Page 104 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Young enough that the realization hurt.

Theron grabbed Matt’s shoulder hard enough to yank him backward just as another creature slammed into the space where he had been standing. “Focus,” Theron snapped.

Matt dragged in a breath and refocused.

Right. Existential horror could wait until they were not being chased across a collapsing bridge by undead wolves.

Survival first.

Then the bridge groaned again.

Baptiste looked up sharply from the detonator in his hands. “Everyone off the span. Now.”

The group fell back toward the next corridor as the creatures continued flooding across the bridge behind them.

Theron remained at the rear.

Matt turned quickly. “Theron.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“That’s not reassuring anymore.”

Another creature lunged for Theron from the side. Theron caught it by the throat one-handed and hurled it directly into the advancing swarm hard enough to send several bodies crashing sideways off the bridge.

Matt hated how terrifyingly beautiful he looked doing it.

The realization was deeply inconvenient.

“THERON,” Vale shouted.

The support columns cracked.

Stone split beneath the weight of hundreds of climbing bodies as fractures raced across the bridge in violent lines.

Theron finally moved. He sprinted toward them just as Baptiste triggered the charges.

The explosion shook the entire cavern.

Fire erupted beneath the bridge supports while the central span collapsed inward with a deafening roar. Stone, bodies, and black dust disappeared into the abyss below as the remaining creatures screamed beneath the avalanche of falling rock.

The shockwave slammed through the corridor hard enough to knock several agents off balance.

Then near-silence crashed down over the cavern, broken only by the mountain’s endless whispering. But the immediate sounds of pursuit vanished beneath the settling dust.

Matt bent forward, catching his breath.

Across from him, Theron stood motionless near the corridor entrance, chest rising heavily beneath blood-smeared clothing while pale dust drifted through the air around him.

Then the mountain moved again. Not trembling. Shifting.

Beneath miles of stone and forgotten tombs, the corruption stirred, spreading through the prison like a slow breath drawn after centuries of stillness. Somewhere in the dark, a sound drifted upward that almost resembled laughter.

***

Dust continued drifting through the corridor long after the bridge collapsed behind them.

The surviving agents regrouped near the tunnel entrance, checking weapons, injuries, and ammunition while the mountain groaned somewhere deep below their feet. Even routine orders were exchanged in hushed tones. The younger wolves seemed to understand that the First King’s reach now extended far beyond the prison that still held him.