The road through the city was hell, paved with glass shards and the bones of the unlucky. They cut through side streets choked with ferns and garbage, moving single file. Rose led with her blade drawn.
Felicity followed close behind. Victor and Finch flanked the rear.
Somewhere above, a hawk spiraled, making lazy predatory loops.
Always at the edge of vision. Always watching.
A few blocks from the playground, the world shifted again.
The city's silence thinned, stretched tight like skin over a wound.
Felicity's ears pricked. Boots on tile. The scrape of careful movement.
Victor signaled, two fingers at his lips, and they melted into the shadow of a strip mall, eyes scanning broken rooftops and skylines.
Rose knelt by a shattered bakery window. "There," she whispered, pointing across the street.
They waited.
Felicity held her breath, hand tight around the hilt of her stolen knife.
Victor pressed close behind her, close enough that she could feel his pulse through the back of her jacket. It was steady. Controlled.
That helped, a little.
A group emerged from the gloom. Men. Eight, maybe ten. All of them beastmen, bristling with antlers, tusks, horns, claws, patchwork pelts and tails. In another life they might have been a rugby club posturing for a bucks night.
Here, they moved with the quiet precision of predators who knew exactly where they were going.
Some wore torn military gear, bloodstained and taped together. All were armed. Blades. Clubs. Bats. The occasional handgun. They fanned out with unsettling ease, two climbing to an awning above with rifles ready, the rest covering doors and windows like they'd rehearsed this a hundred times.
Felicity's heart hammered.
They'd been pinpointed.
Flanked.
Nearly surrounded.
If Victor hadn't seen them first, if Victor wasn't… Victor, they'd have been wiped out in seconds.
The leader was the biggest of them. A slab of muscle with crooked wolf ears and a jaw so square it looked carved. An old ANZAC vest hung from his shoulders, bristling with pins and medals that clinked softly when he moved. His eyes were small, bright, and mean.
He smirked at Victor. "Come out, Silver," he called. "We brought Maccas."
Victor didn't hesitate. He stepped into the light, chin up, body loose but ready.
"You fuckers are early," he said.
That broke the tension.
The big man laughed and stalked forward, but his eyes didn't stay on Victor. They slid past him, flicking again and again toward Felicity. Others followed suit. Quick glances at first. Then longer ones they didn't bother hiding.
Counting her.
Measuring.
One rangy man with antlers shaved short stared outright until Victor shifted just enough to block the line of sight. The man looked away.
The leader's gaze snagged on Rose next. It lingered there, not hungry, not leering. Curious. Respectful. Like a hunter studying something that might turn around and kill him.
"Didn't think you'd show up with ladies," he said. "Figured we'd drag you out of hiding sooner or later."
Victor shrugged, casual enough to be infuriating. "Sometimes the best finds land in your lap."
He moved as he spoke, placing himself squarely between Felicity and the men. His shoulders cast her in shadow. A low rumble vibrated through his chest, too quiet to draw attention, too deep to miss.
Every man close enough to hear it went still.
The message landed.
They pressed closer anyway.
Some couldn't help themselves, sneaking looks whenever they thought Victor wasn't watching. Hunger. Calculation. Like she was a problem they hadn't solved yet.
A small possum-type at the back muttered, "Jesus. Real ones," before his friend elbowed him hard.
Rose sneered. "What's the deal? You boys never see a woman before?"
A man near the front grinned, but his eyes kept sliding back to Felicity. "Not ones that made it past the first few days. You're the rarest thing in the world now."
Felicity tensed, instinct screaming at her to shrink, to disappear. She pressed her face against Victor's back.
His arm came down immediately, firm and deliberate, caging her in.
A promise without words.
No one touched her without going through him.
Introductions were brief. Ugly.
Snow Team. Ex-military. Most of them dishonorably discharged even before society went feral. In the new world, they'd gathered power, pushed the limits of their animal selves.
Mutations, Victor called them.
Every one of these men had at least one trick that would have landed them in a lab in the old days.
Finch's attention snapped the moment he noticed the hulking rhino man staring at Rose.
The beastman's grey skin rippled as he turned, metal nose stud glinting. "Name's Tommy," he snorted.
Silver particles danced lazily between his massive fingers.
"You think you can protect Rose with those twigs you call arms?" Tommy said. "Let's see if you can handle me."
Finch didn't argue. He nodded once and followed.
That left Felicity, Rose, Victor, and the rest.
The leader circled them slowly, wolf nature more obvious up close. Scars traced his temples where wounds had healed wrong. A black tattoo vanished behind his ear.
"So," he said, eyes locking onto Felicity. "This little fox yours?"
Victor's answer was immediate. Flat. Dangerous.
"She's mine."
The man paused, then nodded. Respect. Or concession.
"She's pretty, Silver," he said. "Wouldn't blame you for keeping her tucked away. But you know she's gonna be famous."
His nostrils flared. Pupils blew wide.
"She smells like warmth," he growled. "Like something that shouldn't exist anymore."
He glanced at the others. "Remember this. With females this scarce, one to every hundred men, we either learn to share protection…"
His eyes returned to Felicity.
"…or we lose them."
Felicity stepped forward despite herself. "That's not true," she said. "Women and men are equal in numbers."
Her voice faltered.
The wolf shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid you're mistaken."
His gaze lingered on her ears. Her tail. The way Victor shifted closer without realizing.
"Most women died in the first hours," he said. "Or worse, a survivor like you is exceedingly rare."
A pause.
"Especially one with your… attributes."