Britney's breath hitched, her entire world shattering as she watched her mother disintegrate before her eyes. One moment Beth stood there—strong, unyielding—the next, nothing but ash. The scream that tore from Britney's throat was raw, inhuman, filled with so much anguish it sent a shudder through the room. Her body trembled, eyes wide with disbelief, fury coiling inside her like a storm ready to burst.
And then it did.
With a vengeful cry, Britney lunged, power exploding from her as she hurled the nearest angel against the cracked walls. The force of impact sent fractures spidering through the plaster, dust billowing in the air. Another angel barely dodged her next attack, but she was relentless. The walls trembled from the sheer force of her fury, and for a split second, she swore she could still hear her mother's voice—whispering, vanishing in the ashes.
She was alone now. Outnumbered. And she knew it.
Without a second thought, Britney spun on her heel and sprinted. The shattered window loomed ahead, shards glinting like teeth in the moonlight. She didn't hesitate—one fluid motion, and she was airborne, vanishing into the night like a ghost.
Wyatt barely had time to react before she was gone, her chilling scream still ringing in his ears. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, eyes locked on the pile of ash at his feet. Beth. Gone. Just like that.
The air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh, magic, and destruction. The once-grand room was now a battlefield—cracked walls, shattered furniture, the lingering charge of supernatural energy hanging in the air. Wyatt's grip on his gun tightened, the blue UV bullets still humming faintly, a reminder of what he'd just done. What he had to do.
"She's gone," Billy's voice cut through the silence. He stepped forward, wings half-folded, scanning the wreckage. "We searched everywhere. She vanished into the night."
Wyatt exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. "Let her go," he said, voice low, raw. "She'll be back. And she won't come alone."
Bastian's expression darkened. He exchanged a glance with Billy. They both knew what this meant. Britney had just lost the one person who tethered her sanity. There was no telling what she'd do now.
Wyatt turned away from the ash, his mind already working ahead. "We need to move. Fast. Because after what I just did, she's coming back with an army."
Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Then, Bastian spoke, voice measured but firm. "Wyatt, we heard what Beth said before she died. About Helena. About the kids."
Wyatt tensed.
"We thought she died of cancer," Billy added quietly.
A bitter laugh left Wyatt's lips, devoid of any real amusement. He ran a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in. "That's what we told them. The kids. We wanted them safe. Away from all this." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if saying it out loud made it worse. "I wanted them to have a normal life."
Billy studied him, arms crossed. "That's no longer an option."
"I know."
Wyatt felt it—an ache deep in his chest. The knowledge that the life he had fought so hard to protect for his children was gone. Shattered the moment he pulled that trigger.
"She knows what they are now," Billy continued, "what they could become. And now, the demons know too."
Wyatt's hands curled into fists. His kids—Matt, Sean, Anastasia—they were exposed. If Britney and the demons came for them now, they wouldn't stand a chance.
"They were always going to find out one way or another," Bastian said, his wings shifting slightly. "But now, they don't have time to ease into it. They need to train."
Wyatt nodded, steel settling in his bones. "That's where you come in, Billy. Helena made sure you'd be here for them. You've been watching them all this time, and now I need you more than ever. My kids need to disappear. They need to learn who they are. They need to be ready. Because once Britney talks… once she tells the demons what happened tonight…" He trailed off, voice dark. "They'll come."
Billy's expression hardened. "Where do you want them?"
"North Manitou Island."
Billy raised an eyebrow. "That place is a ghost town."
"Exactly." Wyatt turned, eyes cold, calculating. "There's a house there. A bunker. Supplies. Weapons. No one will find them. They'll train, away from everything."
Bastian exhaled, the weight of the situation settling. "And you?"
"I'll be right behind you," Wyatt said. "But first, I need to get Anastasia."
Billy hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I'll take Matt and Sean. I'll get them there."
Wyatt handed him the yacht keys. "You'll need to pick Sean up from Massachusetts. I'll arrange a jet."
Billy took the keys without argument. No more discussion. Just action. It was the only thing keeping them all alive.
"There's one more thing," Wyatt said. His voice had that edge again, the one that meant he had just realized something dangerous. "Matt's fraternity? It's not just a bunch of college kids partying. It's a training ground. For hunters. And the sororities? Witches. Good ones."
Bastian's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was," Wyatt muttered. "They've been training for years, keeping under the radar. But they're not ready for this. Not yet."
Billy let out a breath, shaking his head. "We'll get them out."
Wyatt nodded. "Meet me on the island. We'll talk then. But right now, I've got to get Anastasia."
The angels exchanged glances, then, with one last nod, spread their wings and vanished into the night.
Wyatt stood there, alone, surrounded by ruins. The home he had built, destroyed. The life he had fought for, gone. But his children? They were still standing. And as long as he had breath in his body, they would stay that way.
No matter what it took.
The war had just begun.