POV: Silas

The red door had no handle on the inside.

Silas knew that before he saw it.

He could smell six frightened women beneath the disinfectant, mold, and hot metal of the underground corridor. Their fear moved through the concrete in separate rhythms. One cried without sound. One whispered a prayer. One had been drugged so heavily her heartbeat stumbled.

His wolf wanted the door gone.

Briar raised a closed fist.

Silas stopped.

State officers filled the laundry tunnel behind them. Independent medics waited at the entrance. Body cameras recorded every wall, every lock, every person found inside.

The public building above had looked harmless. Pale walls. Inspirational posters. A receptionist who insisted the old wing had been sealed for years.

Then Ronan found fresh tire marks behind the laundry dock.

Silas found Kara's scent on a service elevator.

The elevator required a key from Harlow's ring.

Now the red door waited at the bottom.

Briar pointed to the keypad. “We need the code.”

Ronan examined the frame. “Or a mechanic.”

“Can you open it without destroying the locking record?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two minutes.”

From beyond the door came a woman's scream.

Silas placed one hand against the steel.

“You have ten seconds.”

“That is not how locks work.”

“Nine.”

Ronan dropped to the access panel. “I miss when your mate was here to supervise you.”

An alarm sounded above them.

Someone had discovered the search team.

The lights went out.

Emergency bulbs painted the corridor red.

“They're killing power to the lower wing,” an officer said.

The ventilation slowed.

Behind the door, the women began pounding.

Silas smelled gas.

Not fuel. Anesthetic.

“Move,” he said.

Briar heard it in his voice. “What?”

“They're pumping something through the vents.”

“Ronan, preserve what you can. Silas—open it.”

Permission was the last thread holding his wolf.

Silas drove his shoulder into the door.

Steel screamed. The frame cracked but held.

He hit it again.

Bolts tore from concrete. The red door fell inward with a sound like thunder.

The first orderly waited behind it with a stun baton.

Silas caught his wrist before the weapon landed. Bone shifted beneath his grip.

He remembered Evelyn saying, Bring them back.

Not Kill everyone who hurt them.

He turned the man face-first to the floor and let Briar cuff him.

“Exceptionally respectful,” Ronan said as he stepped over the broken door.

“Find the ventilation controls.”

The underground wing contained eight rooms, a treatment bay, and an observation booth hidden behind mirrored glass. Cameras watched every bed. Restraints were fixed to six of them.

Kara stood in the corridor holding a metal tray like a weapon.

She was thinner than her missing-person photograph. Her dark hair had been cut close to her scalp. A hospital gown hung from one shoulder, exposing yellow bruises along her arm.

“Are you Silas?” she asked.

He stopped several feet away.

“Yes.”

“Evelyn said an Alpha would come.”

“Evelyn found you. I only broke the door.”

Kara's grip loosened.

“There are five others. June can't walk. Marta doesn't speak English. Callie bites.”

“Good for Callie,” Briar said.

Kara almost smiled.

State officers cleared each room while medics moved in. One woman hid under a bed and screamed whenever a uniform approached. Briar removed her badge and jacket, set them outside the room, and crawled beneath the bed alone.

“My name is Briar,” she said from the floor. “I am not going to pull you out.”

The woman kicked at the wall.

“Good,” Briar said. “Keep your feet between us. You decide when I come closer.”

Ronan knelt outside the doorway, his usual grin gone. He removed the knife from his belt and slid it down the corridor before the woman could see it.

“Tell her the loud one left,” he whispered.

“The loud one is trying to whisper,” Briar said.

A broken laugh came from beneath the bed.

Several minutes later, a pale hand reached out. Briar took it only after asking.

The woman emerged biting hard enough into a folded blanket to leave teeth marks.

“Callie?” Kara called from the hall.

Callie lifted her head.

Kara sat on the floor so they were level. She did not touch her. She simply remained there until Callie crawled into the corridor.

Rescue was not a door opening.

Sometimes it was the long distance between a bed and a hallway.

Ronan restored the exhaust fans before the gas concentration became dangerous.

Silas found June in the treatment bay.

An IV ran into her arm. A man in a white coat stood beside the bed with a syringe at her throat.