Chapter 4

Blackridge Stadium was a cauldron of noise. The marching band blared an off-key rendition of "Eye of the Tiger," while two thousand locals screamed for blood. The floodlights turned the rain into sheets of silver.

Kade and Elara moved through the crowd under the bleachers. Kade wore a baseball cap pulled low; Elara had her hood up.

"The drop point is the equipment shed behind the north end zone," Elara whispered into her headset—a burner phone earbud.

"I see it," Kade said. "It's exposed."

"It's the only place without cameras," she replied.

They weaved through the concession lines. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs made Kade’s stomach rumble, but his wolf was too agitated to eat. The scent of *Ash* was here, faint but present, woven into the damp air.

They reached the shed. It was a corrugated metal shack used for storing tackling dummies.

"Chimera?" Elara hissed into the darkness of the shed.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, wearing a long raincoat. He held a scanner in his hand.

"Do you have the drive?" the man asked.

Elara stepped forward. "Code phrase first."

" The iron breaks the bone," the man said smoothly.

Elara relaxed. She reached into her pocket.

Kade didn't relax. He was staring at the man’s shoes. They were expensive. Italian leather. Not the shoes of a rogue defector living on the run.

And the smell. Under the rain, the man smelled of... chalk dust. And old coffee.

Kade’s eyes widened. He knew that smell. He smelled it every time he got sent to the office for fighting.

"Elara, don't!" Kade shouted.

He lunged, tackling Elara just as the man raised a silenced pistol.

*PFFT.*

A bullet sparked off the metal shed where Elara’s head had been a second ago.

Kade rolled, dragging Elara behind a stack of blocking sleds.

"It's Vance!" Kade yelled. "The Principal!"

"What?" Elara gasped.

"Principal Vance," the man called out, his voice calm and authoritative, stepping into the light. He wasn't trying to hide anymore. "Mr. Kade. I must say, your attendance record has been poor this week."

Vance smiled, and his eyes shifted. Not gold. Red. An Alpha.

"You were right, Elara," Kade realized, his heart hammering. "The school is a farm. And he’s the farmer."

"Hand over the drive," Vance commanded. "And I'll make your deaths quick. Or... don't. And I'll send you back to the Camp. I hear they have new toys."

Suddenly, the stadium lights died.

All of them.

The crowd screamed. The band stopped playing. The darkness was absolute, save for the emergency exit signs casting a blood-red glow on the rain.

"Lockdown initiated," Vance’s voice echoed in the dark. "Get them."

From the shadows of the bleachers, a dozen shapes emerged. Not students. Not janitors. Mercenaries. Fully shifted wolves in tactical vests.

"Run," Kade whispered.

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