Retreat

A muffled ringing. That was the first thing Chief Tyson heard as his consciousness gradually returned. The heavy silence was broken only by the occasional dripping of water and the distant groaning of shifting debris. His left arm throbbed with pain— raw, deep, and pulsing— and a wet warmth seeped through his fur. He blinked a few times, his vision clearing enough to reveal the cracked ceiling of the ruined lab.

"Robert…" he muttered, pushing himself up with a grunt. "Kühl... where are you?"

He forced himself onto his feet. Every muscle protested, and his shoulder screamed with every movement, but he stumbled forward. The wreckage of the underground chamber loomed around him like a battlefield— bloody, broken, but silent. Then he saw the motionless body, slumped against a wall, red streaks staining the floor beneath him.

"Hey, Kühl!" Tyson limped forward as fast as he could. "Do you hear me? Robert!"

Robert didn't respond. His head leaned against the wall, chin tucked to his chest, his revolver still clutched weakly in his hand. Blood had soaked through his clothes. The hybrid's breathing was faint— shallow and rapid.

"Shit! You idiot," Tyson cursed under his breath, kneeling beside him. "You weren't even supposed to be fighting."

Suddenly, a low hum began to grow. Tyson looked up, squinting through the dust-filled corridor. The sound grew louder. Rhythmic. Mechanical.

"Helicopters…?" Tyson whispered.

A moment later, the thundering beat of rotor blades echoed through the ruins above. Choppers. And not just one. Multiple.

Then came the heavy pounding of boots.

Tyson's ears perked. It wasn't the British Royal Guards. These were military. Their steps carried the practiced rhythm of trained soldiers. But the colors didn't match the British forces. The flags on their arms— blue, white, red—flashed in the dim light.

"French…?" Tyson muttered, eyes narrowing.

This wasn't what they had expected. Lagooncrest Isle was technically under Welsh jurisdiction. The British military should've been the first responders. But here were the French, flying in like they'd known what was happening all along.

He glanced down at Robert again. He couldn't leave him here. Gritting his teeth, he slung Robert's limp form over his good shoulder. The pain in his injured arm became blinding, but he powered through it.

"I've got you," he muttered. "We're getting the hell out of here."

---

Elsewhere, near the surface…

In a shed tucked between two overgrown storage buildings, Judith and Jason crouched in silence.

The chaos outside had dulled for the moment, but the echoes of gunfire and screams still lingered. Jason sat against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, hands trembling.

"I-I don't get paid enough for this," he mumbled.

Judith leaned closer. "Jason, look at me."

He didn't.

"Jason!" Her voice sharpened. "You're okay. We're still alive. We can get out of here, okay?"

He looked up, his wide koala-like eyes bloodshot. "They were people. Judith, those ARE PEOPLE. I saw one of them eat another man. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "But we're not going to die here. Not today. Understand?"

Jason nodded, shaky but present. She opened the shed's door a crack. Soldiers had entered the compound now, sweeping systematically. French insignias marked their uniforms. They didn't look like they were here to rescue anyone.

Judith scanned the area. "Alright, Jason. We make for the shore. Quiet and fast. Stick with me."

---

Ten minutes later, at the southern shore of Lagooncrest Isle…

The jungle gave way to rocky outcroppings and the open water beyond. Judith and Jason emerged from the foliage, sweat and grime streaking their faces. Then, to their surprise, they saw a familiar figure stumbling toward the beach— a large ox-like figure with another man on his back.

"Chief!" Judith called out, rushing forward.

Tyson turned at the voice, exhaustion in his eyes. "Judith… Jason…"

"You're alive!" Jason exclaimed. "Wait, Robert?!"

Judith helped ease Robert down onto the rocky ground. His pulse was faint but still there. "He's losing a lot of blood," she said, checking the wounds quickly.

Tyson collapsed beside them, breath ragged. "I don't know if we'll have time for a proper evac. But we need to move. Military's flooding the place."

Jason stared up at the incoming helicopters flying overhead, some landing deeper inland. "That's not British. Are they French?"

"Don't know. Don't care," Tyson grunted. "All I know is they aren't with us, and if they find us snooping around this mess, we're gonna get locked down or worse."

"But… what about Brendon?" Jason asked, his voice soft.

Judith looked to Tyson, her jaw tight. "He was the reason we came here."

"I know," Tyson said, exhaling slowly. "But I can't risk Ridgecliff getting caught up in this. If we're compromised, the government could turn our whole town upside down. Everyone we know… our lives... all of it."

Jason frowned. "But Brendon could get captured."

Tyson nodded. "He's smart. Smarter than I gave him credit for. If anyone can slip out, it's him. But if we stay, we risk too much. We take Robert and go. Now."

Judith hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to wait, to find the wolf who had saved them. But Tyson's logic cut through the emotion. She nodded reluctantly. "Alright."

"Good," Tyson said. "Help me get him aboard."

The shoreline vessel they had hidden was still anchored just a few meters away. The team struggled across the rocks, lifting Robert's weakened body and lowering him into the seat of the small military craft.

Jason slid into the co-pilot seat, still shaking. Judith took the radio and tried to find a signal. Tyson, leaning heavily on the edge of the hull, turned to the jungle one last time.

The trees rustled. Gunfire echoed in the far distance. No sign of Brendon.

"Sorry, Brendon," Tyson muttered. "I hope you get out. I really do."

With that, he boarded, and Judith fired up the vessel's engine. The sleek, quiet hum carried them away from the burning island.

As the Lagooncrest Isle shrank behind them, swallowed by smoke and storm clouds, none of them looked back.