The creature moved first.
Not with the chaotic, broken aggression Ithilien remembered from Mount Hood, but with something far more controlled, far more precise. Its muscles tensed in a way that felt calculated, and then it lunged—not blindly, not wildly, but straight for her.
Kidd reacted before she could.
He stepped into its path, his movement sharp and decisive, and for a split second Ithilien saw it—the shift, the exact moment when control gave way to instinct. His body coiled, shoulders tightening, jaw setting, and then he was already changing.
The transformation wasn't slow.
It wasn't graceful.
It was violent in its efficiency.
Bone, muscle, and sinew reshaped in a matter of heartbeats, his human form collapsing into something larger, heavier, infinitely more dangerous. Where Kidd had stood, Adrahill emerged—massive, dark, his presence filling the space like something that belonged to the wild more than to any house.
Ithilien froze for half a second.
She had never seen him like this.
Never understood, not truly, what it meant for him to be alpha.
Adrahill didn't hesitate.
He met the creature head-on, their bodies colliding with a force that shattered what remained of the glass and sent both of them crashing across the floor. The impact shook the room, claws scraping against wood, teeth snapping in flashes of white and blood.
The mutant moved wrong.
Its limbs bent at angles that didn't belong to any natural creature, its reactions too fast, too sharp, like something constantly correcting itself mid-motion. It twisted under Adrahill's weight, avoiding a killing bite by a fraction, and retaliated with a slash that opened flesh along his side.
The scent of blood hit the air instantly.
Hot. Metallic.
Ithilien's hesitation burned away.
This wasn't a fight that could stay inside.
"Adrahill!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The wolf's head snapped toward her for the briefest second, his amber gaze locking onto hers.
She didn't need words. He understood.
The creature lunged again, but this time Ithilien moved.
She shifted as she ran.
The change tore through her faster than thought, her body answering instinct with instinct as Tauriel surged forward, light and lethal, her form smaller than Adrahill's but built for speed, for precision. She darted past them, close enough for the mutant to catch her scent, to register movement, to choose.
It did.
Just as she needed it to.
It turned.
Followed.
Good.
She burst through the broken opening and into the rain, paws hitting the ground hard as she sprinted toward the treeline, drawing it away from the house, away from—
Marco.
The thought flickered, sharp and immediate, but she pushed it down, focusing on the rhythm of her movement, on the space between trees, on the sound of pursuit behind her.
It was fast.
Too fast.
She could hear it closing the distance, its breathing uneven but relentless, claws tearing through wet earth and roots. For a moment it felt like it might catch her before she reached the cover of the forest—
Then Adrahill joined.
A dark blur to her left, heavier, faster over distance, his presence slamming into the chase with brutal force. He didn't overtake her; he flanked, cutting angles, forcing the creature to adjust, to divide its attention.
They drove it deeper.
Into the trees.
Into their territory.
The forest swallowed them quickly, rain filtering through branches, the ground slick and uneven beneath their paws. Tauriel slowed just enough to shift the rhythm, to draw the creature into a tighter space between trunks, forcing it to lose momentum.
That was the moment.
Adrahill hit it from the side.
Hard.
The impact sent the mutant crashing into a tree, bark splintering under the force. It twisted immediately, recovering too quickly, striking back with a vicious snap that grazed his shoulder, but this time it had nowhere to run.
Not with both of them there.
Tauriel circled, fast and precise, darting in just enough to distract, to force it to turn its head, to expose its flank. Adrahill didn't waste the opening—his jaws closed around its neck with crushing force, driving it down into the mud.
The creature thrashed.
Violently.
Its body convulsed, limbs striking out in erratic, desperate motions, claws tearing into the ground, into him, into anything it could reach. For a moment it felt like it might break free—
Then Tauriel lunged.
Her teeth sank into its side, anchoring it, pulling, holding it in place just long enough.
Adrahill finished it.
The snap was loud.
Final.
The body went still beneath them, tension draining out of it in a single, unnatural release.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
The rain fell harder now, washing over fur, over blood, over the torn ground where the fight had ended.
Tauriel stepped back first, her breathing heavy, her body still tense, ready in case the creature moved again.
Slowly, the adrenaline began to recede, replaced by something colder, more focused.
She stepped closer.
Something about it—
something was wrong.
Not just the body.
The scent.
She lowered her head slightly, inhaling deeper, ignoring the sharp sting of blood and chemicals, pushing past the surface until she found what had been bothering her since the moment it entered the house.
And then—
she froze.
Underneath everything else, beneath the rot, the metal, the unnatural edge of Fenrir—
there was something familiar.
Too familiar.
Her heart stuttered.
No.
She inhaled again, slower this time, forcing herself to be sure.
It was there.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
Marco.
The world seemed to tilt.
Tauriel lifted her head sharply, her gaze snapping toward Adrahill, something wild and alarmed breaking through the aftermath of the fight.
This wasn't just a random attack.
This wasn't just a hunt.
The blood on the creature—
belonged to her brother.