Chapter 6

POV: Mira

The air in the Human Quarters thrummed with an energy that both terrified and exhilarated me. It whispered of change while threatening destruction.

I pulled my scarf tighter as I moved through the narrow streets. The protest noise swelled, voices mixing with sweat, smoke, and fear. My pulse quickened—not just from the tension but from the distinct feeling of being watched.

The sensation had lingered for blocks, an itch I couldn’t shake. I glanced over my shoulder, but the crowded streets revealed nothing unusual. Still, unease gnawed at me.

I quickened my pace, slipping into side alleys. Yet the feeling persisted. My eyes darted to the rooftops, half-expecting to see a drone’s red light slicing through the darkness. There was nothing.

Nothing visible, anyway.

I turned another corner, and the roar of the crowd hit me like a force. I’d reached the heart of the storm. Bodies pressed together, fists raised, faces alight with anger and defiance.

“Freedom for all!”

“Burn the chains!”

“Rise, phoenix, rise!”

The chants rolled over me, stirring something deep—a mix of hope and dread. The crowd’s fervor was infectious, but so was the tension, a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I scanned frantically, heart sinking as I spotted Jace near the front. His fist thrust high, his voice booming. He looked unstoppable—and far too close to disaster.

“Jace!” I called, but my voice was swallowed by the noise. I pushed forward, each step a battle against the crush of bodies.

The sharp hum of a drone pierced the night. My stomach dropped.

The crowd froze. The drone hovered into view, its sleek black shell reflecting flickering torchlight. Its red spotlight swept across the sea of faces.

Someone hurled a bottle, the glass shattering against its side. An alarm screeched, splitting the air.

The crowd turned violent, shoving and stumbling as enforcers spilled from the shadows, batons and shields glinting under the harsh red light.

“Jace!” I screamed, desperation raw in my throat.

He turned, panic replacing defiance. “Mira! Get out of here!”

I tried to push toward him, but the surge of bodies shoved me back. I stumbled, catching myself against a wall.

The drone’s spotlight locked onto me.

My breath caught. Fear clawed up my spine.

A shadow moved at the edge of my vision. A hand clamped onto my arm and yanked me sideways into an alley.

“Move,” a voice ordered, deep and commanding.

I stumbled, but the grip was unyielding, pulling me into the darkness.

The alley was narrow, the noise of the protest fading. My pulse thundered.

“Who—” I started, but the stranger silenced me with a sharp glance.

I looked up and felt the breath leave my lungs.

He was tall, his dark hair framing angular features that seemed carved from stone. His amber eyes burned with intensity. He radiated control—dangerous, magnetic, unrelenting.

Lucan.

The prince of wolves. The enforcer of our oppression.

His name was a whispered curse in the Human Quarters.

“Let me go!” I stammered, trying to pull free.

“Quiet,” he snapped, voice low but firm. “If you want to live, follow me.”

His tone left no room for argument.

He pulled me deeper into the shadows. The drone’s red light swept past the alley’s entrance, but Lucan didn’t falter. His grip was firm, a tether in the chaos.

The twisting alleys seemed endless. My breaths came in shallow gasps, adrenaline burning through me.

We finally stopped in a dark corridor, the riot sounds fading to a dull roar. I leaned against a cold stone wall, my chest heaving.

Lucan released my arm. The absence of his touch was immediate, though the heat lingered.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Mira,” I said, barely above a whisper.

His amber eyes narrowed, studying me. “Mira,” he repeated, testing the name.

“What do you want from me?” I blurted. “Why did you save me?”

His stare was sharp, as if he saw through me.

“You’re in over your head,” he said finally, urgent yet cryptic. “This rebellion will destroy you.”

His words felt both like a warning and something protective.

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, frustration rising.

“I’m talking about staying alive,” he said, stepping closer. “If you think you can stand in the middle of a riot and walk away unscathed, you’re a fool.”

“Why do you care?” I shot back, anger and confusion swirling.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. Footsteps echoed down the alley, sharp and deliberate. Lucan’s expression hardened as he turned toward the sound.

“Go,” he ordered. “Get as far away as you can.”

Before I could respond, he melted into the shadows, vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.

I stood trembling, alone in suffocating silence. My skin still buzzed where he had gripped my arm. My thoughts swirled with fear, confusion, and anger.

Why had he saved me? What did he mean about the rebellion?

And why did I feel my life had just irrevocably changed?

POV: Lucan

I moved swiftly through the shadows, my mind racing.

Mira.

The name lingered in my thoughts, heavy with significance. When I touched her, something shifted. It wasn’t just instinct—it was something deeper. Something dangerous.

I told myself it didn’t matter. She was just another human caught in the chaos.

But I couldn’t shake the memory of her face, her voice, the fire in her eyes despite her fear.

My father would call it weakness. I should have left her there.

But as I disappeared into the night, I knew saving her was only the beginning.