories of their fight with that huge guy flashing through her head. “Is everyone okay?”

“They’ll live. No one’s dead.”

Roxy let out a nervous laugh. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

Sam grumbled. “We’ll go in a few minutes. Jus’ gonna nap… first…”

The girl almost immediately nodded off to sleep. Roxy sighed contentedly, soaking up the warmth of her mate. From this angle she could see down the back of Sam’s shirt, to all the thick pink lines criss-crossing her skin. It hurt her heart to know Sam had suffered so much, but it was all over now. The hunter’s plan had been stopped, their leadership had been killed, and with a little bit of luck, the governments of the world would see that what happened was all just a big misunderstanding. They’d fought so hard for so long, but now, they could finally rest.

Sam suddenly shot up, determination sparking through the mark like lightning.

“Nope! Not falling asleep without seeing our friends first!”

—

Roxy opened the door to the medbay and was practically slapped in the face by a wall of applause. People were whistling and cheering, clapping for her. They even had party poppers going off, spraying her with confetti. It was almost overwhelming, after such a calm morning.

“What… What is all this?” she asked, looking around the room and taking everyone in. She’d been wondering where her dad was when she and Sam left their room, but apparently, he’d been down here, setting whatever this was up.

“We’re celebrating!” Leif said. Out of everyone that went to the outpost, she was definitely in the best shape. Sure, her face was a patchwork of dark bruises and every movement made her visibly grimace, but compared to the others, it was no competition. Drew was in a wheelchair, one arm in a sling, and poor Pedro was lying in one of the beds, looking pale and haggard, but happy, especially with Valerie sitting at his bedside. “You saved the world, Roxy! You deserve a bit of acknowledgement.”

Roxy sputtered. “I-It wasn’t just me! I couldn’t have done it without all of you!”

“That’s true,” Leif acquiesced. “But you were asleep for soooo long. We’ve already celebrated us, now it’s your turn!”

“Well sorry for needing a little bit of rest after being impaled, I’ll try to wake up quicker next time,” she joked.

The whole room froze, smiles dropping from faces.

“You were what?!” Her dad exclaimed.

She turned to Sam. “You didn’t tell them?!”

Sam threw her hands up. “It just slipped my mind!”

“How does me getting stabbed through the chest just slip your mind?!”

“How are you even alive, Roxy?!” Drew asked.

“Apparently, the eclipse ritual has some crazy healing abilities,” she answered. “Fixed me right up, or so Sam says.”

Her dad rushed forward, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t scare me like that, Roxy!”

“Well, that’s some good news, at least,” Pedro said, his voice rough and gravelly. “Maybe with the eclipse ritual, this won’t be so permanent.” He gestured down at himself.

Roxy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The bullet that hit me got lodged in my spine. Haven’t been able to feel my legs since I woke up.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

He waved her off. “Don’t be. Better me than any of you. And besides, if the ritual’s as good as you say, maybe it can help.”

“I mean, it did grow my entire eye back, so I wouldn’t discount the idea,” Sam said.

“Your EYE?!” Damien yelled. “I… I need to sit down.”

“It’s been an eventful few days, that’s for sure,” Leif said. “Still, I wanna hear this eye story later.”

“I lost my eye, and then it grew back. It’s not that deep.”

“What happened with Chris and Anne?” Roxy asked, eager to change the subject.

“They went their own way after the medics arrived,” Drew said. “I doubt we’ll see them again.”

Roxy hummed. “That’s probably for the best.”

“I’m just looking forward to finally going home,” Leif said. “Don’t get me wrong, this place is great and all, but it’s no Dewsbury.”

“I’m with you there,” Sam replied. “I can’t wait to see Carol and Ava again.”

Roxy grinned. “We have so much to catch Ross up on. I wonder if he and Lukas are still together?”

“I think so,” Drew said. “He posted a selfie with him last night captioned ‘who else hanging out on werewolf rampage day?’ So, he’s probably fine.”

“Sounds about right,” Leif replied.

“Our house is going to be so dusty,” Damien whined. “And all of the kitchen appliances need to be replaced after Chris smashed them. And I need to see if I even still have a job. Oh, I really have my work cut out for me.”

“There’s one more thing we’ll need to prepare for once we get back,” Roxy said, taking Sam’s hand with a smile.

“What’s that?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Our wedding! We said we were gonna do it once this was all over, and it’s finally, finally fucking over!”

Sam’s face lit up and she started bouncing up and down. “Oh! We’ve gotta start planning!”

Pedro grinned. “So long as the venue is wheelchair accessible. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

—

3 MONTHS LATER

Roxy’s hands were shaking. She was so nervous, standing there in front of everyone in her hired tuxedo, waiting for Sam to show up. They were set up out in the woods surrounding Dewsbury, in a nice, wide clearing with flat, even ground. It was a pretty low-key affair just for the ceremony, with a simple walkway in between two sets of chairs leading up to a small stage where Roxy and the officiant were standing, but it was all they needed. The reception was just going to be at Carol’s house, anyway, so it’s not like this was going to be a fancy affair.

Everyone was there. Their whole pack, both of their families, including Maiah and her kids, and a couple of assorted friends from high school. Leif was playing the dual roles of bridesmaid and flower girl, and Drew was the best man for both of them. In truth, it was a little difficult to fill every role with their small attending party, but they were hardly worried about keeping things traditional, so it didn’t really matter too much to them. The only person who wasn’t there yet was Pedro, who would be walking Sam down the aisle.

Roxy caught a hint of white flashing through the trees and her heart skipped a beat. There she was, as radiant as Roxy had ever seen her, in a beautiful flowing white dress that brushed the ground, a veil covering her face. Pedro was rolling his wheelchair along beside her, holding her hand. Roxy could feel her nerves, too. This was it; their big day.

Sam reached the stage and stepped up as Pedro moved to the audience. Roxy reached up and pulled her veil away, revealing her gorgeous face, makeup subtle and perfect. Her hair was finally long enough to reach her shoulders again, and it was flowing freely down her neck.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered.

Sam’s smile was like the sun. “Says you. You look perfect, Rox.”

In truth, Roxy spaced out a little bit as the vows were said, too busy losing herself in the blue of Sam’s eyes. She’d practised them so many times that they just flew out of her mouth with little to no thought, and she was more than a little proud that they managed to get Sam to shed a couple tears. When Sam was saying hers, however, she made sure to pay attention. They’d been keeping them secret from each other, and she’d be lying if she said that Sam’s didn’t make her cry a little, too. It was mostly just stating the obvious, declaring their love for each other, recounting their time together and everything they’d been through, but something about the sheer passion that Sam poured through her words had Roxy choking up.

Next, Leif came up and presented them with their rings. Simple stainless steel bands that they each slipped onto each other’s ring fingers. They meant little in the face of the devotion behind their marks, but Roxy liked that everyone would be able to actually see these and know that they were each other’s, not just the werewolves who could smell the marks.

“I now pronounce you wife and wife,” the officiant finally declared, gesturing to both of them. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Now, for the part she’d been waiting for. Roxy pulled Sam down into a deep kiss, the audience cheered, and all was right with the world.