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Before the whole thing crashes down on my head, I move. Each step I take exposes more and more damage. Photos in expensive frames lie shattered on the floor. The ones that stayed attached to the wall hang crooked. Broken glass—some pieces as large as my fist— are scattered everywhere, a trail of sharp shards extending all the way down the hall.

Even the walls are destroyed, with cracks that start at the floor and spider up, like something tried to escape the house by pushing out through the foundation itself.

What the hell happened here?

The dark hallway presses in as I follow the trail of destruction down the hall, past a living room and kitchen. Finally, I arrive at a back exit where I’m forced to stop.

I curse, wondering if I should have gone a different way. I spin in the narrow hall to turn back, but stop when I realize that what I thought was a solid wall to my left is something else entirely—a door.

When closed, it would blend in with the wall almost perfectly unless you were looking for it. Thankfully, someone didn’t shut it all the way. It’s cracked open just enough to be obvious. Curious, I nudge it open further, and somehow, I’m not surprised to find myself at the top of a steep set of stone stairs.

For a long moment I stand there, hesitating. I consider calling for backup, but dismiss the idea before it fully forms. I don’t know what’s down there, but something inside my chest is urging me not to waste time finding out.

I have an overwhelming feeling I’m meant to be here. That if I don’t hurry, it’ll be the biggest mistake of my life.

Decision made, I start my descent. With each step, my paws thud against the stone with intent.

As soon as I round the corner and step off the landing, it’s immediately clear why my Beast—and I—have been so on edge. The air absolutely reeks of pain. It’s so intense and thick my nose burns and my gums start to ache.

One look is enough to tell me what I’ve stumbled into. Between the dank, cold cells and metal gurneys with restraints, I don’t need a fucking welcome sign to see this is some asshole’s torture chamber.

My claws flex and scrape across the stone as I pass cell after cell. My instincts clash, my brain urging caution while that new ache in my chest pushes me to move faster.

It’s unnerving just how silent it is. The only sounds I can hear are my own breaths, the light tread of my steps, and a steady drip, drip of water echoing from one of the cells.

Whoever used this space—they’re evil. I can feel it. Worse, I can smell it in the very bones of the house itself. These cells especially are saturated with pain, fear, and heartache. It’s enough to make me nauseous.

At the end of the hall, I’m hit with a new scent. This one is sharp, painful, and metallic. It forces its way into my lungs, churning my stomach. My nostrils flare⁠—

And my Beast lunges forward, snarling and growling, demanding control. The way he reaches for it—trying to yank it from me—is primal. There’s no fear. No hesitation. This is pure instinct—a hostile takeover in my own fucking body.

Then he charges.

There’s nothing subtle about it. He’s scented something and isn’t waiting for the human part of me to catch up. Whatever it is, it’s enough to cause a complete split for the first time in seven fucking decades, and I’m left reeling in the wake. My head spins, reality shifting and confusion taking over everything.

I know better than to fight him over something like this. Reluctantly, and with a little irritation, I let go and hand over the reins.

Immediately, he takes off, rushing from one cell to the next, one after another until he finally skids into the last cell on the left. For one long heartbeat, he goes completely still, then snarls and drops his nose to the floor. When I push forward, he growls and—grudgingly—relinquishes some of his control, generously permitting me to sit bitch seat on his manic ride.

Nose to the ground, nostrils flaring, we cover every inch of the cell—searching for something he’s sure is here. To me, it smells like every other cell in this place, albeit a bit more saturated with pain and despair, as though someone was kept here recently.

Then, like a light clicks on in my senses, I pick up something new. Something cold. Cold and…

Fuck. A vampire?

Another sniff and I’m sure. It’s a vampire—I recognize the scent. Cold and sharp, with a never-ending hunger. It’s all mixed with agony and rage and terror⁠—

And silver.

Fates. How the fuck did a human find out about silver? How’d a human even get the jump on a vampire, let alone wrangle one into a cell? I’ve never seen a human overpower a Supernatural. Even imagining it is unsettling. I’ll need to tell my dad; he’s going to⁠—

Oh….

Oh….

Thoughts vanish.

The world stops.