The door shattered inward with a deafening crack, wood splintering and hinges screeching in protest as a wall of bodies surged through. Emrys jerked back in fright, heart lurching into his throat. The air changed, thickened with the sudden stink of wet fur, iron, and something older and animal beneath it all, a musk that bypassed language and went straight to instinct.

One of the intruders peeled off without breaking stride. He was thick-necked and feral-eyed. With a howl of motion, he slammed his bat into the television. The screen burst, shower of sparks, broken glass, and static squealing before it collapsed in ruin across the floorboards. The violence was casual, almost gleeful. The sound made Emrys flinch again, his head whipping toward it.

And that was when they took Quill. He barely registered the net, just a blur of motion, a shout, the sudden void where the bird had been. The net snapped shut, cinched tight by thick fingers. Quill’s screech split the air, furious and frightened, before vanishing behind a wall of leather and motion. 

[color=6ea8d6]“Quill!”[/color] Emrys shouted, instinct yanking him forward. His hand reached, half-lifted, but it was like grabbing smoke. The weight of his own uselessness struck hard. No fire, no strength, not even a ward to hold the line. The apartment that had been his safe space now felt like a cage, and he was the one locked inside it. The thief was already gone, retreating through the crowd with practiced ease. 

[color=6ea8d6]“Let him go,”[/color] Emrys said, voice sharp and dry in his throat. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t a plea either. It was the only thing he could say that didn’t feel like crumbling.

He froze as the rest of them closed in. Heavy boots scuffed across wood. Chains clinked, one dragging across the floor with an ugly, dull scrape. Eyes gleamed, some smiled, and some licked their lips. Emrys couldn’t tell if it was for show, or if they simply didn’t know how not to look like predators anymore.

The stink was overpowering now. Sweat, breath, leather soaked in blood and rain. One of them sniffed at him, actually sniffed, with a sound too wet, too canine to be mistaken for anything else.

The largest of them stepped forward. The leader, most likely. A titan in a threadbare Hawaiian shirt stretched tight over a barrel chest. His beard looked like it had been grown for war. Eyes like dull coals locked on Emrys with dispassionate focus. He didn’t bare his teeth, didn’t growl. He didn’t have to. He slapped the bat into his palm with a hollow thud.

[quote]“We need you to do us a favour…”[/quote]

Emrys didn’t speak. He stood there, fists weakly clenched, staring at the spot where Quill had been. The chalk dust still clung to his palms. All his effort, his circles, his trying… Nothing, now.

If this was the only way forward, if it meant getting Quill back, then fine. He wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t beg. All he could do was try.

[hider=Synopsis]Emrys watches helplessly as Werewolves shatter his home, kidnap his familiar, and force him into a choice he's not ready to make.[/hider]