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She ran.

Lily weaved between the vehicles. There was a heavy clamber behind her, and she slid under the one across from her, rolling out on the other side to almost no cover. Lily bypassed the closest column, and there was a crash and metal sprinkling to the floor. Lily ran for a cut in the wall—where she prayed a ladder would lead to the walkway above.

Paws beat against the ground behind her, and a strong huffing crept up her back.

She blinked, and Estelle was in front of her.

And gone in the next.

Lily dived ahead of the cut in the wall, and to her terror, found no ladder. Caiven’s new shape landed awkwardly behind her. A large, muscled body slid across the concrete, claws scraping against the floor. Matted fur bristled, and a guttural growl pierced the air as it righted itself.

Floral perfume overwhelmed the air, and Lily—ready to kill—forced herself to still when a frail arm curled around hers.

Estelle held herself close to Lily. In her shaking and bloody fingers was a pistol. She stared back at Caiven, completely terrified.

Towering high above them, Caiven pulled back his lips to show a pair of long, pointed canines. His olive eyes stared wide, and he tilted his wolfish head, but he didn’t move. Lily reached for Estelle’s hand to calm her when she realized what was happening.

The other graft they took was imbued with an invisibility rune. Estelle must’ve fused with it.

He can’t see us.

Caiven’s snout lifted to the air, and his nostrils flared. He snarled, dropped his head, and in a rush, was gone from their vision, slamming against the adjacent wall in a cloud of dust.

Estelle dragged Lily around the fray. Lily resisted, yanking them to a stop to catch a glimpse of the animal that pounced on Caiven. Almost as large and covered in a dark brown coat, it stood on its back legs and swung at Caiven with claws like curved butcher knives.

“I need your help!” Estelle shouted, desperation filling her voice. “It’s Rin. Please!”

Lily lingered, tense and irate, but clenched her teeth and followed her.

The large hallway narrowed again as the noise from the chaos behind them faded with the light. They turned a sharp corner, passing several bodies in the long, wide chamber of a shooting gallery.

“Estelle?” Aarin’s voice was quiet.

“I’m here!” she called, releasing Lily. “He’s—”

Lily’s heart skipped a beat. Purple filled the air.

He was dying.

Lily vaulted over the short wall to Aarin’s side—resting against one of the walled stalls in the shooting range. She dropped to her knees as her eyes adjusted to the thin lighting.

“I found Estelle,” he said.

“Quiet.” Lily examined the wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. A small tear in the leather told her exactly what had happened. It was bleeding profusely, and she couldn’t find an exit wound.

“Estelle…” he groaned. “And Gwyn—”

“I said quiet!” She applied pressure over his hands, and he hissed. “Estelle, your cloak.”

“Don’t,” Aarin said.

“Give it to me!” Lily yelled.

Choking back sobs, Estelle did as she was told, and Lily instructed her to take her place while she ripped a section from it. Lily had treated many wounds in her time before and after Rimore, but never a gun shot with a lead bullet. She knew to apply pressure and minimize his movement—

“Lily! Stop.”

The darkness wrapped around his body, unrelenting. She clenched the fabric until it felt like her knuckles would tear through the skin. “I’m not arguing with you about it, Aarin.”