The warehouse was a carcass.
Rusted steel ribs poked into the night sky. It stood deep in the Grey Zone, smelling of old oil, salt, and bad decisions.
Ravenna hated it. The space was too open and way too cold.
She felt like a candle flame in a hurricane.
"They're here," Asher breathed.
He pulled her behind a stack of corroded barrels. His green eyes scanned the catwalks above.
"Not Nyzor. Not yet. It's them. Both of them."
Ravenna felt the truth hit her gut.
The Mate Bond didn't hum anymore. It screamed. It felt like a fishhook in her chest, being pulled in three different directions.
Emin's heavy, hot dominance fought against Damaris's cold, scalpel-sharp logic.
"They set a trap," she whispered. Her voice shook.
"Of course they did. They're lords," Asher said. He didn't sound worried. Just focused.
"They can't stand to chase. They only know how to claim. I knew they'd beat us here."
He pulled two silver blades from his belt.
"I can take one of them. Maybe two if I get lucky. But you're running. Right now. Fire escape through the back wall. Don't look back."
"No."
Ravenna grabbed his arm. Her fingers dug into the worn leather.
Exhaustion and terror warred with a sudden, fierce defiance.
"I'm not leaving you to fight them over me. I'm not a prize, Asher."
A deep, resonant snarl shook the corrugated walls.
"Hybrid!"
It was Emin. He roared, his voice echoing throughout the vast space.
His voice boomed through the warehouse, heavy with angry authority.
"Release the rogue! Surrender to your Mate!"
From the shadows of the catwalk, a second voice cut through the noise. A voice that carried calm like water in a pitcher and that expressed annoyance.
"Cease your display, Alpha. The girl requires stability, not volume."
Damaris the Black stepped into the light.
"Ravenna. Your chaos is jeopardizing the prophecy. Submit, and I will secure your power."
They were sandwiched.
Asher laughed. A short, sharp bark of sound. He showed no concern at all about their positions.
"Well, that settles it. Good cop, bad cop. And the only thing they agree on is that you need a leash."
He shoved a small, silver dagger into her trembling hand.
"Run, Ravenna. Use your chaos to buy time."
But Ravenna didn't move.
She stood rigid. Suffocating under the weight of their expectations.
Emin wanted to break her. Damaris wanted to own her. Asher wanted to use her.
The despair crashed over her head like a wave.
She didn't want to choose. She didn't want to run. She wanted them all to stop.
"No!"
She screamed it. The sound echoed off the steel.
"I am not yours! I am not a weapon! I am not a trophy!"
Clatter.
She threw the dagger to the concrete floor.
The rebellion shattered the dam.
The surge of energy wasn't a blast. It was a scream made of magic.
A wave of shimmering silver-black force slammed outward from her core. It wasn't just power. It was pure, unfiltered emotion.
Lycan rage. Witch despair. All magnified by the three-way Mate Bond.
The effect was instant. Crippling.
Emin charged forward.
Wham.
He staggered. He fell to his knees.
He wasn't physically hit. But his mind was flooded with things he never felt: Fear. A yearning for freedom. Cold, icy calculation.
He roared, clutching his head in total confusion.
Damaris was in the middle of casting a binding spell.
The spell dissolved into sparks.
His shielded mind was suddenly overwhelmed. Hot, messy rage. Territorial instinct. Cynical mistrust.
He fell back against a pillar, eyes wide with shock.
Asher dropped instantly.
He gagged, his body seized by a pain that wasn't his. The agony of primal rejection. The freeze of logical detachment.
Ravenna stood in the eye of the storm.
She didn't feel pain. She felt them.
The Alpha's rigid shame. The Warlock's cold frustration. The Rogue's desperate need for distance.
All of it cycling back into her heart.
For a terrifying moment, she understood them completely.
Then, the surge collapsed.
The four of them were left scattered and gasping.
Linked by a new, agonizing thread of shared sensation.
Emin lifted his head. His gaze found Ravenna.
The fury was still there. But now it was laced with the sting of Damaris's logic and Asher's cynicism.
"What did you do?" Emin rasped. His voice was broken. "What did you bind us to?"
The answer came from the entrance.
Whir-click.
The silence was shattered by a low, mechanical grinding noise.
The temperature in the warehouse dropped.
A massive figure stepped into the weak light.
This wasn't a stealth hunter. It was a meat grinder.
Humanoid, but too large. Encased in dark metal that was lined with jagged, yellowed Lycan bone. It carried a massive energy caster arm.
One of Nyzor's combat drones.
Ravenna's despair had given it a perfect lock.
It paused. Its single red eye scanned the room.
"Target identified," a synthetic voice echoed. "Prophecy Key confirmed. Retrieval protocol initiated."
The drone raised its weapon. The barrel began to glow.
The threat was immediate.
The three men were still recovering. Their minds were bleeding into each other.
But instinct is faster than thought.
Emin scrambled up. He threw himself in front of Ravenna. A living shield.
Damaris snapped out of his shock. He threw up a hand, conjuring a fragile, shimmering ward around the group.
Asher was already moving. He darted toward the flank, aiming for a weak point in the armor plating.
Ravenna watched them.
The Alpha. The Warlock. The Rogue.
Working as a spontaneous, messy, utterly necessary unit. To save her.
She lifted her hands.
She summoned the last dregs of her chaotic power. She aimed it right at the drone's glowing weapon.
She wouldn't be a sacrifice.
She would be the cannon.
The confrontation had just turned into a war.