When Elysian woke from his drug-induced coma, he did not react the way Klaus thought he would. He'd stared blankly up at him; a hand pressed to his belly. With two blinks, Klaus was on his knees.
"I'm sorry. I deserve your anger. I did it to save your mind—"
"She's not dead," Elysian seemed to marvel, hand on his chest. "How?" The rest of the pack inhaled at the sudden rush of joy that seeped into Elysian's face almost as if he were deliriously happy despite the utter chaos of their new world. "Is this?"
"Elysian," Solar mumbled, arms around him. "I know how it feels to be—"
"It's hers?" Elysian pushed him off with a smile, almost glowed with excitement. "Oh," he struggled to stand, and the pack swept forward. "I want to see her—"
Klaus choked out a warning. "Elysian, you need your rest."
And it was then that the quiet, cool anger Klaus expected returned, scathing as it scraped upon his skin. The vampire turned red eyes upon him, eyes that darkened like rubies, like death. Elysian snarled. "Now."
They all stood in her room, watching as Elysian sat by her side, hand reaching to touch hers. The sweetness was alarming; his scent perfumed. Not distraught, not enraged, but filled with sweet, sweet gratitude.
Gratitude.
It spun out of him in waves of butterscotch, jammy yoghurt and milk.
"Quinn," he whispered, fingers laced with hers. He pulled her hand to his lips. There were tears on his eyelashes. She did not move. "Darling, we have a baby now. Will you wake up soon to see him?" He pressed his head to her hand then. "Thank you for staying." And his eyes seemed to froth with more tears, spilling down his cheeks like crystals. "I think I would not have survived if you had not existed in this world."
And it was then distinctly that Klaus was reminded of his father. His father, who'd begged for the Alpha, who had ruined them all. His father who'd died, wailing for a wife he had claimed to hate. And yet, Klaus's hand clung to his heart, felt the boiling waves of the claim, the twisting in his throat.
He was glad Quinn was alive.
*
The world was ending.
Flames licked at the sky, consumed the horizon, painting the once-proud walls of the kingdom in streaks of black and orange. The air was a choking mixture of smoke and ash; every breath felt as if they were swallowing molten heat. Their bodies were boiling. The streets that had been full of life were now littered with rubble and the twisted bodies of the fallen, choking with death, with ink.
Lonely prowled.
Klaus ran anyway.
His boots pounded over stone slick with blood. Quinn was in his arms, limp, her head resting against his shoulder. Her skin was too hot, fever bright in her cheeks, her pulse thrumming faintly through the new bond. But still there, still alive.
Her peach scent filled his nose.
Around him, the world was ending.
Roars shook the air. The Lonely were everywhere now, pouring through the streets like a tidal wave, like a tsunami, their eyes glowing with hunger. They swarmed like water. They tore through soldiers, through homes, through anything that dared stand in their way. Their arrival thundered, quaked, and groaned through the buildings like the crashing sea.
The last of the kingdom was reduced to ruins.
"Right!" Rowan's voice cut through the din.
Klaus swerved, barely dodging a falling beam that crashed into the road. Helios darted ahead on wings, glowing faintly, his magic flickering just enough to hold back the worst of the debris. The glow spluttered, and stone fell, timber snapped. He'd never used that power, it took too much out of him, but for this, he would do anything.
The last of their soldiers flanked their side.
Solar was behind them with a sword in each hand, blood smeared across his face, cutting down anything that came too close. His magic pulsing from him to stop anything that fell. Icarus was limping, gun in one hand, the other pressed to his side, teeth bared as he fired into the shadows. The gunfire shattered the night. Elysian moved with an arm around his belly, but a weapon in the other hand, firing just as rapidly, just as desperately.
The pack was barely holding together, but Klaus knew that if he fell, if Quinn slipped from his grasp, if he slowed. It would all be over. It was time to leave; time to escape. An aircraft had been part of the plan — a helicopter, a plane, anything that could fly. That was until the first one that rose into the sky had attracted a horde so large, they'd toppled it before it had even escaped the vicinity.
They had to leave quietly on foot.
How did it escalate so quickly? Klaus had planned hard and fast for their escape. But now it was too late to think about what he could have done. Right now, he'd transform once they reached the gate, turn into a wolf that could run towards the last outpost in the wastelands.
Hemlock's final outpost was filled with his best and most trusted men. According to the call, the Omegas there had claimed their Alphas, had listened to orders. It was always easier to control the loyal military. Survival rate was high; only fifty percent of the packs there had transformed into Lonely. And those who had turned had all been culled.
They were systematic, cold-blooded and quick with their decisions. They had been lucky. The Lonely's affliction had not infected them just as quickly as it did in the fear-torn city. They ran on rules and stern logical judgement. That had ensured their survival. His men now wait for their arrival.
"Klaus!" Rowan dropped down from a rooftop, his claws extended, his face streaked with soot. He shook free of his wolf form, dark fur disappearing into skin. "They've breached the South gate! We have to move faster. They're swarming."
"We can't move faster!" Klaus snarled back, tightening his grip on Quinn. His arms ached; his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. His mind worked. "We're going North."
Rowan yelled. "That's too far!"
"Just clear the way!" He transformed then, voice breaking through a howl. "We have to make it work." Quinn's body was quickly strapped to his back, and Icarus climbed onto him, holding her still.
Rowan leapt from rooftop to rubble, claws out, hauling Elysian and Solar onto his back without breaking stride. Zen was already ahead, tearing through the first wave of Lonely. Black blood sprayed as his claws sank into their throats. His snarl vibrated through the bond, a warning and a battle cry.
They had to make it.
Azarius castle groaned behind them, collapsing in on itself. Its great banners were curling in the heat, blackening and turning to ash that swam in the air. It was as if the sky were falling. The crumble and bellow of a falling castle was so loud that it momentarily distracted the monsters. His kingdom was gone; bells tolled. The death knell of their lost kingdom.
They didn't look back.
*
They arrived at the outer walls just as another explosion shook the ground. Klaus stumbled, nearly went to his knees, but Zen was there to haul him up. He was always stronger than they were. An explosion vibrated through the ground; screams echoed.
His work.
"Almost there," Icarus yelled. "Just through the gate—"
The gate was gone, so were the walls, merely splinters and smoke. The rubble pooled. But beyond it lay the open wastelands, the dark night stretching out like salvation. Freedom.
But they were hours further from the outpost; they would have to circle the kingdom. It would expand precious resources. It would take two days to reach Hemlock on foot. More if exhaustion slowed them, if Lonely slowed them.
Klaus didn't stop to think. The bond seemed to throb with each step, pulling him forward, pulling them all forward. The moment they crossed into the wastelands, the world seemed to grow quiet. The roar of the flames grew distant, replaced by the whisper of sand, the pounding of his heart, and the faint sound of Quinn's breathing against his throat.
They didn't stop until they were far enough that the fire's light couldn't reach them. Klaus collapsed to his knees, wolf form melting from his skin. He lowered Quinn onto the ground. His arms were shaking so hard he could barely unclench his fingers. He pressed a hand to her head, then to her throat.
The bond pulsed weakly, like a thread fraying at the edges.
"We can't keep running," Icarus said behind him, his voice flat with exhaustion. Klaus looked down at her face, pale and sweat-slick, and something inside him twisted.
The kingdom was gone.
The world was burning.
"We must."
*
The wasteland stretched forever. The sun hung low and red, glaring down like a vengeful God. The air tasted of smoke and metal; every breath was dry, like knives in his throat. Blood pooled on his tongue.
Klaus carried her.
He had carried her for days. His back screamed, but he wouldn't let anyone else take her. The bond made it impossible to put her down for long. He needed to feel her weight, the faint heat of her body, the occasional flutter of her pulse against his chest.
It was his Omega that wanted her there.
The others moved like ghosts around him.
Helios was pale and hollow-eyed, stumbling but refusing to stop scouting in the night, hovering to check for Lonely. Rowan following suit. Elysian walked close, one hand always near Quinn as though to shield her from the sun, the heat, and the wind. Zen scouted ahead, blood still staining his claws, his hair matted with soot. Solar and Icarus stayed at the rear, weapons in hand, watching for Lonely.
The soldiers they brought with them had dwindled from the escape. Just four packs flanked their side, holding on to their own Alphas. They too were dying.
Four days now.
They were almost out of water.
He had not anticipated how much slower they'd be with exhaustion, with the Lonely at their heels, with the conditions of the climate. And they couldn't let those monsters follow them to nirvana, or what was left of it. They had to be careful to keep them away.
Sometimes they saw them in the distance. The Lonely. The thin silhouettes against the horizon, moving strangely, too fast, too fucking desperate. Sometimes they found their tracks in the dust, the claw marks carved into stone, the walls of the caves that sheltered them from the unforgiving storms. Sometimes they heard their cries at night, the haunting sound of creatures wailing for something.
They barely spoke. They didn't want to alert those monsters, but at the same time, their hope dwindled. The wasteland had a way of swallowing words. So instead, they communicated through glances, through the bond, through the tense set of shoulders, and through the rhythm of footsteps.
When they stopped for the night, they made no fire.
Klaus laid Quinn down carefully on a blanket and knelt beside her, brushing the hair from her face. Her skin was cool now, not fever-hot, but the stillness of her body terrified him in a new way.
She should wake up.
"She's holding," Helios whispered, sinking down beside him. He'd spent an hour combing glowing hands over her head. Solar had done the same. The fey tried. They tried to use whatever magic they had left to heal her. "I can still feel her. The bond's there. It's just… quiet. Her thoughts are silent. She's alright."
Klaus nodded, but he said nothing.
He knew what Helios wasn't saying: quiet could mean recovery, or it could mean that her brain was dead. Rowan curled up beside her, his back facing the rest of the world, his head on his arm. For her, he'd transform into his wolf, covering her body with his fur. Elysian lay cuddled in Helios's wings. Solar tending to him, massaging his belly. Zen crouched near the edge of their makeshift camp, eyes glowing faintly as he stared into the dark.
In the distance, the fire of the kingdom continued burning.
Klaus closed his eyes.
*
Hemlock's Outpost was the last place standing, a secret spot, nestled between old cities, huddled on the outskirts where a miraculous oasis still thrived. A small forest, a sea of grass. A lake appeared when the rain was heavy.
It was a good place.
When they stumbled inside the gates, the survivors laughed. Wild, half-hysterical laughter, because they had made it. His mates had tears in their eyes. The soldiers were there to welcome them, medics quickly working on the dehydrated and the malnourished.
And still, Quinn didn't wake.
She remained asleep as they rebuilt, as they worked and prepared. She remained asleep when the ink started climbing up their skin, spreading like wildfire through their veins. Klaus knew now that it was a virus, some kind of disease that could be staunched by the claim of an Alpha. They knew to watch for the signs.
But once again, they were going to die, and there was nothing they could do.
A month later, and finally, Quinn's eyes snapped open.
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