Keith

The wind shifts just before the alarm sounds.

I feel it along my skin first.

A prickle.

A warning.

I’m halfway along the western perimeter, boots crunching over frost-hardened earth, when my lycan lifts his head inside me.

Something is wrong.

“I know,” I mutter.

The trees are too quiet.

The sentries posted along the ridgeline give me subtle nods as I pass. Everything looks steady. Calm.

Then the eastern alarm tears through the air.

A deep, echoing horn blast.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Not a drill.

Breach warning.

My heart slams into my ribs.

East gate.

I pivot instantly and run.

Branches whip past as I cut through...