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With each movement, it seems to solidify further, until it no longer resembles mist or fog or even shadow.

I don’t know when it happens, but when I glance away from the shadow, Soren’s less than two feet away from it. He reaches out, extending his hand like he’s going to⁠—

“Don’t touch it!” I lunge for him, sprinting across the room and wrapping my hand around his seconds before his fingers make contact. He jerks, then, like he’s coming out of a trance, his eyes clear and a frown appears on his face.

“What the—shit!”

Soren’s arms snake around my middle and he pulls me back right as the shadow shoots into the air and jerks to a stop six feet above us. My mouth drops open as it splits apart, then reforms into the shape of a spiral.

The spiral starts to spin, slow at first, then faster and faster. Soren shoves me behind him and walks us back as the shadow spins and surges, almost like clay that’s being molded by invisible hands.

The shadow thickens and hardens, sharpening into something new. It lengthens and stretches as it transforms, and what I thought was just a shadow resolves into a freaking spear.

The fully formed weapon hovers above our heads—tendrils of black shadow sway and pulse down its length.

Electricity crackles through the air, the scent of ozone suddenly so overwhelming I can taste it. Someone curses. Wood creaks, followed by the sharp rasp of someone unsheathing a weapon. I can feel the tension in the room, thick enough to make my skin itch.

Until, in a parody of Caelan’s earlier throw, the spear takes off, arcing across the room headed straight for Daxen and Vae. Unlike the dagger, the spear stays near the ceiling—well above both Alphas’ heads.

It feels almost like… like it wants us to know it saw what happened. Like it’s taunting us.

It hits the opposite wall, crashing into the concrete with a thunderous CRACK. It shatters, splintering into a swirling storm of sharp black fragments that detonate like a silent bomb.

I scream as they launch through the air, scattering in a thousand different directions—the Alphas duck and dodge. With a curse, Gavran throws himself over Branwen as Soren and Caelan form a barrier around me.

The fragments swirl around us, like leaves caught on a current of wind. They make a final rushing pass around the room, then shoot toward the door and disappear through the crack between it and the floor.

My heart’s racing, pounding violently in my chest. I stare at the floor, blinking in disbelief.

What just happened?

“I really miss when the only things we worried about dodging were arrows and cannon fodder,” Vae grumbles, eyeing the tiny crack leading to the hallway.

“Ha,” Silas responds flatly.

“Seriously though,” Vae adds, voice low like he’s worried he might draw whatever the heck that was back. “What—and I cannot stress this enough—the fuck was that?”

Gavran pushes past Riven and Dax, not stopping until he’s right in front of the still-closed double doors leading to the hallway. He raises a hand for silence and, after listening intently for a moment, says, “It’s gone. I can’t feel it anymore.”

“Hold on. You could feel it?” Riven asks.

Gav frowns back at him. “Yes? Couldn’t you? It was almost like sonar. I could feel and hear it.”

The rest of the Alphas exchange uneasy glances, which makes Gavran’s frown deepen. “You’re telling me none of you felt the pulsing coming off that thing?”

More uneasy glances.

“I did,” Branwen says, stepping forward and shooting me a meaningful glance over her shoulder. One that makes me want to groan out loud.

Oh Fates.

“I did too,” I admit, and have to force myself not to step behind Soren’s larger frame when everyone’s attention swings toward me.

Caelan spins on Daxen. “How the hell did whatever the fuck that was circumvent your security, infiltrate a locked meeting where we were discussing classified information, and not a single one of us noticed its presence except for my Mate?”

“I—”

“You what?”