"What is that?" Elara asked, suddenly alert despite the lingering effects of the ritual tea.
"Perimeter alarm," Marlowe said, her expression grim as she checked the device. "Someone has breached the outer boundary of pack territory."
"Viktor's scouts again?"
"No." Marlowe's eyes met Elara's, concern evident in her gaze. "The sensors detect human intruders. Not werewolves."
A chill ran through Elara, her mother's warnings echoing in her mind. "Hunters," she whispered.
The door to the ritual room opened quickly, revealing Cora, her expression tense. "Marlowe, Damon needs you both. Now!"
"What is happening?" the elder demanded, already rising with surprising agility for her age.
"We have detected a security breach," Cora reported, her voice low and controlled. "Sensors picked up an unauthorized entry on the northeast perimeter. Someone deliberately bypassed our outer defenses."
"How did they get through?" Marlowe asked sharply.
"That is the concerning part," Cora said, helping Elara to her feet. The effects of the ritual tea were fading rapidly in the face of adrenaline. But her limbs still felt slightly uncoordinated. "They knew exactly how to avoid our motion detectors and heat sensors. They had detailed knowledge of our patrol schedules."
A chill ran through Elara. "Inside information."
Cora nodded grimly. "Damon thinks the same. Most of our pack is scattered right now. Half are patrolling the borders after spotting Viktor's scouts yesterday. Another group left at dawn on a scouting mission to gather intelligence on Viktor's movements. We are operating with minimal defensive personnel."
"Perfect timing for an attack," Marlowe observed, her expression darkening. "Almost as if they knew."
"Our cameras caught glimpses of the intruders," Cora continued. "One of them has been identified as Jonah Thornwood."
The name made Elara almost stumble.
"How many?" Marlowe asked, her tone hardening.
"A small team, maybe six. But heavily equipped. Thermal imaging shows they are carrying specialized weapons. Silver ammunition, high-frequency sonic devices."
"Those are wolf killers," Marlowe muttered. "Professional hunters."
"Damon has mobilized the pack's defenders," Cora continued. "But he wants Elara moved to the safe room immediately. And he needs your guidance, Marlowe."
The elder nodded. All traces of the gentle ritual guide are gone, replaced by the steely pack authority. "Of course. We should,"
A soft chime from Cora's communication device interrupted. Her expression tightened as she checked the message. "They have breached the outer compound. Someone disabled the secondary alarms from inside."
Marlowe's eyes narrowed. "A traitor."
The realization hung heavy in the air. Not just intruders, but betrayal from within. Someone who knew the pack's defenses intimately enough to guide Thornwood's team past their sophisticated security.
"We need to move," Cora urged, gesturing toward the door. "The tunnels lead to the safe room. Elara will be protected there until we deal with this."
"No," Elara said, surprised by the firmness in her own voice. "Jonah Thornwood is here for me. I would not hide while others fight my battles."
"This is not heroics, Elara," Cora argued. "These are professional hunters with specialized equipment. They know how to kill werewolves, and probably Sirens too."
"All the more reason I should help," Elara insisted. "My voice affected the entire pack at the training grounds. It could be a weapon against these hunters."
"Or it could spiral out of control again," Marlowe cautioned. "You are not trained, not in control of your abilities yet."
Before Elara could respond, the ritual room door opened again. This time it was Damon who entered, his expression grim, alert for danger despite his controlled movements.
"They have penetrated the main house," he reported tersely. "Someone gave them access codes to the security doors. They are methodically searching the east wing now, working their way toward us."
"How much time do we have?" Marlowe asked.
"Minutes. Maybe less." Damon's gaze found Elara. "Thornwood is leading them personally. He is singing your name."
The confirmation sent ice through Elara's veins. "What does he want?"
Damon's expression darkened. "He claims he is here to take you back to Chicago. To face justice for his brother's death." His jaw tightened. "But the equipment they are carrying tells a different story. These are not legal authorities. They are professional hunters."
"He knows what I am," Elara whispered. The realization was terrifying. "But how?"
"That is what concerns me," Damon said. "Only a handful of people know you are a Siren. Even fewer know you are here. Someone has been feeding him information. Precise, detailed information."
A soft sound from above. The subtle click of a door opening where it should not. Then footsteps, too methodical to be pack members, moving directly toward the hidden stairwell to the ritual room.
"They know exactly where we are," Cora breathed, drawing a weapon from beneath her jacket. "This is not random searching. They are being guided right to us."
"I should surrender," Elara said, the words torn from some place of desperation within her. "Before anyone else gets hurt. This is my fight, not yours."
"No," Damon's response was immediate and vehement. "Thornwood is a hunter. His family has hunted supernatural beings for generations. If you surrender, he would not take you to any human justice system. He will use you, exploit your abilities, or kill you outright."
The assessment aligned perfectly with what Elara had just remembered about her mother's warnings. Hunters had pursued her bloodline specifically for centuries, and had perhaps even been responsible for her mother's "accident."
"Then what do we do?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Damon's eyes met hers, fierce and determined. "We fight. Together."
The footsteps above stopped. Then a cold, precise voice called down the stairwell, amplified by the stone walls.
"I know you are down there, Elara Matthews," the voice said calmly. "Or should I say, the last Siren of the Lyra bloodline?"
Jonah Thornwood had found her. And he knew exactly what she was.
The pendant at Elara's throat began to warm again. She looked from Damon to Marlowe to Cora, seeing in their faces not just concern, but resolve. They were prepared to fight for her, to protect her. Not because she was valuable or useful, but because she was under their protection.
In that moment, something shifted within Elara. The fear that had dominated her life, that had kept her running and hiding for years, gave way to something new. Something stronger.
Aethel Lyra Sanguis Luna. The oath of her bloodline, the words her ancestor had spoken in her vision, whispered through her mind.
She was the last of the Lyra Sirens. And she was done running.