Seraphina's Revenge: A Rebirth In The Apocalypse Novel

Chapter 103: The Den Burns

"We smoke them out," Zubair said, calm as if it were obvious.

He moved before the words finished leaving his mouth—his rifle steady as his boot hooked one of the liquor bottles and slid it across the floor. Alexei caught it, grinned, and smashed it against the concrete.

Liquor sprayed sharp and acrid, soaking into wood and paper.

Elias dropped low, his rifle angled high toward the loft, keeping the sniper pinned. Lachlan peeled off toward the workbenches, sweeping his hand across a rack of tools until he came up with a flare canister. He cracked it one-handed, tossed it into the spreading pool of liquor, and the world lit orange.

The flame ran fast. It crawled up the table legs, across scattered cards, into the spilled liquor. The wolf preppers shouted, some ducking for cover while others trying to stamp it out.

But all in all, the panic spread quicker than the fire.

"Now," Zubair barked.

Lachlan surged forward, his rifle butt cracking against a raider’s jaw, dropping him in a spray of teeth and blood.

Elias fired once, clean and efficient—another wolf toppled from the loft with a strangled cry.

Alexei laughed, vicious, as he caught one by the collar and smashed his face into the table edge hard enough to split bone.

The den erupted in chaos. Smoke thickened overhead, curling into the rafters. Wolves scrambled, tripping over each other in their rush to reach the back door. One shoved past his comrade only to catch Zubair’s blade under his ribs. He folded soundlessly, swallowed by the firelight.

Sera stood in the doorway, heat brushing her face, the creature clawing at her chest. Alpha strikes last. Alpha takes. Alpha rules.

But she stayed where she was. She watched. Directed.

"Right side!" she called, voice sharp. Lachlan pivoted without hesitation, putting two rounds into the shadow that rose with a pistol. The man slammed into the wall and slid down, leaving a streak.

"Left!"

Elias was already there, knife whispering across a throat before the raider even registered the order. The creature purred, satisfied.

The last wolf standing bolted for the back door. Zubair let him take two steps before his rifle cracked. The round shattered the man’s knee. He collapsed, screaming, clawing for the exit.

"Alive," Zubair said, voice as calm as it had been when he called for fire.

Elias dragged the wounded wolf back by his collar, dumped him at their feet. His eyes were wide, white showing all around, his mouth flecked with spit.

"You don’t know who we are," he rasped.

"We don’t care," Alexei said cheerfully, wiping blood on a torn shirt. "You’re thieves. And thieves tend to lose things... like their lives."

Behind them, the flames leapt higher, swallowing shelves of stolen supplies, painting the ceiling black.

They didn’t linger. Zubair was first to speak, his tone clipped, efficient. "Gather anything worth taking."

They moved in practiced rhythm. Elias checked the loft, pulling down the sniper’s weapon—a scoped hunting rifle with a cracked stock—and stripped the bolt, tossing the pieces into the growing fire. Lachlan rifled through a pile of crates stacked against the far wall, pulling free a case of canned goods and two sealed water jugs. He shoved them toward Sera.

"Yours," he said simply.

She touched the side of one jug. The creature hummed, pleased at the offering.

Alexei tore through a duffel shoved behind a sofa, tossing out rags, bottles, a coil of rope. "Trash. Trash. Oh—vodka. Not trash." He stuffed the bottle into his jacket and grinned.

Sera wandered closer to the wounded wolf, crouching down in front of him. He froze, eyes locking on hers. She didn’t bare her teeth, didn’t make a sound, but the creature rumbled loud enough she thought maybe he could hear it.

"Where’s the rest?" she asked.

The man’s mouth worked. No sound.

Zubair nudged the muzzle of his rifle against the man’s ruined knee. The wolf shrieked, his voice breaking high. "They’ve got another stash! Warehouse, two streets over—red brick, south wall collapsed! Supplies—everything we couldn’t haul here!"

Sera straightened, satisfied. She didn’t even need to look at Zubair to know he’d catalogued every word.

"Take him," Zubair ordered. Elias hauled the man up again. His weight barely slowed him.

The fire was chewing faster now, smoke boiling against the ceiling. Heat shimmered in waves across the concrete floor. The wolves’ den was collapsing, fast.

"Out," Lachlan said.

They slipped through the side door into the frozen night, dragging the wounded wolf with them. The air hit like ice water after the furnace inside, but the smoke carried with them, clinging to clothes and hair. The auto shop glowed behind them, windows pulsing with flame. The roof buckled once, groaned, then sagged. Sparks shot skyward like a fountain before the snow swallowed them whole.

Sera’s creature purred louder than the fire. Den broken. Horde stronger.

They marched the wolf down an alley half-choked with snow. He stumbled, cursed, nearly fell twice before Elias yanked him upright again. Zubair kept pace, calm as ever, rifle tucked but ready. At the corner of a ruined laundromat, they stopped. Zubair finally crouched, tilting his head at the man.

"This warehouse. How many?"

"Don’t know," the wolf muttered. His teeth chattered, whether from pain or cold she couldn’t tell. "Sometimes twenty, sometimes less. Depends who’s out raiding."

"Armed?"

"Shotguns. Hunting rifles. Couple pistols." His eyes darted, like he could find escape in shadow. "You’ll never take it."

Alexei laughed, sharp and amused. "He says this while bleeding into snow."

The wolf’s mouth snapped shut.

Zubair’s gaze didn’t waver. "Show us."

The man hesitated, then nodded. What else could he do? Elias tightened his grip on the wolf’s collar and shoved him forward.

They left the Hummer where it was, too close to risk. On foot, they moved through alleys and between drifts, the snow crunching soft under their boots. The wounded wolf stumbled often, his breath ragged, each step painting the white ground darker.

Sera stayed at the rear this time, watching her horde move. Elias with his silent precision, Alexei buzzing with restless energy, Zubair steady as gravity itself, Lachlan glancing back at her every so often with that unspoken question in his eyes.

Alpha at the back, the creature purred, satisfied.

The city was quiet, almost too quiet. Sera kept waiting for a sound—the scrape of boots, the sharp crack of gunfire. But nothing came. Only the endless hiss of wind against broken buildings.

Finally, the wolf raised a shaking hand, pointing. "There," he rasped.

The warehouse loomed out of the snow like a stranded ship. Red brick, blackened in places. One wall had collapsed inward, spilling rubble into the street. A set of loading bay doors sagged on broken hinges. Lantern light leaked from high windows, and faint voices carried on the air.

Zubair studied it a long moment, eyes calculating.

"Options?" Lachlan asked quietly.

"Too many for a frontal," Elias murmured.

Alexei cracked his knuckles, grinning. "We burn this one too?"

Zubair didn’t answer yet. He only looked at Sera, his eyes dark and steady. The creature pressed against her ribs, eager. Her lips curved in a faint, humorless smile.

The night wasn’t over yet.