Chapter Text
It was a silent ride. There was no small talk, no quiet laughter, or jokes to lighten the mood; there was only the solid weight of weapons being cleaned and prepped for what was to come, alongside the sharp swaying from the vehicle's movement.
His ears twitched—once, twice. He wasn’t actually hearing anything; it was simply a tic he had developed over years of service. Sensing movement to his right, he glanced sideways, catching sight of his second-in-command, Piers. The young man had his ears pinned flat against his head and his tail tucked away behind his back out of sight. He was biting his lower lip hard enough to expose his canines, his gaze locked onto a specific spot in the vehicle.
This was his first mission since the events in China, which had left him with severe aftereffects in his left eye and arm. After all the therapy he had to endure just to regain normal mobility in his arm—even though his eye was practically lost—Piers believed he still wasn't ready. However, Jake had convinced him that they would never know unless they let him go on a mission. So, he allowed himself to be persuaded, despite the fear of causing himself more harm.
"Nivans," Chris’s voice came out low, but it could be heard perfectly by Piers's heightened senses. The young man’s ears perked up, and he straightened at the sound of his name. "If you feel like you're still not ready..."
He left the words hanging in the air, watching how those small tufts on his head twitched once before flattening sharply against his skull again. An involuntary low growl rumbled from the depths of Piers's throat, making Chris raise an eyebrow as his own ears twitched at the sound.
"I’m fine, Captain." Piers paused before looking at Chris with sheer determination. "I’ll get through this."
Chris’s own ears shifted, picking up the frequency of his fear, but he decided not to comment. He merely responded with a hum, turning his gaze away to check on the others. Jill sat across from him, staring out the window; from behind, she appeared serene, but the subtle tapping of her feet gave her away. Beside her was Carlos, who never went anywhere without her; his ears, which usually hung floppy on his head, were upright today, scanning for any enemy sound. Jake was in the driver's seat, steering in silence, and not far away were Finn and Damian.
They had finally managed to locate the hideout of the largest illegal hybrid and human trafficking mafia in all of Europe and the US. In other parts of the world, their cells had already been captured; only this one remained, and with any luck, they would find the boss—a Spaniard named Ramón Salazar who carried himself like the king of the world. Because of that, Chris knew everyone was on edge.
The ride lasted no more than thirty minutes before they finally reached their destination. Everyone grabbed their weapons and moved into position, ready to strike the moment Jake braked the vehicle. Opening the doors and dismounting with speed and precision, there was no time to lose, no words to be said; everything that needed to be known had already been discussed. Before stepping out of the vehicles, there was zero margin for error.
They had to be fast, leaving the enemy no time to react; they held the advantage. He was the leader of Alpha Team, while Jill and Carlos headed Bloodhound Team. They split up without exchanging a word—them to the right, his team to the left. Chris guided himself by scent, pointing out where the smells of alcohol and medicine were originating, giving hand signs to indicate how many hostiles there were. As they advanced, they had to keep noise to an absolute minimum.
They breached, attacking without giving the targets a chance to scream, extracting hybrids who were in such terrible condition that it made low growls rumble from the deepest part of Chris's throat. He knew his team tensed up whenever he did that, but he couldn't help it.
They reached a room where a distinct aroma—a metallic scent of copper—invaded his nostrils. His body shifted into an attack stance; he felt his muscles tighten, his eyes locking onto that door. Taking slow steps, he cracked it open to see what was inside. He glanced at Piers, who was always a step behind him. Piers was slightly hunched over, his ears moving continuously searching for a sound, his eyes fixed on the door as he let out low, warning growls.
They looked inside the room. It was white like the others, with the stark difference of reddish stains splattered across the wall and floor, and in the middle of it all, a man slumped heavily against the wall. Chris could perfectly hear the wheezing of his dangerously slow breathing. He didn't waste time lowering his weapon, taking long strides toward the man who was still breathing—though if they didn't treat him soon, he wouldn't be for long. He only needed to glance at Piers to see that he was already pulling out a first-aid kit, preparing to tend to the badly wounded man. Out of the entire squad, only Finn and Piers had been trained by Rebecca to have first-aid knowledge, and it was desperately needed here.
Carefully, Chris removed the man's shirt to get a better look at his wounds. He had a large, badly scarred gash across his chest, with others scoring his waist, but it seemed the severe injury was on his back, very close to his spine—something that clearly worried his second-in-command, judging by how Piers's ears flattened against his head. Chris thought about leaving Piers with a couple of men to look after the wounded man, but a muffled groan stopped him.
"Hey, big guy..." The man's voice was hoarse, and each word came out dragged; it seemed he was struggling to breathe. Piers told him to be quiet, but he ignored it. "Down below... there's a basement. In that basement..." He couldn't finish the sentence due to a coughing fit, but once he recovered, he kept speaking. "There are two hybrids... Please, rescue my friend Sancho and Princess Dulcinea."
He couldn't say any more; he ended up passing out, and Piers began treating him rapidly. Chris didn't give an order, nor did he wait for anyone; he started sprinting toward that direction, ignoring anything that got in his way. He heard the screams of a girl alongside the muffled noises of other men. He could identify four soldiers by the sound of their boots and the smell of gunpowder; the girl, a hybrid, seemed to be a medic, and there was a seventh person who carried a strong scent of pharmaceuticals and copper.
The four soldiers had come out dragging the young woman, a girl with dirty blonde hair falling slightly past her shoulders. She wore a soiled, torn hospital gown and was barefoot, but she fought to break free, screaming a name. Chris didn't waste time; he lunged at the soldiers without holding back. He delivered a heavy blow to the first one's head, giving him no time to react. The second tried to grab him, but Chris seized his arm and threw him with such force that he slammed into the wall. He caught the third with a right hook to the jaw. As for the last one, he caught him around the waist with his right hand, pinning the soldier's body tightly against his own, and with a swift, explosive twist, pulled his arm to hurl him through the air. The soldier crashed face-first against a wall, knocked completely out of commission.
His breathing was rapid, but he had no time to stop before turning to the young woman who was sitting on the floor, trembling. Her large eyes wouldn't look away from him, as if she expected him to hurt her. He ran his tongue over his lower lip before speaking.
"You'll be fine, I'm here to rescue you." He couldn't wait for her to answer. He clearly heard the sound of a firearm being readied inside, so he rushed into the room.
A much stronger scent of copper hit his nose. Flinching by instinct, his pupils contracted, his ears pinned back, and he bared his fangs, locking eyes on a man in what looked like a priest's robe, heavily pinning down the back of a boy. The boy lay face down, showing only his dirty blonde hair, his ears flattened against his skull, and his tail thrashing wildly as he awaited his fate from the gun pointed at his head.
Chris let out a growl from the depths of his throat, causing the man to lift his head and look in his direction. His wicked smile vanished, replaced by wrinkles between his brows, and his eyes lost their vicious gleam, turning dark. His lips parted to say something, but Chris gave him no time to react.
Driving himself forward with all his might, Chris bent his knees and lowered his torso, driving his shoulder hard into the pit of the "priest's" stomach. Throwing his arms wide to lock around the man's waist, he heard all the air escape the man's lungs. He slammed him forward with devastating force, hearing a dull thud as the man hit the wall and slumped, motionless.
Chris let out another warning growl; even though he knew perfectly well that the person in front of him wouldn't be getting up, he knew his own strength was no joke. His breathing was fast, and the pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, but even so, he could hear the hybrid who had been on the floor moments ago pulling himself up. Chris quickly reached for his radio to speak.
"Alpha here, do you copy?" He heard only static before the unmistakable voice of Carlos broke through.
"Alpha, this is Echo, hear you loud and clear." His voice came through slightly muffled by the interference.
"West zone is neutralized; I need medics down here. There is a hybrid, looks feline, with severe injuries." Chris looked at the man who kept his head down, still trying to remain standing. "There is also a rodent-type hybrid who doesn't seem to have serious injuries."
"Understood, we're on our way."
With that, the radios went silent. He put it back in its place to look at the man who had been facing him moments ago. The feline's eyes were a faded blue, clouded by an unmistakable haze. He had drugs in his system; his cheeks were flushed red, smeared with dry blood and sweat, and his eyes were framed by heavy shadows. His body was trembling noticeably. His ears were pinned back—a clear sign of danger. His left arm was wrapped protectively around his torso, and the fingers of his hands were held in a strange, blood-stained position.
"We came to rescue you, you're safe now." Chris swallowed hard, taking a few steps toward him and raising a hand to try and stabilize him. "I need you to sit down."
A warning hiss escaped the blonde's throat, exposing his sharp fangs—a clear warning: *do not come any closer.* So, Chris stopped. His ears twitched once, twice, before he decided what he should do. He carefully raised his hands and began to crouch down slowly, letting his tail tuck between his legs and flattening his ears—a sign of total submission.
The blonde tilted his head slightly, watching what he was doing, apparently understanding the message immediately and relaxing. All of Chris's instincts flared instantly; his ears perked up and his body tensed as he noticed the young man close his eyes and simply collapse toward the floor. He didn't think; he acted, catching him before he hit the cold ground. The feline's skin was wet with sweat, but he was burning with fever. He had to get him out of there immediately.
Carefully scooping the boy's back with his right arm and sliding his left underneath his legs, Chris braced his weight and lunged upward to stand. The feline’s head fell to the side completely limp, offering a clearer view of his neck, which was marred by bruises so dark they looked black.
Chris tightened his grip, pulling the trembling body close to his own, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in his chest over how light the boy felt in his arms and the wheezing sound that accompanied every breath. Ready to make his way toward the exit, the door was suddenly flung open, but he didn't alarm himself; he recognized the faint scent of lemon, gunpowder, and a bit of wet dog that Carlos always carried around—even though he usually denied it.
"Jill just escorted the young lady to the exit," Carlos noted. Along with the sound of his boots, Chris could perfectly hear the rustle of a blanket being unfolded. "It was tough forcing her out; she kept saying she wanted to know how the cat-boy in here was doing."
Carlos dropped the thermal blanket over the blonde's body. Carlos's hair always obscured his eyes, practically preventing anyone from seeing what was on his mind; Chris guided himself by Carlos's ears, but he always kept them drooped alongside his tail, which simply hung lazily behind him. He rarely showed his anxiety, which made him perfect for these types of missions or when children were involved. His nickname was "The group's babysitter"; even though he was a tall man who almost rivaled Chris in strength, his presence made any small animal feel safe and relax. Maybe that was why Jill and Claire adored him. Chris could clearly see Carlos's nose wrinkle slightly before returning to normal.
"He's heavily drugged," Carlos commented, turning quickly to head out of the area. "If we don't get him out of here, it's highly likely he won't make it."
They didn't waste time and began to jog toward the exit. Chris caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of several soldiers leading away the scientists responsible for the terrible state of all these hybrids, and felt a sense of satisfaction swell in his chest. He hoped their punishment would cause them the same amount of harm they had inflicted.
Stepping outside, the cold air hit his face full-on, dissipating the smell of antiseptics and disinfectants and replacing it with the scent of wet earth, gunpowder, and motor oil. He heard a whimper of pain escape the blonde as his tremors worsened and he struggled to breathe. The temperature change hit him hard; no words were needed. It seemed Carlos had heard the wheezing in his breathing too, as he had quickly fetched another thermal blanket and guided Chris toward an ambulance.
Chris laid the blonde on the stretcher with all possible care, noticing that those blue eyes were looking at him. The feline opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Yet, Chris understood what he wanted to say; he could hear the muffled voice of the young woman nearby, asking about him and the wounded human.
"The girl is fine," Chris answered the unvoiced question. "Right now, we need you to stabilize."
He lightly squeezed the blonde's shoulder. The feline seemingly only needed to hear those words before closing his eyes again, leaving the medics to attend to him as Chris stepped out of the ambulance. He needed to check on the rest of the squad.
He followed the noise of the frantic girl trying to push Jill and Finn away, who were apparently attempting to hook her up to an IV and get her into an ambulance. Upon seeing him, the young woman stopped abruptly, trembling non-stop. Her large blue eyes were wide, welling with tears against her red, grime-and-tear-stained cheeks. Her long blonde hair was tangled, partially hiding her small mouse-like ears. Her lips pouted as if she wanted to say something, but she held a clear terror toward him.
Chris let out a sigh; it was the downside of being a wolf hybrid—any smaller hybrid was terrified of him, not to mention that humans viewed him as highly dangerous. That was why he usually let Carlos, who was a Newfoundland dog hybrid, handle this, or Piers himself, who was a Golden Retriever hybrid, though because of what happened, Piers almost always kept his distance from frightened civilians. His excuse: "My appearance will scare them more."
Chris looked in the direction where Carlos should be, but he was busy trying to calm down some smaller hybrids, so he knew he couldn't count on his help. He took a few steps forward before stopping when he saw her try to retreat.
"The boy who was with you," he saw her small ears perk up a bit, taking it as a sign to continue. "He's in an ambulance, he's fine, but we need you to let them treat you."
He lied shamelessly, but now was not the time to tell the truth, especially when the girl was terrified and refusing medical attention. She looked around, searching for something or someone, before locking her gaze onto him again.
"And Luis?" Her voice came out hoarse, likely from so much screaming. It was glaringly obvious Chris didn't know who Luis was, as she looked around again, hesitating on what to say. "He's a human."
Oh... The human who was severely wounded. To tell the truth, Chris didn't know anything about his status, but seeing that Piers wasn't here, he had probably already left with one of the ambulances to the hospital. So, he decided to say that.
"At the hospital." She simply nodded. "You can let them treat you now," he practically pleaded.
The young woman stopped fighting and allowed herself to be seated on the ambulance stretcher. Jill quickly stepped down from the vehicle, leaving Finn—who would apparently act as her medic—to close the doors, giving the vehicle a tap to signal it to start moving.
"Everyone is in the ambulances ready to depart, or they've already left."
"Then it's time for us to head out too."
A simple nod came from Jill as she walked away to call her team. Chris looked back at the imposing structure hidden in the forest; anyone looking at it wouldn't suspect that innocent beings were tortured here for mere money or amusement. He closed his eyes, letting all the scents wash over him.
No scent of death, and that was enough to feel that the mission had been a success. He looked at his team, who were waiting for him to begin pulling out of the area.
They would have a lot of work ahead of them to make these men talk.