The road through the city was hell, glass ground under their boots. Burned-out cars sagged into each other like exhausted animals, and the smell was wrong, not just smoke, not just rot.
They moved single file through side streets strangled by ferns and creeping vines already reclaiming pavement. The apocalypse had barely begun, and nature was already opportunistic.
Rose led, blade out. Chin high. Tail low and steady.
Felicity followed close enough to brush her shoulder if she reached out.
Victor and Finch took the rear.
Victor did not speak.
He watched everything.
Above them, a hawk spiralled in lazy loops against a pale sky. Too steady and too consistent, it wasn't hunting rats; it was tracking movement.
Felicity felt it.
Always at the edge of vision. Always watching. A few blocks from the playground, the city shifted. Silence tightened.
Felicity's ears flicked back.
Boots, not shuffling, tiles and rocks scraping under careful weight.
Victor's hand came up instantly. Two fingers at his lips.
They melted into the shadow beneath the overhang of a strip mall. Glass crunched underfoot as they crouched, windows shattered above. Signage hung loose overhead. The smell of stale sugar drifted from the bakery nearby.
Rose crouched at the broken glass. "There," she whispered, voice tight with focus.
Across the street, movement, and so they waited.
Felicity's fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife.
Victor stepped in behind her, not touching, hovering, protecting.
Close enough that she could feel his body heat through the leather jacket, his pulse was slow, not even nervous, anticipating. That steadiness calmed her more than it should have, then the group stepped fully into view.
Eight.
No.
Ten.
All beastmen.
Antlers sawed short and rough. Tusks protruding through cracked lips. Horns spiralling tight to skulls and patchwork pelts stitched into jackets, claws filed sharp, tails twitching with suppressed energy. They did not look confused or afraid; they looked organised.
Two broke off immediately, scaling an awning with rifles slung over their shoulders. The rest spread without speaking, taking corners, covering doors, controlling angles. They weren't wandering, they were executing a sweep.
Felicity's stomach dropped. They had been found, if Victor hadn't heard them first. If Victor hadn't been well, Victor.. They would already be dead. The leader stepped forward, a wolf, no mistaking it. Crooked ears, a thick neck, a jaw like a slab of stone, and an old ANZAC vest hung from his shoulders, medals clinking softly as he walked; his eyes were bright, too bright, Mean.
He grinned at Victor.
"Come out, Silver," he called lazily. "We brought Maccas."
Victor didn't hesitate; he stepped into the light, wings folded tight, shoulders loose, and hands empty but ready "You're early," he replied, not smiling.
The wolf barked a laugh and approached, boots crunching over glass, but his eyes didn't stay on Victor; they slid, passed him and went to Felicity.
The others followed suit. Quick glances at first, then longer ones, pen and even blatant, counting her or measuring, evaluating.
A rangy man with shaved antlers stared too long.
Victor shifted half a step, his body moving just enough to block the man's direct line of sight to Felicity.
The antlered man looked away immediately.
The wolf's gaze snagged on Rose next; it lingered, not leering, but assessing. Like he was studying whether she would bite back, "Didn't think you'd show up with women," the wolf said. "Figured we'd drag you out sooner or later."
Victor shrugged faintly, "Sometimes things fall into your lap." As he spoke, he moved again, this time deliberately. He stepped fully in front of Felicity. Not subtle, his shoulders cast her in shadow, a sound left his chest, low and not loud enough to echo. But deep enough that the men closest stiffened, it wasn't a growl, but it was a warning; the message landed.
They pressed closer anyway, some of them couldn't help it, their nostrils flared and eyes sharpening. One of the smaller ones at the back muttered under his breath, "Fuck. They're real."
Rose's lip curled "What's the problem?" she snapped, "Never seen a woman before?"
A man near the front let out a short laugh.
"Seen plenty," he said, "haven't seen many still breathing."
Another added, "Not since the first wave."
The wolf silenced them with a low growl and a raised hand.
He inhaled slowly, deeply. His eyes slid back to Felicity. "You can smell it," he said quietly. "Can't you?" Murmurs of agreement. Felicity felt Victor's body change in front of her. Subtle, but his spine straightened; wings twitched once. His hand reached back without looking and wrapped around her wrist. Firm and possessive, subtly claiming.
The wolf's gaze dropped to that grip. "So," he said, "that little fox yours?"
Victor's answer was immediate.
"She's mine."
The wolf studied him for a long moment, then nodded once in respect, acknowledging a line drawn. "She smells like warmth," the wolf said, voice lower now. "Like something that hasn't been burned out yet." His eyes flicked to the others "You've all seen it."
The murmurs turned darker.
"Most of the women we found didn't make it past the first few hours, because they changed wrong or they didn't change at all." The wolf looked back at Felicity "We've swept four blocks, two shopping centres, and a train station," he held up three fingers "Three living women do the math."
Not one to a hundred, not a statistic, just what they had seen.
Felicity's throat tightened, "That doesn't mean..."
"It means something's skewed," the wolf cut in calmly. "Either they died faster, or they were targeted first." His eyes flicked to the men around him, "or they're being hunted."
Silence.
Victor's grip tightened around her wrist. Too tight. She felt it. It hurt. His breathing had changed, now slower.
The wolf noticed. "Relax, Silver," he said mildly. "We're not here to steal what's yours. Victor shifted his wings slightly outward, adopting a defensive posture.sive.
"But you can't protect her alone," the wolf continued. "Not long term."
Victor's eyes went cold "Watch me."
The air between them sharpened, and Finch suddenly stiffened.
Across the street, a hulking Kangaroo beastman had turned fully toward Rose. Grey skin, thick and plated. A metal nose stud glinted in the light. Silver dust drifted lazily between his fingers like metallic pollen. "Name's Giddy," he said.
Rose didn't flinch.
Giddy's gaze dragged down her frame. "You think those twigs back there can protect you?" he taunted, jerking his chin toward Finch.
Finch neither smiled nor joked. He stepped forward. "Let's see." His tone was flat.
Giddy grinned wide enough to show flattened molars.
They moved off without another word, leaving Felicity, Victor and Rose.
The wolf? The wolf began to circle slowly, up close; his scars were more obvious. Teeth marks along his shoulder. A knife wound that had healed crooked near his collarbone. A black tattoo disappearing behind one ear, his scent was heavy.
Dominant and intoxicating, "so what's the plan, Silver?" he asked "You hide her? keep her under your wing?"
Victor did not move "Careful," he said softly.
The wolf smiled. "I am being careful," he said, leaning slightly to see around Victor.
Victor shifted instantly, rather than taking a step. His wings flared half open. The rumble in his chest deepened, vibrating the broken glass at their feet.
Several of the men stiffened, instinct recognising instinct.
"She's not a resource," Victor said, voice low and final.
The wolf tilted his head,"Everything is a resource now."
"She isn't."
The wolf's eyes narrowed slightly "And if something happens to you?"
Victor's gaze did not waver. He was calm. "Then it dies," he said, not dramatic or loud, just stating a fact.
The wolf studied him again. Then he nodded once. "Good," he said. "Because that's the only answer I respect." He stepped back. Not retreating, just re-balancing. "We're pushing toward the river line," he said. "Setting up a perimeter along the hospital grid. If you want to survive longer than a week, you'll need alliances." His gaze dropped to Felicity again. "But you're right about one thing."
Victor's jaw tightened "She's not something you share."
"But you better understand something too."
The wolf's voice lowered "Men are already noticing" around them, and the other beastmen shifted, restless. Hungry in ways that had nothing to do with food.
Victor's hand slid from Felicity's wrist to her waist, pulling her almost flush against his back. His wings spread, not to fly but to block. "You're staring," he said quietly.
Several of the men looked away instantly.
The wolf smiled faintly, "Good," he murmured. "You feel it too."
Victor's pupils narrowed feral, not soldier, now not strategist, but an animal.
The wolf raised both hands slowly, "We're not your enemy."
Victor did not lower his wings, "then don't act like one."
The silence stretched.
Then from down the street, a shockwave cracked the air.
Giddy roared.
Finch answered with a laugh that didn't sound entirely sane.
The moment snapped.
The wolf glanced toward the sound. "Looks like introductions are over."
His eyes returned to Felicity one last time. He fixed Victor with a hard look. "Keep her breathing. For all our sakes."
Victor did not respond; he was too busy watching every man within ten meters of her—counting threats, mapping exits. His thumb pressed into the small of her back unconsciously, marking, claiming, and warning. When the wolf finally turned away, taking his men to regroup with the fight unfolding down the block, Victor let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
Victor did not relax; he waited.
Until every last scent had faded, only then did his wings fold back in slowly. But his hand never left her waist.
Not once.