When the first bolt slid back, Zubair didn't wait for the second.
He drove his palm into the seam and forced the reinforced door inward with sheer intent, metal groaning as it surrendered. The lock mechanism protested with a grinding whine, then snapped hard enough to throw sparks. The door swung open in a jerking arc.
Luci surged through first. Not barking. Not charging blindly.
Instead, the dire wolf flowed into the darkness like it belonged there, head low, shoulders rolling, nose working in sharp pulls. His paws landed without noise, but his presence filled the corridor anyway.
Zubair followed so close he nearly clipped the wolf's flank.
Heat shimmered around him in tight bands, contained and lethal, ready to be directed. He didn't look at the door. He didn't look at Hattie. His world had narrowed to one thing: whatever was on the other side of this threshold had taken Sera, and that made the threshold wrong.
