As we barreled into Salt Lake City, the clouds finally broke, revealing the full moon overhead. Its light would soon dominate the sky once the sun’s orange glow completely faded. But as we hit the city’s section of the highway, a new problem emerged—a mess of abandoned vehicles cluttered the road. I downshifted, keeping my eyes sharp, while Stoneclaw braced for impact beside me.

With my blade angled, I slammed into the first obstacle—an old Chevy Equinox. The vehicle went airborne, smashing into the concrete barriers of the interstate. Its mangled remains hung precariously over the edge, but I didn’t have time to admire the carnage. Another car, a rusty Honda Civic, was up next, and I plowed through it, my truck jolting with each impact. Stoneclaw flinched, gripping whatever he could find as the cab shook violently.

“By Luna’s grace, Alpha! You just sent that Toyota Prius flying off the overpass!” Tyler’s laughter crackled over the fleet-wide channel.

“Ten points to Gryffindor!” Charlotte shouted with playful enthusiasm.

“I caught that on camera,” Steve chimed in. “This’ll make for an epic YouTube video.”

Before I could respond, that same male voice from earlier aboard the Crescent Moon interrupted through my headset.

“Alpha Acosta, we’re sending you a new set of coordinates. Those tanks and supplies need to be at the front lines now. There’s no time to waste,” his tone was urgent, verging on panic.

I clenched my teeth, growling back, “Roger, Crescent Moon. We’re en route now.”

Scuzball suddenly appeared on my tablet screen, looking ridiculous in an old Vietnam combat helmet adorned with our unit’s logo. He had an ancient load-bearing vest on, with an M-16 rifle slung across his back. I blinked at the absurdity of his getup, but before I could comment, "Fortunate Son" by Creedence Clearwater Revival blasted through the fleet’s sound system, nearly causing my jaw to hit the floor. The new coordinates loaded on my screen, guiding us directly to the Salt Lake City International Airport.

By the time we reached the airport, the Chinese forces had already broken through the Black Rock Canyon Pass. The sun had fully set, leaving the moon blazing in the night sky. Tracer rounds lit up the darkness like shooting stars, and the staccato of .50 cals filled the air with their thunderous roar. Explosions soon followed, announcing the artillery’s devastating arrival on the battlefield.

I brought my truck to a screeching halt just past the airport interchange. Stoneclaw wasted no time, diving out of the cab and barking orders for the dragons to shift and take to the skies. In the next instant, his massive dragon form shot upward, a dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. Not to be outdone, I barked my own orders into the comms.

“Dragon Fleet, gear up and prepare for battle! Hold your shift as long as you can. Get those tanks loose—time is of the essence!” My voice cut through the chaos.

A collective woof echoed in my headset as everyone sprang into action. I threw on my body armor and helmet, grabbing my rifle and slamming a magazine home. With the charging handle pulled back, I dove out of my rig, sprinting towards the 77th’s trucks. Chaos reigned as Colonel Sirus bellowed orders, his officers scrambling to follow suit.

Meanwhile, my fleet was moving with precision, ratchet binders clicking frantically, and chains clanging as they worked to free the tanks. The night was alive with the sounds of battle—the whine of jet engines overhead, the distant rumble of artillery, and the rapid exchange of gunfire. And then, cutting through it all, an all-too-familiar voice rang out over every channel.

“The enemy is breaching the first defense barrier! We need support!” Cameron's voice roared through my headset, thick with urgency.

My blood ran cold as a massive explosion echoed in the distance, shaking the very ground beneath us.

“Alpha Balfour, support is on the way,” Cayro’s voice cut in, calm but commanding, before he directly pinged my command channel.

“Yes, sir,” I responded, already knowing what was coming.

“I need those tanks and your gear at the front lines right now,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“Roger that, sir, but we need five minutes,” I replied, even though I knew it was a stretch.

“We don’t have five minutes, Lyra,” he snapped. “Do whatever you need to do to get those tanks on the ground and your cargo to Alpha Balfour.”

“Yes, sir!” I barked, then turned my gaze to the chaos unfolding around me. The urgency in Cayro’s voice fueled my determination. Using my alpha power, I unleashed a sharp, ear-splitting whistle that cut through the night, snapping everyone to attention.

“Fuck the chains! Colonel Sirus, get your tank teams in their tanks. Now!” I commanded, my voice carrying the weight of the situation.

“Excuse me?” he barked back, his tone incredulous.

“Get your teams into their tanks and snap the chains!” I roared, leaving no room for argument.

He hesitated for a moment, his face a mask of shock, before turning to his unit. “You heard the fucking wolf bitch! Get to the tanks!”

“Dragon Fleet, back to the trucks! We’re going in to support the front line!” I ordered, the adrenaline surging through me.

I sprinted back to my truck, my heart pounding in sync with the thrum of war in the distance. Cameron’s voice crackled over my headset as I slammed the door shut.

“First defense barrier is breached! We need backup now!” he roared, desperation creeping into his voice.

“We’re on our way. Hold the line!” I barked back, slamming my truck into gear and releasing the brakes. The tires screeched as they struggled for traction, the powerful engine roaring to life as I floored it. My truck peeled out, burning rubber in the ultimate show of brute force.

All around me, I could hear the other trucks doing the same, engines howling as we pushed our rigs to their limits. This was do or die.

“We need to get the first defensive position re-established!” Cayro’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent.

“We’re trying, but they’re pushing us back!” Cameron shouted, the sound of gunfire crackling through his end of the line.

“What do you need to reestablish the first defense line?” I demanded, my mind racing.

“We need a way to punch through their forces!” Cameron’s voice was strained, barely audible over the chaos.

“Got it! Keep the roads clear! Dragon Fleet is rolling in hot!” I announced, switching to the fleet-wide channel. The plan was forming in my mind even as I spoke.

“Jake, Kira, take positions on either side of me. Cain, Abel, and Azura, form up directly behind them. Charlotte, Tyler, and Sasha, follow their lead. Seth, you’re right behind me. We’re forming a heavy rolling barricade and battering ram. Let’s show them what we’re made of!” I ordered, my voice steady and filled with resolve.

“Roger!” came the unified response as everyone moved into position.

We tore past the different defensive positions, our engines roaring like wild beasts, the ground trembling under the weight of our assault. As we reached the second defensive line, I gave the command.

“Spread out into a delta formation!” I ordered, and with military precision, we moved into position just as the enemy line came into view.

We hit them like a freight train, smashing through their ranks with unstoppable force. Soldiers who weren’t fast enough to get out of the way became roadkill, their bodies crushed under our rigs. Blood, guts, and shattered equipment flew everywhere, the trucks becoming weapons of mass destruction.

Rounds ricocheted off our armored trucks, explosions rocked us from all sides, but we didn’t slow down. We pushed through, our combined might forcing the enemy back as the dragons unleashed hell from above.

Reaching the 104 exit, I quickly realized what the Chinese forces were attempting—a second entry point into the city through the exit. They weren’t going to get it.

“Dragon Fleet, create a barricade! They’re trying to use the exit as another way into the city!” I commanded, my voice cutting through the chaos.

We spread out, blocking both lanes and the median, forming an impenetrable wall of steel and fury. Our remote-controlled turrets roared to life, spitting a relentless stream of lead at the enemy. The other units on the front lines rallied behind us, their faces a mix of astonishment and awe.

With suppressive fire covering us, my unit sprang into action, strap winches whining and unloading gear as rounds pinged off our trucks. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the deafening sounds of war.

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“Cut the straps!” I roared, barking out orders to establish our position as Forward Post One. “Scuzball! Play Powerwolf!”

As the first notes of "Wolves of War" blasted across the battlefield, I could hear the sounds of other battles raging through the city. The Chinese had managed to infiltrate through the first entry point, but they weren’t getting any further—not while I still drew breath.

“Lyra, I need you and your unit to hold that position. That is a key entry point into the city,” Cayro’s voice came through my headset, authoritative and urgent.

“Roger, sir,” I replied, my eyes tracking the 77th as they rolled in. Colonel Sirus emerged from the top of one of the tanks, scanning the battlefield. When our eyes met, he gave me a nod—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of our shared purpose in this chaos. I arched an eyebrow, a silent response, just as one of the tanks fired a round that shook the very ground beneath us. The thunderous boom reverberated through my chest, and I caught my breath, the intensity of the moment hitting home.

As I turned to survey the scene, my attention was drawn to a group of soldiers and members of my fleet wrestling one of those ominous black boxes off a trailer. Curiosity piqued, I made my way over, weaving through the chaos of battle.

When the lid of the mysterious box was finally unlatched and removed, I peered into its depths. What I saw was something I had never encountered before—a piece of tech that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie. The device had a sleek, matte black finish with reinforced corners, exuding an air of indestructibility. At the top was an emitter array, faintly glowing with a blue hue, reminiscent of the shield generators aboard the Crescent Moon. The control panel featured a high-resolution display with intuitive controls, functional yet sophisticated—clearly built for war.

Cameron appeared at my side, a grin spreading across his face as he gazed down at the device. “I was wondering when Dad was going to finally field these,” he said, his tone filled with admiration.

“Wait… What? You knew about these?” I demanded, my mind racing to piece together this new information.

“Well, yeah. Ever since the Twilight battle, Dad’s been busting his ass to develop this system. With the magic leaking from the quarantined zone, he’s been shuttling back and forth between SkyTeam and Aberdeen Proving Grounds to get this right. Looks like he’s finally cracked the code on integrating magic with our tech,” Cameron explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Hold on a second. Are you telling me these things are magical?” I asked, more booms from nearby tanks punctuating my words.

“Sort of. They use magic as a power source,” he replied casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I stared at him, my jaw slack with disbelief. Magic as a power source? How was that even possible?

“Wouldn’t a fusion reactor from a skyboard be able to power this?” I questioned, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

Cameron shrugged nonchalantly. “Who knows? The systems aboard the airships demand a hell of a lot of power. I doubt a skyboard reactor could handle it. But honestly, it’s all above my pay grade. Dad’s the one who could tell you the nitty-gritty.” With that, he turned to his unit, barking orders to set up the devices.

As the chaotic symphony of battle continued—bullets pinging off our rigs, chains clattering, and soldiers shouting—I noticed Cameron’s team working quickly, positioning the crates of 120-millimeter rounds for the tanks. The sharp crackle and snap of energy filled the air as the shield generators flared to life, their eerie blue glow casting an otherworldly light over the battlefield. The shields shimmered as rounds slammed into them, the impacts muffled but relentless. One by one, Cameron and his pack brought the generators online, creating a formidable barrier across the front of our fleet.

Above us, Stoneclaw roared, his dragon form cutting through the sky like a living weapon. His signal was clear—unleash hell. The dragons responded in kind, their breath weapons searing through the night, a barrage of fiery destruction that tore into the advancing enemy. Equipment, body parts, and debris were hurled in all directions, followed swiftly by the thunderous booms of the 77th’s tanks, adding to the devastation.

For two grueling hours, we held the line. The cacophony of war surrounded us, a relentless assault on the senses. I moved through the chaos, checking on each member of my pack. The dragons, their energy nearly spent, had shifted back to human form, partnering with their assigned wolves to provide cover fire. Catalina coordinated with the Crescent Moon, her voice steady amidst the turmoil, while Steve and a small army of soldiers distributed reloaded magazines with military precision. Mac, ever resourceful, had transformed the FRS into a makeshift medical area, tending to the wounded with a grim determination.

Amazingly, none of my pack was injured. The Great Luna herself seemed to be watching over us as we dug in and held our ground against the tide of war.

“Lyra, the Chinese are backing off,” Cameron’s voice cut through the static as he trudged over to me, his face smeared with soot and grime from the battle.

I let out a deep breath, relief washing over me, but only briefly. “That’s good. General Zaraki wants us to hold the line. We’re not to advance,” I declared, my voice firm despite the chaos around us.

Cameron nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. “Understood. We’ll regroup and make sure we’re ready for anything else.” With that, he headed off to check on his unit, leaving me to handle the next steps.

Tapping my tablet to radio Colonel Sirus, I waited, my patience wearing thin. His rough, growly voice soon crackled over my headset. “What do you want, Alpha Acosta?” he grumbled, irritation seeping through the connection.

“We’re to hold the line. Don’t advance,” I ordered flatly, trying to keep my temper in check.

“Who made you the battlefield commander?” he grouched, questioning my authority like a petulant child.

“General Zaraki did. Now pull your unit back to the battle line,” I huffed, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Of course, he put a fucking flea bag in charge over a human… On our way,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

I shook my head, pushing aside the irritation, and made my way toward the MCV, passing the FRS. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ironfist skulking away, his coat bulging suspiciously. I arched an eyebrow as a flash of red caught my attention—Mac’s power tools. Before I could confront him, Stoneclaw appeared beside me, his rifle at the low ready, the barrel still smoking.

“Catalina said she was looking for you,” he said, his presence drawing my focus back to the task at hand.

“I was just heading to the MCV. Is everything okay?” I asked, glancing at him.

“Yes, she wants to discuss the next steps,” he conveyed, his tone steady and professional.

“Alright, let’s go figure that out,” I said, turning on my heel and heading to the MCV.

Inside, I found Catalina at her workstation, her eyes fixed on the map of the area. Scuzball, ever the showman, was on her screen, dressed in a formal F.S. Army Class A uniform with a five-star general’s rank. He held a pointer stick, circling points on the map with a no-nonsense attitude.

“As you can see here, the 201 overpasses have been destroyed by the dragons. This effectively stopped the Chinese from using the 201 to access the city and bypassing our barricade,” Scuzball explained, his voice carrying the gravity of the situation as he highlighted the area with a red circle.

I listened as he continued, “We’ve barricaded I-80, but a large enemy unit managed to push into the city before we could block all access points. The 588th, along with other ground units, is engaging them. According to the intel we’ve gathered, the Chinese forces have set up a makeshift command headquarters at the Great Salt Lake State Park building. However, our current orders prevent us from attacking it directly.”

“They’ll plan a counterstrike soon enough,” I said, leaning against Steve’s desk, arms crossed as I processed the situation.

Stoneclaw nodded, agreeing with my assessment. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Seems like we’re all on the same page,” Scuzball added, “but General Zaraki’s orders are clear—we hold our position. He doesn’t want to risk losing the front line again.”

“How far is that building from our location?” I asked, my mind already spinning with possibilities.

“Approximately one point three miles,” Scuzball answered, his voice as precise as ever.

Catalina’s eyes never left the map as she chimed in, “What if we use Colonel Sirus’s tanks as artillery? They’ve got the range to bombard the building from here. That way, we’re still holding position but can disrupt their operations.”

I nodded, the idea taking shape in my mind. “We could use the tanks to soften the target without disobeying orders.”

“It’s risky, but it might be our best option,” Stoneclaw added, his voice carrying the weight of his experience.

I considered it for a moment, then made the call. “Relay the orders to Colonel Sirus. He’s to set up his tanks and begin the bombardment. We’ll stay within our perimeter but tighten defenses on all fronts, especially the west.”

Catalina looked up, concern flashing in her eyes. “What if the Chinese forces take advantage of this and try to hit us while we’re focused on the bombardment?”

The roar of the tanks’ artillery filled the air, their thunderous blasts shaking the ground as they hammered the Chinese command post. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the tide was turning in our favor. The sky lit up with fire, and the enemy’s movements grew frantic, chaotic. I allowed myself a sliver of hope—perhaps we could hold this line after all.

But then, something changed. It started as a low rumble, barely perceptible over the noise of battle. Stoneclaw’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing in concentration. I felt it too, a vibration in the air that didn’t match the rhythm of our artillery.

“Do you hear that?” I asked, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach.

Stoneclaw nodded, his expression darkening. “It’s coming from the east.”

I bolted out of the MCV, my heart pounding as I scanned the eastern horizon. Stoneclaw handed me a set of binoculars, and I quickly raised them to my eyes, scanning the interstate behind us. What I saw sent a chill down my spine.

“What the hell is that?” Stoneclaw’s voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with disbelief.

I zoomed in, my blood running cold as the shapes came into focus. They were moving fast—too fast to be re-enforcements. My breath caught in my throat as realization hit me like a sledgehammer.

“Those aren’t Chinese,” I muttered, dread settling in my chest like a lead weight.

Vehicles, bristling with jagged metal, chains, and mounted guns, sped toward us, their drivers masked and looking like they had stepped straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. The Hell Hounds. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead as the truth became inescapable.

Stoneclaw swore under his breath, his grip tightening on his rifle. “How the hell did they get behind us?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Only one possibility made sense—they must have slipped through the 201 before we arrived. And then I saw him.

Sitting atop the lead vehicle in his wolf form, eyes glowing a malevolent yellow, was Marcus Cross. His twisted grin stretched across his grizzled face as he locked eyes with me, the distance between us doing nothing to dilute the malice radiating from him.

As if on cue, alarms blared through the MCV’s comms, slicing through the tension like a knife. Reports flooded in, frantic voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of fear.

“Multiple contacts on the eastern perimeter! We’re being flanked!”

“Rear guard is under heavy attack! It’s the Hell Hounds!” Seth’s voice was tinged with urgency and fear.

My heart pounded in my chest as the reality of the situation sank in. The plan was unraveling faster than I could react. If we didn’t act immediately, the entire line would collapse.

“Damn it,” I hissed into my headset, anger and desperation lacing my voice. “All units, prepare for an assault! Do not let them break through!”

Stoneclaw was already in motion, his voice a steady, commanding bark as he coordinated the ground forces. “Get those tanks turned around! We need artillery on the rear now!”

But even as orders flew and my team scrambled to respond, I knew it was too late to fully counter the attack. The Hell Hounds had caught us off guard, and they were already tearing through our lines with brutal efficiency. My eyes widened in horror as Colonel Sirus’s position came under intense fire. His tanks were struggling to turn, too slow to react. Cross and his Hell Hounds were closing in fast.

“No, no, no…” I muttered under my breath, feeling the cold grip of inevitability. The slaughter was about to begin, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.