Desperation
Remi’s ears pinned flat the moment the three panthers stepped fully into the moonlight. Blades caught the light in short, hungry flashes. Their shoulders rolled with easy confidence, regeneration already humming under dark fur, eyes locked on the smaller fennec like he was already finished.
He waited.
The lead panther lunged first, low and fast. Remi ripped the compact machine pistol free from the small of his back in one smooth motion and squeezed the trigger at almost point-blank range. The weapon barked in a tight, controlled burst. Normal rounds stitched across chests and shoulders in a spray of fur, blood, and sudden shock. The panthers snarled, bodies jerking from the impacts, egos shattering in a hail of gunfire that peppered their bodies. Their regeneration kicked in immediately, knitting flesh almost as fast as it was torn, but the sheer volume of fire forced them to hesitate.
That half-second was all Remi needed.
He dropped the empty pistol into the leaves, both knives already in his paws, and threw himself straight into the middle of them. Steel rang against steel in a rapid, ugly chorus. Claws raked across his tactical vest hard enough to leave deep grooves. He ducked under a wide slash, drove one blade deep into a thick thigh, twisted, and ripped sideways. Hot blood poured over his knuckles. He spun with the motion and opened a second panther’s forearm to the bone, the knife scraping against radius and ulna.
Remi had already mentally commited to this last stand, and fought with fury and without fear.
For a few brutal heartbeats the little fennec looked like he might actually hold the line. His movements were tight, economical, every cut meant to disable rather than just wound. The panthers had size and power, but Remi had speed and the kind of vicious precision that came from years of fighting things bigger than himself.
Then raw strength and faster healing tipped the scale. Panthers were well known and feared for their overpowered healing ability, many times faster than a wolf. Especially faster than a fox by miles. Some anthro's don't heal at all, but nothing heals like a panther.
A heavy black paw smashed the knife from his left hand hard enough to send it spinning into the dark. Another panther slammed into him from the side and drove him face-first into the dirt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Two of them pinned his arms out wide while the third kicked his knees apart with deliberate force and planted a heavy boot between his shoulder blades, grinding him down until he was spread-eagle on the forest floor, still fully clothed but completely helpless.
The one who had wanted to play leaned down, breath hot and damp against the back of Remi’s ear. His voice was low and almost amused.
“We should have a little fun with this one first while he's warm. Don't let a good little fennec go to waste.”
One of the others growled, ears flat. “Nox doesn’t allow that shit. Not even on prisoners.”
“I couldn’t give less of a flying fuck what Nox thinks,” the first panther shot back, weight shifting forward.
Remi’s muzzle was half-buried in leaves and dirt, but his voice still came out clear enough to carry.
“You guys want a bang from me? Here you are.”
The live grenade rolled out from under his chest in a slow, deliberate arc and bumped gently against the nearest panther’s boot.
Everyone froze.
For one stunned second the entire clearing went silent except for the soft tick of the fuse.
Then pure panic erupted.
The two panthers closest to the grenade, including the one who had wanted to play, bolted for the riverbank and dove headfirst into the black water. Remi twisted hard in the sudden chaos, yanked one arm free, and scrambled after them. The third panther hesitated a fatal moment too long, eyes locked on the small metal cylinder.
The grenade detonated.
Powdered cursed silver bloomed outward in a choking gray cloud that lit up the moonlight like toxic fog. The panther still on the bank staggered backward, claws flying to his throat as the particles burned into lungs, eyes, and open wounds. He convulsed once, twice, then collapsed in a twitching heap and went still.
Under the black water the current seized all three bodies like a living thing. The pressure wave from the explosion shoved them farther downstream in a chaotic tumble of limbs and bubbles. Above the surface the cursed silver hung in the air, a deadly ceiling that made surfacing suicide.
One panther’s leg snagged hard between two submerged rocks. The same panther that had kicked Remi's little legs apart and wanted to take the fox's dignity. He thrashed, claws scraping uselessly at stone. Remi twisted in the current, found the trapped limb by feel, and drove both feet down with everything he had left. The joint jammed deeper into the crevice with a muffled grind. Bubbles burst from the panther’s muzzle in a frantic stream as he struggled. Remi held the pressure until the thrashing weakened and the body went slack, then let the current take the corpse away into the dark.
He and the last remaining panther broke the surface together beyond the silver cloud, both gasping, river water streaming from soaked fur. The panther still gripped a blade. Remi still had both of his.
They came together on the muddy bank in a vicious, swirling knife dance. Water flew with every movement. Remi was faster and more precise, opening shallow but painful cuts across arms, ribs, and thighs that should have slowed any normal fighter. The panther’s regeneration shrugged most of them off almost as quickly as they appeared. Raw strength and longer reach kept driving the smaller fennec backward, boots slipping in the wet earth.
A single high-caliber crack split the night like thunder.
The panther jerked hard as the cursed silver round punched clean through his chest. His eyes went wide. Blood and something darker spilled from the exit wound, a blue glow filling the hole, signature of the silver. Remi stepped in without hesitation and kicked him squarely in the center of the injury. The panther toppled backward into the river with a heavy splash. The current caught him and dragged him under.
Remi stood there panting, both knives still raised, river water dripping from his chin, until Lir crashed out of the tree line with his rifle still smoking.
They stared at each other for one long heartbeat. Then Remi dropped the blades into the mud and the two of them collided in a rough, desperate embrace, both still soaked and shaking with leftover adrenaline.
Remi’s voice came out muffled against Lir’s shoulder, quieter than before.
Remi was shaking. “I dropped that fucking grenade between my legs, and still survived somehow. Oh... About what I said earlier… about making a move on you. I, uh… thought I was dead.”
Lir’s laugh was shaky, almost breathless. He squeezed tighter, one paw gripping the back of Remi’s neck.
“Don’t worry about it.”
They pulled apart. Both of them were already looking upstream toward the distant pack house.
Cass was still gone. Lucian had taken him into pure shadow without leaving a single track to follow.
They started running.
Cass’s world dissolved into a sickening blur of shadow and fractured light. Lucian’s power wrapped around them like living smoke, thick and cold against his fur. The trees became long black streaks. Moonlight bent into warped, shimmering ribbons that hurt to look at. Other shapes moved with them through the distorted dark, more panthers and a pair of broad-shouldered wolves, all silent and efficient. Someone grabbed Cass’s wrists and jerked them forward. Thick cord bit into his fur and skin as they bound him tight before he could even think to resist. The knot was ugly and professional.
They broke from the trees at a waiting armored vehicle, matte black and heavy enough to look like it could shrug off small-arms fire. Lucian shoved him hard between the shoulder blades. Cass stumbled into the back compartment. The panther climbed in after him. The doors sealed with a heavy metallic thunk. The vehicle lurched forward, engine low and steady.
Cass sat rigid on the bench seat, bound wrists resting in his lap, and stared Lucian down the entire time. Fury burned hotter than the fear crawling under his skin. His ears stayed pinned. His tail was tight against the seat. Every bump in the road sent a fresh pulse of anger through the open psychic link. After several long minutes of silence he spoke, voice low and steady.
“This isn’t going to go the way you think.”
Lucian’s green eyes flicked over, calm and faintly curious. “Why?”
Cass didn't say anything. But spoke to his pack in the psychic 'group chat'.
A faint, almost bored smile touched the panther’s mouth. He leaned back against the metal wall like they were discussing the weather. “We learned about your psychic link from the dreamwalker. Nox planned around it. He’s a strategist. That’s why you have no windows and no view of the outside. You can’t tell them where you’re going even if you try.” Lucian’s gaze drifted over Cass’s bound form. “His plan is guaranteed. You’ll be studied. Dissected, eventually. After many experiments, of course. Including on the best parts of yourself.” His eyes dropped pointedly between Cass’s legs and lingered. “You’re a void-touched wolf after all. And the void is very sexual in nature. Everything will need to be… studied.”
Cold fear slid down Cass’s spine in a slow, oily trickle and his balls drew up tight in his pants. His stomach clenched. Images he did not want tried to form behind his eyes. Still he bared his teeth, ears flat, and met Lucian’s stare without flinching.
“Fuck you.”
Lucian leaned forward suddenly. Those striking green eyes, so different from the usual amber or gold of other panthers, locked onto Cass’s with sudden intensity. The air inside the compartment felt tighter.
“Nox has planned for every variable,” Lucian said quietly, “except for one. Me.”
Cass frowned, ears lifting a fraction. “What?”
“Contact your pack. Tell them the moment to strike is on the mountain pass. The same one where you ran into the Void Dragon.”
Cass’s ears flicked hard. Memory of that massive, wrong shape in the mist surged up. “That giant thing was a dragon?”
“Yes. A dragon corrupted with void energy. It lives in the Void and isn’t supposed to roam this reality, but Nox brought it across. He hasn’t been able to tame it, so it stays in those mountains. It kills anyone unlucky enough to cross its path and becomes a story the survivors never quite believe. When the convoy reaches the pass I’ll drop the shadow cloak and draw its attention. Tell your pack to bring plenty of firepower. They’re going to have a dragon to deal with.”
Cass stared at him, heart pounding harder now. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you?”
Lucian’s expression did not change. His voice stayed level. “Your other choice is Nox’s operating table. Once he has you in his paws he can block the psychic link entirely. This is the only window you’ll get. Unless you want to be sent back to your pack in pieces. Trust me, I want to help you.”
The link was already wide open. Roan, Zariel, Kiran, and Khepri had heard every word as clearly as if they sat in the vehicle with him. Through the shared current Cass felt their shock hit first, sharp and collective, followed immediately by hot rage and the rapid, disciplined shift into planning. Roan’s presence burned like a live coal. Zariel’s was colder, already calculating.
Zariel’s deep rumble followed, calm and dangerous, the tone he used when the killing was already decided. “We’re bringing enough artillery to make any self-respecting gun nut cream his pants. When you hear the thunder, Cass, that’s when you know it’s time to escape.”
Cass closed his eyes and sent back a single, steady pulse of acknowledgment. He felt it travel the link and land.
Kiran’s lighter presence brushed against him next, quick and fierce, joined by Khepri’s warmer, steadier one. Their combined thought came through clear and close. “Hang tight, wolf. The pack has you.”
Cass opened his eyes again and met Lucian’s green stare across the dim compartment. He did not speak. He simply held the link wide open, let his pack feel every breath and every bump in the road, and waited for the mountain pass.
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