-November-
Once she was able to gather her bearings, Lyra took in the scene before her. The brick warehouse-like building was partially demolished with embers and small flames scattered around. Random sparks from severed electrical wires and water bubbling from broken pipelines. There were dozens of uniformed and naked bodies scattered everywhere. The stench of gunpowder lingered and the blood, smoke and engine exhaust permeated their senses. Wolves in both human and animal form were tending to the wounded and searching the facility. Not a single person stood by idly, even after the battle was won.
The freed prisoners were led through the compound's rubble and outside, walking toward the parking lot. Lyra glanced at the courtyard. There, in the center was a cage for some of their sick games. Usually fights. The only upside, if it could even be called that, was it was the only activity located outside. Her jaw ticked at seeing the fortified bars perfectly intact as the world around it crumbled. She wanted to melt it down somehow, watch it turn into a shapeless molten lump. Ruben tugged her gently. He glared at the cage, communicating his shared contempt before following their rescuers.
Their adrenaline was pumping, they wanted to run badly and to fight. But there was no need except for their own enjoyment at this point. And all but Dana were slightly anxious with how this new pack would react to the nonmembers. So they composed themselves and continued walking along in silence, choosing instead to enjoy the view of their hell up in ashes and their enemy vanquished.
{Gibbous Peak pack. At least it's not Basel Peak pack.}
Lyra cringed at the memory triggered by her wolf's words, then retorted, {You're saying you'd rather we remain imprisoned than be rescued by Basel Peak?}
Loba reasoned, {It would be a death sentence. We've survived this long. It would suck to die on the day of freedom.}
Lyra chucked, her wolf wasn't wrong. It was a pointless hypothetical banter anyway.
Once they reached the parking lot, the little group stopped. Ruben kept his assuring grip on Lyra's hand. Though, he probably felt just as much comfort from her as she did from him. Taking deep, steady breaths, they both scanned their surroundings. Most of the wolves didn't seem interested in them, only granting them a curious glance before continuing their duties. That was a good sign.
Now standing amongst civilized people, their appearance became evident. Although werewolves were accustomed to nudity due to shifting, when in human form, they preferred to be clothed in a normal human manner. While locked up and abused, these five were wearing dirty, bloodstained and torn tunics, much akin to hospital gowns. Lyra turned toward her companions and saw that Frank was already naked. He probably ditched his tunic before ascending the stairs, or even before exiting his cell. Lyra recalled with amusement how the hunters fought with Frank to keep him clothed when he first arrived. As if those rags could be considered clothing. Garrett, the youngest prisoner at fourteen years old, was gripping his tunic's hem tightly. He seemed to be in an internal debate whether he should follow Frank's example or remain semi-clothed like the others.
Perhaps because Lyra and Ruben had been imprisoned the longest, they didn't bother to care about their appearance. They were alive and breathing the crisp November air. Everything else was insignificant.
Dana had already changed into an oversized t-shirt. Since it reached below her knees, it was probably her mate's. From the moment the prison cell door unlocked those two had been glued together, walking like a single four-legged being. Her head barely reached his armpit, but it made for no awkwardness in their synchronicity.
The parking lot had several military grade Humvees and supply trucks, a few were smoking or severely damaged. Near the road, there were several black SUVs parked with the engines running. The layer of ash was minimal and there was no damage. It looked like they pulled up after the battle was won.
Standing on top of a tan Humvee with slashed tires, stood a gorgeous man in his mid-twenties with his arms crossed, surveying the aftermath. His raven hair was styled loosely and a few strands swayed near his piercing eyes. The eye color of werewolves varied from black to brown to hazel, with the occasional amber. This man was barely characterized as the latter since the brightness of his amber eyes reached a color that seemed to glow golden. A striking contrast to his olive skin and dense, arched eyebrows. He was one of the few wolves who were clothed, meaning he was skilled enough to fight in human form without shifting. Fitted dark blue jeans and a grey button down shirt hugging his upper chest with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows showed off his muscular build. The bodily proportions were godly, along with his angular facial features. He would look quite elegant if it weren't for the blood splatter. Intentionally or not, his aura was one of pure power and intimidation. He was, without a doubt, the Alpha.
Another clothed man with brown hair, tied in a loose man bun, jogged past the prisoners. He slowed as he neared the Alpha. He spoke to the approaching man in a deep clear voice, without so much as looking his way.
"Any casualties?"
"No, Alpha. Thirteen are badly injured, but Doc says they'll all pull through."
"Hm." The Alpha grunted in response. "And Dana?"
"I'm here, Alpha Cedric!" Dana shouted with a wave rising out of her mate's hold on her.
{It can't be..?!} Lyra asked Loba as she began involuntarily trembling, {Is it him?}
Loba was anxious and whimpering, {I don't know! I don't want to know! But if we run now, it will cause suspicion. }
Lyra attempted to calm herself and her wolf, {We need to remain calm, be invisible, even in plain sight. Just in case.}
Her wolf added hastily, {No eye contact!}