Cassius did not like surprises.
And right now, the entire mission was unraveling into one.
The underground storage vault still echoed with the metallic clatter of spent bullets settling across the stone floor. The air carried the sharp smell of gunpowder, thick and bitter in the confined chamber.
Across from them, the hooded figure stood exactly where she had been moments before.
Calm.
Still.
Untouched.
Cassius narrowed his eyes as he studied her.
The staff rested loosely in her hand, its twisted wooden shaft rising like frozen vines toward the clawed tip that cradled the glowing cerulean orb. The light from that orb pulsed softly, faint but steady, casting cool reflections across the stone floor.
Around him, his men shifted uneasily.
A few exchanged glances.
Others kept their rifles trained forward.
The unease spreading through the group irritated Cassius.
He wasn't about to let a single cloaked woman derail the entire operation.
"Reload," he said flatly.
His voice cut through the tension.
The mercenaries snapped back to attention immediately, hands moving to magazines as they scrambled to swap out the empty clips they had just emptied into the barrier.
Metal clicked.
Magazines slammed home.
Rifles lifted again.
Across the room, the hooded woman chuckled softly.
It wasn't mocking.
Not quite.
More like mild amusement.
"Well," she said calmly, "let's see if the second attempt goes any better."
The men opened fire again.
But this time the battle did not remain stationary.
The woman moved.
Not quickly in the conventional sense.
There was no frantic scrambling or desperate dodging.
Instead her body shifted with a strange fluid grace, as if she had already anticipated every movement happening around her.
Her staff lifted slightly.
At the same moment her free hand rose, fingers curling inward.
A mercenary near the front of the formation suddenly lifted off the ground.
His feet kicked wildly in the air as invisible force seized him like a rag doll.
"What the—"
The man didn't finish the sentence.
The woman flicked her wrist.
The mercenary flew sideways through the air and slammed hard into two of his teammates, knocking all three of them sprawling across the stone floor.
Gunfire rattled through the chamber again.
The hooded figure rotated the staff once in her palm.
A smaller circle of glowing blue symbols snapped into existence beside her shoulder.
The runes spun rapidly, forming a thin disc of energy just large enough to intercept the incoming bullets.
The rounds slowed the instant they touched the surface, their momentum dissolving like stones sinking through thick honey before they dropped harmlessly to the floor.
Another mercenary rushed forward, trying to close the distance while she focused elsewhere.
Her off hand flicked toward him.
Invisible force struck his chest like a battering ram.
The man lifted completely off the ground and flew backward through the air, sliding across the stone floor until he slammed against the open doorway they had come through.
The woman didn't even look in his direction.
Her attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Two men approached from opposite sides.
Their rifles raised.
She turned the staff sideways and thrust it forward.
Both men jerked violently off their feet at the same time.
Their bodies lifted into the air before smashing into each other midair with a heavy thud.
The impact knocked the rifles from their hands as they tumbled to the floor in a tangled heap.
Cassius watched all of it unfold with growing disbelief.
She wasn't attacking them like someone trying to kill.
She was herding them.
Redirecting.
Pushing them toward the exit.
The realization annoyed him.
One of the mercenaries attempted to sneak around behind her while she lifted another man into the air.
His boots moved carefully across the stone.
He raised his rifle quietly.
The woman sighed.
Without even turning around, she lifted her free hand slightly.
The air rippled.
The mercenary's body suddenly flew backward like he had run headfirst into an invisible wall.
He crashed into a stack of crates beside the doorway, scattering wooden debris across the floor.
"Please," the woman said mildly, "try to keep this orderly."
Her staff spun once again.
Another telekinetic pulse slammed two more mercenaries sideways across the chamber, sending them sliding toward the exit.
Bullets continued striking the defensive discs she conjured with her hands.
Each one slowed instantly before dropping uselessly to the ground.
She moved with effortless control.
Staff guiding the larger motions.
Hands weaving smaller barriers and pulses of force between attacks.
The entire scene felt less like a desperate fight and more like a choreographed dance.
A controlled funnel of pressure guiding the intruders steadily toward the door they had entered through.
Cassius felt irritation creeping under his skin.
This was not how the night was supposed to unfold.
The woman glanced briefly toward the ceiling as another distant firework exploded above the castle.
The muffled boom echoed through the stone chamber.
"Ah," she said lightly.
"This is indeed very beautiful."
She glanced back at the mercenaries now scrambling to recover their footing.
"I must say," she continued conversationally, "the fireworks are quite convenient."
Her staff flicked again.
Another mercenary flew backward across the floor.
"With all that noise outside," she added, "I can really let loose down here."
Two more men attempted to rush her simultaneously.
Both froze midair before slamming into opposite walls.
She sighed again.
"Though admittedly," she continued, "it would be much easier if I had a license to kill."
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Oh well."
Her staff tapped lightly against the floor.
"Maybe another time."
Cassius clenched his jaw.
The battle was already lost.
His men were experienced enough to realize it too.
One by one they began retreating toward the doorway, abandoning the idea of overpowering the cloaked mage.
"Fall back," one of them shouted.
The group surged toward the exit.
For the first time in the encounter they abandoned stealth entirely.
Boots pounded against the stone as they rushed up the staircase and burst back into the upper storage room.
Cassius was the last one through the door.
Behind him the hooded figure remained standing calmly at the far end of the vault.
The moment the final mercenary crossed the threshold, the door behind them glowed faintly blue.
Then it slammed shut.
The heavy lock clicked into place with a sharp metallic snap.
The men stood in the supply area breathing heavily.
Some leaned against crates.
Others checked their weapons in frustrated silence.
Outside, the pyrotechnicians froze in shock at the sudden appearance of armed men rushing out of the storage building.
One of them reached for a phone.
"Hey—what the hell—"
A rifle snapped upward instantly.
"Don't," one of the mercenaries warned.
The technicians froze.
Hands raised slowly.
Cassius stepped forward, his mind racing.
His plan had been airtight.
Scout the entrance.
Enter the vault.
Retrieve the artifacts.
Plant the explosives.
Destroy the castle.
Then kill the triplets.
Every step accounted for.
So how had it gone wrong this quickly?
He stared back at the glowing storage door.
Since when did the Thornes enlist mages?
The thought irritated him more than anything else.
His mind churned through possibilities.
Then the night split open with a sound that froze every man present.
A howl.
Deep.
Raw and animalistic.
It echoed across the castle grounds like a blade cutting through the night air.
Cassius slowly lifted his head toward the sky.
The full moon hung bright above the castle towers.
For a long moment he said nothing.
Then he muttered in a long disappointed sigh under his breath.
"Oh… fuck me."
He knew that sound.
He had spent years hunting werewolves.
Years studying them.
Understanding their instincts.
Understanding the difference between an experienced wolf and something far more dangerous.
An inexperienced one.
A fresh transformation.
A young wolf with no control.
No discipline.
Just raw instinct and violence.
The howl echoed again across the night.
Cassius exhaled slowly.
He hadn't forgotten the full moon, of course not.
The Thorne triplets were veterans; they were experienced werewolves if Cassius had to credit them.
if anything, they would handle a full moon without losing control.
That part of the equation had never worried him.
But this?
This howl meant something else.
Someone new.
Someone untrained.
And a rabid beast was far worse than a controlled one.
Because instinct could not be predicted.
And unpredictability destroyed even the best plans.
Cassius looked around at his men.
For the first time that night, uncertainty crept into his thoughts.
And somewhere within the island…
The wolf howled again.