The hum of the garage filled the morning air — a rhythm of steel and oil, of youth and ambition. Sunlight cut through the wide-open door in dusty slants, catching the gleam of metal panels and engine grease. Somewhere in the corner, a speaker hummed a soft playlist of old rock classics, barely audible over the clatter of tools.
Raze sat hunched over the stripped-down chassis of his Hummer H3, fingers moving with precision across the diagnostic tablet connected to its power core. His black T-shirt was streaked with grease, and a thin smudge ran across his cheek like a badge of honor. Across the garage, Nick worked under the hood of his '79 Dodge Challenger, the air heavy with the smell of motor oil and solder.
"You know," Nick said, half-grinning, wiping his hands on a rag, "I still can't believe this is our senior project. Everyone else is building birdhouses or go-karts, and you're out here rewriting the laws of thermodynamics."
Raze chuckled, eyes never leaving his screen. "Someone's gotta push the limits. Besides," — he tapped the tablet, watching code stream down — "this isn't just a car. It's a field test."
Nick frowned, leaning back against his Challenger. "Field test? For what?"
Raze hesitated. He had wanted to keep it quiet for a while longer, but honesty between them had always come naturally. He tossed the tablet onto a workbench and pulled a folder from a drawer — thick, worn, and labeled with a hand-drawn logo of a wolf's head overlaying a gear.
"I call it LUPIN SYSTEMS," Raze said simply.
Nick blinked. "You actually made it a company?"
Raze nodded. "Yeah. It started with the coding project I told you about — Nova's integration protocols. But it grew. I bought out a few small, dead tech firms, some defunct research patents, and... well, it snowballed."
"How much of a snowball?" Nick asked, smirking as he took the folder.
Raze's expression softened — serious now. "Twenty-eight point six million."
Nick froze. "…You're joking."
"I wish." Raze leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Between the patents, the integration software, and the AI-based diagnostic tools... we're sitting on a mini tech empire."
Nick looked up slowly, the weight of the number sinking in. "And you're what, seventeen?"
"Sixteen and a half," Raze corrected with a shrug. "Skipped a year, remember?"
Nick let out a low whistle. "Jesus, Raze... does your mom know?"
Raze's smirk faltered. "Not yet. She will soon, though. I set her up as the CEO."
Nick blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah. She and I both hold thirty percent of the shares. You get twelve. Mara gets nine. That leaves me with twenty to use for expansions and charity work. I want this to mean something, Nick. Not just another company — a legacy."
For a moment, the garage went quiet — just the sound of the wind and a faint click from the tools. Then Nick laughed softly, shaking his head. "You really don't think small, do you?"
Raze smirked. "Wouldn't be fun if I did."
Nick's laughter died as he noticed a paper poking out from under a folder. Curious, he slid it free and froze when he saw what it was: a Navy application, fully filled out and signed.
"Raze," Nick said quietly, holding it up, "you're joining the Navy?"
Raze's jaw tightened. "Planning to. If I'm going to build something meant to protect people... I need to understand the ones who actually do it."
Nick's grin faded into something more solemn. "You're serious about this."
"As serious as I am about family." Raze glanced toward the staircase leading up to the house. "Mom deserves to know her work mattered. That what she built... will outlive us."
Nick looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Then you're damn right. We'll build this together."
The two bumped fists, a quiet pact sealed between brothers not by blood, but by bond.
---
Dusk at the School
The last bell had rung hours ago, and the halls were empty now except for the hum of old lights and the scratching of Mara's pen as she leaned over the yearbook proofs. The glow of her laptop lit her face — framed by soft auburn hair, her eyes sharp with focus, though tiredness tugged at the corners.
"Just one more page," she whispered to herself, adjusting her glasses. The rest of the student council had left after the meeting. She liked these quiet hours — they helped her think.
Outside, the light had dimmed into deep purple. Her phone buzzed — a text from Nick.
> Nick: You home yet?
Mara: Finishing yearbook. Don't worry, I'll lock up.
Nick: You sure? It's late.
Mara: I'm the president. Comes with the territory. 😅
She smiled, locked her phone, and began packing her bag. But as she stepped into the hall, the quiet shifted. The kind of silence that listened back.
Her heart beat faster. The sound of slow, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
"...Hello?"
No answer.
She moved toward the exit, clutching her keys. As she neared the glass doors, a figure stepped from the shadows of the parking lot.
"Hey, Mara."
Her stomach sank. James Thompson.
The varsity baseball player. The one she'd been politely avoiding for weeks.
"James, what are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone steady.
"Just wanted to talk," he said, voice smooth, too calm. His eyes gleamed unnaturally in the light. "You've been ignoring me."
"I told you, I'm dating Nick," she said firmly. "You need to stop this."
James smiled thinly. "You really think he deserves you?"
Something in his tone made her step back — predatory, dark. He took another step forward.
Mara turned, bolting back inside. Her heels echoed on the tile as she sprinted toward the office. She didn't notice the janitor — James's cousin — locking the front doors behind her, the key turning with a metallic snap.
---
The Hunt
Across town, in the garage, Nova's voice broke the quiet.
> "Alert: Emotional distress signal detected — target: Mara Daniels."
Raze's head snapped up. "What?"
Nick dropped the wrench. "What do you mean, distress signal?"
> "Facial recognition match: Mara Daniels, live feed — Roosevelt High, west corridor. Heart rate elevated. Estimated risk level: critical."
Raze didn't hesitate. "Grab the keys."
Nick didn't ask which ones.
---
The Confrontation
The Challenger roared to life, tires screaming as it tore down the streets. Raze's voice was calm, too calm. "Nova, trace building layout."
> "Sending route to your interface. Two hostiles detected."
Nick's knuckles whitened. "Two?"
"Cousin must be there too," Raze muttered. "Perfect."
When they arrived, the school loomed like a dark fortress. Inside, James had cornered Mara in the photography lab, his posture animalistic, eyes glowing faintly gold — his Woge beginning to crack through the human mask.
"You shouldn't have run," he hissed. "I just wanted to talk."
She backed into the counter, hand trembling around a camera tripod.
Then the door burst open.
Nick hit James like a freight train, tackling him through a desk. The sound echoed through the lab. "You stay the hell away from her!"
The janitor lunged from behind — but was met with Raze's elbow, a brutal strike to the ribs followed by a sweep that sent him sprawling. His eyes flared yellow — Ziegvolk. Raze didn't flinch.
The fight was vicious, fast. Nick's training and baseball reflexes met raw Grimm instinct. Raze's movements were surgical — every strike measured, efficient. But they were still human, and the Woge gave their enemies a monstrous strength.
Until the growl.
Low. Guttural. Ancient.
Onyx crashed through the window, scales shimmering red, his fur rippling like firelight. The moment his paws hit the floor, both Ziegvolks froze, terror flashing in their eyes.
He was no dog — he was a predator from myth.
Onyx lunged, tackling James to the ground. The hellhound's eyes burned crimson, his scales vibrating like the hiss of a snake's tail. The janitor swung a pipe, but Raze intercepted, catching it mid-air and driving his knee into the man's gut.
When the sirens finally came, both Ziegvolks were unconscious, restrained, and whimpering.
Nick exhaled hard, adrenaline fading. He turned to Mara, who was trembling, her hands still gripping the tripod. "It's over," he said softly.
She nodded, then broke into tears. Nick pulled her close.
Raze looked around — blood, glass, chaos — and quietly murmured, "Nova... alert Mom."
---
The Aftermath
Marie arrived within twenty minutes.
Her coat still bore the faint insignia of the UN, her eyes calm but burning. The officers stepped back instinctively when she entered.
"Where are they?" she asked.
An officer pointed to the restrained men. She glanced at them once, then turned to her boys. Nick's shirt was torn; Raze's knuckles bled. Mara's eyes were red, but she was safe. That was all that mattered.
"Home," she said simply.
"Mom—" Raze began.
"Now."
Even Onyx obeyed.
---
Postscript — "Retribution"
Later that night, the house was quiet. The boys were asleep on the couch, Mara curled up under a blanket between them. Onyx lay by the door, his tail slowly thumping in his sleep.
Marie stood in the doorway, watching them. Her expression softened — proud, relieved, and heartbroken all at once.
Mara stirred, waking slightly. "Mrs. Jaxon... I'm sorry for all this. I didn't mean to—"
Marie stopped her gently. "You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. You're family now. You always have a place here."
Mara nodded, voice trembling. "I didn't tell you... I don't really have anyone else nearby. My brother's training out of state, and I didn't want to worry him."
Marie smiled faintly. "Then it's good you have us."
When the house was finally still, Marie slipped out quietly — her coat folded over her arm, her UN badge clipped in place. She drove through the sleeping city, headlights cutting through the mist, until she reached a concrete facility guarded by Wesen Council agents.
The prison doors opened with a hiss.
Inside, the air smelled of metal and regret. The two Ziegvolks sat shackled in the interrogation room — bloodied, trembling, and very much aware of who she was.
Marie stepped into the light. Her gaze was cold fire.
"You know who I am," she said quietly, setting her badge on the table.
They didn't answer. They didn't need to.
"You attacked my family," she continued, each word slow, deliberate. "You hunted a child under my roof."
Her eyes flared — for the briefest moment, something other flickered behind them. The whisper of her Grimm blood.
"James Thompson," she said softly, her tone shifting — a faint, razor-edged trace of German curling the syllables, ancient and sharp.
"Du hast mein Rudel berührt. Und das war dein letzter Fehler."
(You touched my pack. And that was your last mistake.)
The room fell silent.
Outside, thunder rolled across the Portland sky.
Fade to black.
---
End of Chapter 6 — "The Chasing of Shadows."