Chapter 20 – Wolves In The Den

The dome echoed with laughter.

It was strange – unnatural, almost – to hear it in the Burrow. The Grimm Institute wasn’t built for warmth. The air still tasted like copper and sterilization, the walls hummed with dormant sigils, and the lights flickered like they were afraid to stay on too long.

But in the centre of the arena – bare concrete ringed by containment pillars – something human stirred.

Dan chuckled as Victor stumbled back, his shoulder steaming slightly from the scorch mark Max had just left there.

“You’re getting sloppy, Beast-Boy,” Dan teased, hands still glowing faintly gold.

Victor growled, shaking out the smoke. “It’s called sparring, not battle.”

Max shrugged. “It was a love tap.”

Dan grinned. Max didn’t. But his lips curved slightly – close enough.

They were getting better. Training together had rhythm now. Max was learning to restrain the fire. Dan’s healing flared faster. Victor could shift partial limbs without losing control.

It was the closest thing they’d had to peace in weeks.

On the upper stairs, Alyssa leaned on the railing, chewing gum, watching with critical eyes.

“I still think Victor wins,” she muttered.

Chloe, seated beside her with her knees pulled up to her chest, tilted her head. “Max dodged everything. That counts.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Only if you think surviving is winning.”

Chloe didn’t answer. Her eyes never left Max.

Max stretched out his shoulder, fire dimming beneath the skin. “Alright,” he said, glancing toward Victor, “Round three?”

Victor raised a clawed hand, then paused.

His brow furrowed. The hairs along his jaw stiffened.

Max blinked. “You okay?”

Victor didn’t answer.

He turned slowly, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing like slits. The faint ridge of fur across his neck twitched. Then—

He growled.

Deep. Low. The kind of sound that came from the spine, not the throat.

“Victor?” Dan stepped closer, glowing hands half-raised. “You smell something?”

Victor’s voice came out hard. “Someone.”

Max froze.

Chloe sat up straighter. Alyssa stopped chewing.

Victor took three steps toward the edge of the ring, head tilted, sniffing the air. Then he dropped into a crouch, hand brushing the floor.

Max reached out with his own senses – he didn’t see any aura. Mostly. There were Institute wards around the training dome, and they interfered with aura detection. Still… there was a prickling sensation at the edge of his skin. The sensation of being watched.

Victor's claws clicked out.

“Eyes. Above us. No scent trail. But something’s bleeding heat.”

“Grimm’s always watching,” Dan said cautiously.

“No,” Victor growled. “Not cameras. Flesh.”

Max’s eyes flicked upward. The catwalks above were empty. So were the upper-tier windows.

Too empty.

And that’s when he felt it – the shift. Not in sight or sound, but in instinct. The same feeling he had in Singapore, when the circle had cracked and the demon had begun to rise.

Something was in here with them.

Max’s fire ignited in his palms – low, gold-tinged flame curling through his fingers.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s find out who likes watching people train.”

Victor didn’t wait for permission.

He launched.

A blur of fur and steel, claws extended – he shot toward a shadowed alcove in the far wall. The space was empty. But Victor hit it anyway.

And the air shattered.

Not glass but something like it. A veil.

Light bent. The illusion broke.

And Victor came down hard, pinning something beneath him. A figure. Female. Black hair. Combat braid. A white streak across it like a lightning scar.

Knives flew from her coat before she even hit the floor.

Alpha.

The illusion cracked like static across the dome. Something deeper broke too – the false sense of safety.

Max barely had time to turn before the ground shook and a new shadow landed behind him.

Omega.

Massive. Silent. Cracking his knuckles with calm inevitability.

Max flared full fire.

Dan’s eyes widened.

Chloe screamed.

Alyssa reached for a weapon she didn’t have.

And from somewhere above, a voice hissed:

“Shit.”

Contractor Kane.

…………………

Victor hit the ground hard, a snarl tearing from his throat as claws dug into Alpha’s armour. Blades gleamed in her fists—two already, maybe more hidden. She was not struggling. She was waiting.

Then she moved.

Alpha twisted beneath Victor, her knees snapping up into his ribs. She struck not to escape, but to create space—enough to drive a knife toward his exposed neck.

Max lunged. Fire cracked across the space in a pulse, and Alpha’s blade hissed against a conjured arc of soulfire. The force broke Victor’s grip and threw both of them apart.

Alpha landed in a crouch, one hand already spinning another blade between her fingers.

Victor rolled to his feet, animal eyes burning.

“What the hell is going on?” Max shouted.

The air trembled.

And then everything snapped back into focus.

A ripple spread from the point of impact where Victor had struck Alpha – Contractor Kane’s veil collapsing like a suffocating sheet lifted from the world.

The shadows peeled back.

And suddenly Max could feel them – Alpha, Omega, Kane – like ghosts that had been breathing down his neck for days. He felt Kane’s soulfield for the first time—a mass of dense fog, slippery and frayed at the edges, already trying to hide itself again.

Kane’s voice rang down from the rafters:

“You idiots were supposed to be invisible!”

Max turned, soulfire flaring. “You’ve been spying on us?”

“Fail-safe observation,” Alpha said evenly. “Orders came from Grimm. No contact unless containment fails.”

Victor growled. “You think this is containment?!”

“Right now?” Omega rumbled behind them, voice like a closing vault. “It looks like it’s failing.”

Max spun to face him.

Omega stood like a wall – massive, still, armoured in thick combat leather and soulsteel gauntlets. His hands were down. His presence wasn’t aggressive, but it didn’t need to be.

He looked like he could punch through the dome if he got bored enough.

Max took a single step forward, fire building around his arms.

“You’ve been inside this building, pretending to be ghosts, waiting for Grimm to give the word – what? To kill us? To take Liz?”

Alpha didn’t blink. “To monitor potential escalation.”

Victor’s claws clicked together.

“You were waiting for one of us to snap.”

Kane materialized beside the control panel – hood down now, expression coiled with irritation and strain.

“I didn’t want to be here,” Kane spat. “Grimm doesn’t even tell me what I’m masking anymore. You think I’m happy following orders I don’t understand?”

“You could’ve told us,” Max growled.

“You would’ve burned us on the spot.”

Max didn’t deny it.

Fire crawled along his arms now, shedding golden light that danced over the others like the reflection of a coming inferno.

Victor cracked his neck. “Let me go first.”

Alpha’s hand twitched – just one small movement.

Omega shifted his weight, adjusting his stance. Twin pistols were holstered at his hips, but his fists were already glowing with dense soul-impact force.

“You want to test us now,” Omega said, voice low, “you better be sure you’ve got enough left in you to walk away.”

Max bared his teeth. “I’ve got enough left to bury you.”

Dan stepped forward. “Max—”

Then the klaxon blared.

A sharp, repeating wail cut through the dome like a blade through silence. The lights overhead strobed red.

From the far blast doors, armed men and women in tactical gear flooded in – Institute soldiers in layered armour, each bearing rifles etched with sigils and soul-reactive tech. Helmets snapped into place. Training safeties deactivated.

Leading them was a man Max had almost forgotten.

Hawthorn.

The soldier from the extraction. Now dressed in command black, eyes sharp, mouth tight.

He raised a gloved hand.

“Everyone – stand down. Now.”

…………………

The moment stretched too thin. Tense.

Hawthorn stood at the head of two full squads – rifles raised, soul-chambers glowing faint blue, containment cuffs at the ready.

His voice cut through the klaxon like a blade.

“Stand down. Now.”

But the fire was already lit.

Max didn’t lower his hands.

Victor didn’t shift back.

Across from them, Alpha’s eyes narrowed. Omega’s stance widened – not attacking, not retreating. Just waiting for the word.

Kane vanished again, flickering into invisibility with a curse.

No one moved. No one blinked. Until—

Victor snarled.

Not at the soldiers. Not at Hawthorn.

At Omega.

The big man had shifted his heel – just slightly. It was enough.

Victor lunged.

He hit Omega like a freight train, claws slamming into his chest – scraping soulsteel, sending sparks flying. Omega grunted, slid backward half a step, then pivoted and drove a fist into Victor’s ribs.

The impact echoed like a cannon blast.

Victor crashed into a column hard enough to crack concrete.

Max’s flame exploded before Hawthorn could even shout.

Alpha was already moving—a storm of knives, whipping through the air like silver comets. Max spun, fire wreathing around him in a spiral, melting two blades mid-flight and dodging the third by inches.

“Goddamn it!” Hawthorn roared. “Hold fire! Do not engage!”

But it was too late.

Max closed the distance, launching a jet of golden fire at Alpha’s position. She vanished into the smoke of her own thrown flashblade, reappearing on his flank. Her blade raked across Max’s shoulder – cutting not just skin, but soul-layer, sending a spike of pain straight to his core.

Max gritted his teeth, grabbed her wrist, and flung her toward the centre of the ring.

Omega roared and charged, fists crackling. Victor met him mid-sprint, both of them colliding with enough force to shake the dome.

Energy burst outward in waves.

Dust rose. Screams echoed from the catwalks.

Someone – maybe Kane – was yelling: “Cancel the veil! Cancel the veil! He can see us now—”

Max raised a pillar of soulfire and smashed it down toward Alpha—

—and she vanished again. No – repositioned. She landed behind him, a dagger slicing for the base of his spine.

A wall of gold flared between them.

Dan.

The medic stood just outside the ring, eyes wide, hands glowing with a healing aura so dense it bent the air. His shield had caught Alpha’s strike mid-swing – just in time.

“You want to play games?” Dan snapped, stepping forward. “Then you answer to all of us.”

Alyssa came skidding in beside him, fists up.

“Tell me this isn’t normal here!”

Chloe followed, eyes wide with horror, pressing her hand to the containment pod’s console.

“Max! Liz’s vitals are spiking!”

Everyone stopped.

Even Omega.

Even Alpha.

Max froze – heart pounding.

Victor backed away from Omega, panting, blood in his teeth.

And from the observation glass above, a new voice – cold, elegant, in complete control – cut across the chaos.

“Enough.”

Dr. Grimm.

The fire dimmed in Max’s hands, but didn’t vanish.

Grimm’s silhouette stepped into full view above, eyes glowing faintly beneath his glasses.

“My instruments are still useful,” he said calmly. “Let’s not destroy the orchestra just yet.”

…………………

The fire in Max’s hands guttered, reluctant.

Victor growled once more but let his claws retract. His breath steamed in the cold air, body half-shifted – muscle twitching, beast barely caged. Across the scorched arena, Omega cracked his neck and stepped back, bruises already healing.

Alpha lowered her final blade, her face unreadable.

Kane’s veil reset with a hum, but nobody was fooled anymore.

Silence stretched.

Then Hawthorn’s boots thudded across the floor as he approached, rifle lowered but not slung.

He stopped a few meters from Max, visor retracted, jaw clenched. The scar along his cheek from their last mission together had faded to a pale memory but his eyes hadn’t softened.

“You want to tell me what the hell that was?” Hawthorn said.

Max stared at him. “Your operatives were ghosting us. You really want to ask me that question?”

Hawthorn looked over at Alpha and Omega. Then at Kane. Then back to Max.

“We weren’t cleared on the veil. Only Grimm’s orders. Surveillance protocol, tier black. Supposed to be passive.”

Max snorted. “Funny. They were real aggressive for passive.”

Grimm’s voice came again – unhurried, precise.

“Because you escalated, Max. Victor unmasked them.”

Max stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You’ve been lying to me since the second I walked in this place.”

“Incorrect,” Grimm replied. “I’ve simply chosen which truths you were ready to handle.”

Dan moved to Max’s side. “Then maybe it’s time we get all of them.”

Grimm’s gaze flicked toward him. “Healer Daniel Bailey. Newly awakened. Loyal, emotional. Not yet hardened. A liability, unless tempered.”

Dan’s hands glowed faintly again, but he said nothing.

Alyssa stepped in next, arms crossed tight across her chest.

“Are we prisoners here?” she snapped.

Grimm’s head tilted. “Not yet.”

Chloe, still by Liz’s pod, looked up. “She’s in pain.”

That, finally, changed Grimm’s tone.

He nodded once. “Her vitals are stabilizing again. The spike was temporary.”

“She felt it,” Chloe said. “When Max fought. She felt it. I saw it.”

Max turned to her. “What do you mean?”

Chloe hesitated. “She twitched. Not just her vitals – her face. Like she was screaming inside.”

A quiet ripple passed through the dome.

Grimm’s silence this time was longer.

Then he spoke – not to the group, but to Hawthorn.

“Clear the room. Escort Alpha, Omega, and Kane to upper debriefing. Max and his team remain.”

Hawthorn frowned. “You sure?”

Grimm nodded. “They’re owed… context.”

Kane gave Max one last look – half smug, half cautious – before vanishing back into the veil.

Alpha and Omega turned wordlessly.

They didn’t speak to Grimm.

They didn’t speak to Max.

They just left.

Hawthorn gestured to his troops. Within seconds, the entire dome was empty – just Max, his team, and the humming pod holding Liz Jaeger.

Grimm stepped down from the observation deck, coat swirling like smoke around his heels.

He didn’t blink as he looked at Max.

“Very well,” Grimm said. “Let’s talk.”

…………………

The debriefing room was white, silent, and clinical – too clean for what had just happened.

A long obsidian table bisected the space, soulsteel chairs arranged with mathematical precision. Monitors flickered dimly along the far wall, each blank but active, watching without eyes.

Max sat at the far end, fire coiled under his skin like a caged animal. Dan leaned on the wall beside him, arms crossed. Alyssa and Chloe flanked Liz’s pod, now wheeled into the corner of the room by Grimm’s silent technicians. Victor stood behind Max – still shirtless, still bleeding, arms crossed like a bouncer waiting for an excuse.

Grimm sat alone across from them, gloved fingers laced on the tabletop.

He didn’t speak immediately.

He let the silence stretch – not out of cruelty, but out of calculation.

Finally, he said, “You’re not prisoners. You’re guests under high security. I brought you here because you’re valuable.”

“You mean dangerous,” Max said.

Grimm didn’t deny it.

“I mean… unpredictable.”

Max’s voice was cold. “And your solution was to plant assassins in the walls?”

“Alpha and Omega are containment specialists. Observation only, unless thresholds are crossed.”

Victor stepped forward. “You crossed a threshold today.”

Grimm looked at him – truly looked. “Yes. I did. And you responded… as expected.”

Dan narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

Grimm folded his hands. “Max. You devoured Aamon. A Demon Lord. You bent the laws of this world. You summoned Hellfire that shouldn’t exist anymore. You awakened four souls – five including your daughter. You did all of this without collapsing your own.”

He paused.

“I needed to know what you are.”

Max stared at him. “And now you do?”

“No.” Grimm’s expression was completely still. “Now I only know that you’re real. And that terrifies me.”

He stood, slowly.

“I won’t lie to you again – not directly. But I also won’t tell you everything. The world is collapsing. Demon Lords are moving. One of them has already breached three layers of containment across the Eurasian faultline. Another has opened a gateway in Africa. There are more incursions than I can seal.”

He looked at Max.

“And you are not a weapon. You’re not even a soldier. You’re a wildcard. I don’t trust wildcards. But I can’t discard them, either.”

Max stood as well. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t flare his fire.

But his presence filled the room like heat rising through stone.

“I didn’t come here to play your game,” Max said. “I came here to protect my daughter. To keep the people I care about alive. And I’ve done that without your knives in the walls, or veiled men on the ceiling.”

Grimm said nothing.

Max stepped around the table. Slowly.

He stopped inches from the older man – close enough to see the glint of burnout behind his eyes, the exhaustion dressed as control.

“If you lie to me again,” Max said quietly, “you won’t need Alpha or Omega to stop me. You won’t even see me coming.”

He turned toward the pod. “And if you touch Liz… I’ll burn this place to ash.”

Victor didn’t speak, but the rumble in his chest was agreement enough.

Dan nodded once. “We’re done playing Institute games.”

Alyssa popped her gum, arms folded. “Finally.”

Chloe stayed quiet, just placing her hand against the glass of Liz’s pod. The heartbeat monitor pulsed softly – strong. Stable.

Grimm remained still as they filed out – one by one.

But just before the door closed, he spoke.

“Max…”

Max paused. Looked back.

Grimm didn’t blink.

“You’re right. About me. About this place. But the demon hunting me… it waits for me to slip. It wants me to fail. I live with that every day.”

A long silence.

“Be careful what you set on fire. You might end up being the thing that burns last.”

The door hissed shut behind them.