I watched a cop carry Jackie to their hover transport. She stayed asleep in her arms; her face peaceful against the officer’s shoulder, breathing soft and even. A part of me—the part still capable of feeling anything besides rage—wanted to follow them. To sit in their waiting room chair and make sure she woke up safe. But I couldn’t. Not with what I had to do next.

  The signal Handy pulled from Deathlok’s mangled CPU led me straight up. Always up in this city. The rich lived in the clouds, the poor in the gutters, and the monsters—well, the monsters ran the show from penthouses so high the smog couldn’t reach them.

  Pandora Tower punched through the smog layer, its spire lit up in electric blue and gold. Top floor. Of course it was the top floor. Why would the CEO live anywhere but at the absolute peak of his empire?

  “Handy, once we’re in, scrape everything,” I ordered. “Every dirty email, every black ops budget, every buried file. I want it all.”

  “Stealth protocols engaged,” the AI replied.

  I didn’t bother with the lobby. Security would’ve had me pinned to the floor or worse before I made it past the turnstiles.

  The climb up the outside of the building was twenty minutes of pure hell. My arms screamed as I hauled myself up the sheer face of the tower, fingers digging into gaps in the steel cladding that shouldn’t have been there. The wind at this altitude was a physical force, trying to peel me off the glass like a sticker. My muscles burned, the lactic acid building with every heave, but fury kept me moving. Every handhold was a promise. Every pull upward was Jackie’s face, peaceful and trusting.

  The penthouse window exploded inward as I crashed through it. Glass rained down around me in a thousand glittering pieces, tinkling against marble floors like broken stars. I landed in a crouch, claws out, teeth bared, ready to tear apart whatever—whoever—was waiting.

  He was waiting. The CEO.

  Moldark Treznor stood by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, holding a crystal glass filled with something dark and thick. Not wine. I could smell the copper tang from across the room—blood. Fresh blood. Human blood.

  Vampire.

  My stomach twisted.

  “Good evening, Miss Nova.” His voice slid across the space between us smooth as silk. Controlled. Practiced over centuries of convincing people to bare their throats. He turned to face me, and I got my first real look at him.

  Pale didn’t cover it. His skin was thin as parchment, revealing the map of dead blue veins beneath. White hair cut short, styled with precision. A pink suit that probably cost more than my parents’ house, tailored so perfectly it looked spray-painted on. And those eyes—red. Actually, genuinely red, catching the light like rubies.

  He wasn’t surprised. He was amused.

  “Excellent time,” he said, swirling the contents of his glass. The blood coated the inside in thick rivulets. “I expected you to take at least another day to realize Jackie was merely… misdirection.”

  My hands curled into fists. The claws wanted out. The wolf wanted blood.

  “You ordered Deathlok to kidnap my sister?” The words came out half-growl, barely human.

  “Safe. Asleep. At the police station on Fifth and Crawford, unless I miss my guess.” He smiled. Canines too long, too sharp. “I never actually took her, Nikki. I simply let you believe I had. Your protective instincts are quite… predictable.”

  The rage stuttered.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he continued, strolling closer. His movements were wrong—too fluid, too perfect. “Deathlok knew your identity. He checked your family. Although he was my puppet, his tactics were intriguing.”

  “You knew who I was. Why play with your food?”

  “Field testing,” he said simply. “I needed to know if the organic model was obsolete. You tracked Deathlok through three districts, engaged him in combat despite being outmatched, and neutralized him. Impressive. Better than half my combat operatives.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “He kidnapped a child.” The words tasted like ash.

  “He tested you. Pushed you to your limits. Forced you to evolve beyond the scared teenager hiding her nature.” Moldark stopped a few feet away. “And you performed beautifully.”

  My wrist tingled where Handy sat silent, listening, recording every word.

  “And you just want to gloat me to death?” I asked.

  “No.” He took a slow sip from his glass. “I offer you perspective. You think Pandora Corp is your enemy. A corporation run by greedy humans exploiting supernatural creatures for profit. Am I close?”

  “You’re not my kind.”

  “But you are now.” He set the glass down. “I founded Pandora one century ago with a singular purpose—to ensure our survival. Supernatural beings. Vampires. Werewolves. We’re on the verge of extinction, Nikki. Hunted to near-nothing. We need more of us. Stronger versions. Weaponized.”

  “A war.”

  “A reckoning.” His smile widened, showing too much fang. “Humanity won’t accept us. They never have. So when they discover the truth, we must be ready to fight. To win. To rule, or be wiped from existence. Deathlok was version one. Crude. You could be version two. Stronger. Smarter. Loyal.”

  The hypnotic quality in his voice wrapped around my thoughts. For a second—just a second—I almost understood.

  No.

  I shook my head. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m realistic.” His expression didn’t change. “But I can see you need more convincing.”

  “So I can’t refuse?”

  Moldark narrowed his red eyes. “Refusal isn’t a menu option. Not unless you want your family and friends to become my test subjects.”

  I hissed.

  “Oh, I would dare. If I snap my fingers, my security will catch you in one second. Or, I can send an assassin to dispose of your loved ones before you even know it. You can’t beat me. Giving up is your only option.”

  I gave him a smirk. “Wanna bet?” I lifted my wrist. “Handy? Now.”

  The AI didn’t hesitate. Light exploded from my wristband, projecting holographic screens across the entire penthouse.

  It hit the room like a physical blow. Files. Video footage. Lab reports. Financial records. Every piece of data Handy had stolen filled the surrounding air, glowing blue and gold and damning. Illegal resurrection. The werewolf project. Test subjects discarded like trash. Government bribes. And there, highlighted in red: Moldark Treznor. Vampire. CEO. War criminal.

  His smile vanished. The amusement drained from his face, replaced by something colder. Calculating.

  “Touch me and my family,” I said, my voice raw but steady, “then I will leak this, and your whole empire burns. Every government agency, every news outlet, every conspiracy theorist on the net will have it within seconds. They’ll hunt you. They’ll tear Pandora apart brick by brick. Your war ends before it starts.”

  Silence stretched between us. The holograms flickered, casting his face in shifting light and shadow.

  “You can’t beat me with force, Miss Nova. You’re strong, remarkably so for your age, but I’m ancient. Faster. Smarter. I would tear you apart before you landed a single blow.”

  “Good thing I’m not fighting you with claws.”

  His red eyes narrowed. Reevaluated me.

  “Clever girl, but how will I know you will not release those files to the public? You could destroy my empire now and live in peace with your family.”

  He was right. I could end it all. Make this nightmare go away for good. Even save more lives before they meet the same fate like my uncle.

  But Pandora Corp was more than a corporation. They helped the government revolutionize medicine and biotechnology. If they fall now, the people with negative medical conditions would suffer without the corporation’s benefits. And I would become responsible for endangering their lives.

  Damn. But a stalemate to protect everyone, including myself, was better than nothing.

  “Let’s just say this isn’t the right time to determine your demise,” I confirmed. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a sister to hug. And you have a PR nightmare to handle.”

  I turned toward the broken window.

  “Nikki.”

  I stopped.

  “This isn’t over,” he whispered. Dangerously. “I’ll be watching you. And when the war begins, you’ll have to choose a side. Pray you choose wisely.”

  I took a deep breath. “I already did.”

  I jumped through the window.

  The fall felt like flying. Wind screamed past my ears, whipped my hair into a frenzy. The city rushed up to meet me—neon and concrete. Halfway down I shifted—let the wolf surface enough to strengthen bones, thicken muscle, absorb the impact when I hit the ground.

  I landed in an alley three blocks away, legs buckling but holding. But I was alive. Intact.

  Above me, Pandora Tower glowed against the night sky.

  Moldark wouldn’t stop. Creatures like him didn’t stop. They adapted.

  But I’d bought time. A chance to prepare.

  And when the war came—when humans and monsters finally tore each other apart in the streets—I would be ready.

  I am the war.