The clearing was too quiet now.
No more gunfire. No more shouted orders. Just the aftermath—blood on gravel, adrenaline fizzing under my skin, the stink of smoke and fear clinging to every surface.
I hadn't fully shifted, but my form hadn't returned to human either. Claws still prickled from my fingertips. My pupils were slow to recede. Every breath came sharp and deep.
The man I'd taken down hadn't moved. Unconscious or smart enough to play dead.
Either way, not my problem.
Tiger stood with his rifle half-lowered, eyes wide but steady. "What the hell was that?"
I said nothing.
Not because I didn't know how to answer.
But because I could still hear them. The others. Out there.
Watching.
Nyx snarled softly in my skull. They're not retreating. They're circling. Regrouping. This isn't over.
Tiger followed my gaze to the tree line. "Why haven't they hit us again?"
"They're not here for us," I said quietly.
Kol groaned from where he sat propped against the van, still clutching his ribs. "Not here for us? Then what the hell was the point of all that?"
I turned slowly and looked at the crates.
Three.
Two we knew about. The third?
Unmarked.
White. Sealed. Silent.
All eyes followed mine.
It clicked in Tiger's brain first. "You think they were after that one?"
"I know they were."
Mick, shaking, muttered, "What's even in it?"
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
Not even me.
Nyx bristled. The boss said nothing about extra cargo. He's hiding something.
I stepped toward the crate. Crouched. The seal was still intact—just barely. The latch glowed faint blue. Locked, but not armored.
"They avoided shooting this side of the van," I murmured. "All their fire came from angles that wouldn't risk damaging it."
Tiger's jaw clenched. "Means they needed it in one piece."
Kol laughed, short and bitter. "So we're not just smugglers. We're bait."
Mick cursed. "We need to dump it."
"No," I snapped. "We don't move it. Not yet. Not until we know what's inside—and who wants it."
Tiger raised a brow. "What if it's a bomb?"
I ran a hand across the crate's side. It was cool to the touch. No pulse. No hum. No indication of explosives.
"Then they would've let us drive it into town."
He didn't argue.
We regrouped at the back of the van. Kol was breathing heavy, eyes still flicking toward my half-shifted state like he wasn't sure if I was more danger than protection.
"They weren't shooting to kill," he said, quieter now. "They were picking us off. Softening the perimeter."
"Trying to draw us away from the crate," I finished.
"They damn near succeeded."
Tiger shook his head, glancing between me and the white case. "So what's in there? Weapons? Organs? Another hybrid?"
That stopped me cold.
I hadn't thought of that.
Another hybrid.
Maybe not like Nine. Maybe not perfected. Maybe something worse.
Nyx hissed. They're trading bodies. That's what this whole network is built on. You think there's only one experiment out there like him?
"I want it opened," I said.
Tiger blinked. "That's not protocol."
"Neither is a military-style ambush in the woods."
I looked at Kol.
"Can you walk?"
"Barely."
"You'll manage."
We began dragging the crates farther into the clearing, using downed trees and debris as cover. If they wanted another chance to take the third crate, they'd have to get through us properly.
Mick paused mid-move, brow furrowed. "Wait."
"What?"
He nodded toward the bloodied man I'd taken down.
"He's got something in his hand."
Tiger reached him first.
Uncurled his fingers.
It was a data chip.
No name. No label.
Just a symbol.
A single white crescent slashed through with gold.
Not gang. Not syndicate.
But I recognized it.
So did Nyx.
That's from the breeding lab.
I closed my eyes.
Now it made sense.
This wasn't about sabotage.
It wasn't about me.
They didn't want to stop us.
They wanted to steal back something the organization had no right to possess.