Page 8 of Claws and Effect

Laykin checked her watch—2:30 PM. Plenty of time to return to the castle and prepare for tonight’s gala. “Thank you all. We’ll reconvene next month to review progress.”

As the board filed out, Laykin gathered her materials, her mind already shifting to the evening ahead. The strange morning encounter with Gerri Wilder had receded to the background during the meeting, but now those silver eyes from her vision resurfaced in her thoughts.

Her security detail waited discreetly by the door—two lion shifters in professional suits, earpieces betraying their true purpose. “Ready when you are, Your Highness.”

Fifteen minutes later, Laykin settled into the back seat of her sleek black SUV, the city giving way to countryside as they took the private road toward the Summit Ancestral Castle. Unlike this morning’s ceremonial limousine, this vehicle—with bulletproof glass and reinforced armor—served practical security needs rather than royal image.

She kicked off her pumps and massaged her feet, grateful for the privacy partition that allowed this small break from perfect princess posture. Tonight’s gala loomed large in her mind. Meeting the Rubin delegation. Meeting Zyle.

The SUV slowed unexpectedly, pulling Laykin from her thoughts.

“Ma’am?” the driver called through the intercom. “There’s a vehicle stopped ahead.”

Laykin slipped her feet back into her shoes, instantly alert. “What kind of vehicle?”

“Looks like a delivery truck. Hazards on.” A pause. “Security protocol suggests we turn around and take the alternate route.”

“Proceed with caution,” she instructed, unease prickling along her spine.

The SUV stopped, maintaining a safe distance from the unmarked white van blocking half the narrow road. Through tinted windows, Laykin watched her lead security officer step from the passenger seat, hand resting near his concealed weapon as he approached the truck.

He never made it halfway.

Black-clad figures erupted from the trees on both sides of the road, tactical gear identifying them as professionals rather than opportunistic attackers. The security officer dropped immediately—tranquilizer dart protruding from his neck.

“Ambush!” the driver shouted through the intercom, throwing the SUV into reverse.

Metal spikes deployed across the road behind them, shredding the tires with explosive force. The vehicle lurched violently, throwing Laykin against her seat belt.

Her training kicked in. She grabbed the secure phone from its compartment, pressed the emergency beacon, and assessed her options. The reinforced doors would hold temporarily, but with both security officers down, she faced unavoidable confrontation.

Three attackers surrounded the vehicle while two more dragged her unconscious guards into the trees. A masked face appeared at her window, methodically attaching something to the glass. Laykin recognized the device—a specialized charge designed to breach shifter-reinforced vehicles.

She had seconds, not minutes.

Laykin shrugged out of her blazer and prepared to fight. Her lioness stirred beneath her skin, claws itching to emerge, but she held the shift in check. Partial transformation offered advantages—enhanced strength without sacrificing human dexterity.

The window beside her exploded inward, safety glass crumbling in tiny cubes rather than deadly shards. Before the smoke cleared, Laykin lunged through the opening, catching her attacker by surprise. Her elbow connected with their throat, dropping them to their knees.

She landed on the asphalt, immediately pivoting to face the next threat. Two more masked figures converged. Laykin’s fingers extended into deadly claws, her canines sharpening as she allowed her partial shift.

“The princess comes with us,” one attacker commanded, voice distorted by their tactical mask. “Cooperate and avoid unnecessary pain.”

“Fascinating offer,” Laykin replied, maintaining her fighting stance. “Here’s my counter-proposal.”

She launched forward, using her lioness speed to close the distance before they could react. Her claws slashed across body armor—not penetrating, but the force staggered her opponent backward. She followed with a knee to their midsection, driving the air from their lungs.

The second attacker caught her arm, attempting to lock it behind her back. Laykin dropped her weight suddenly, the unexpected move breaking their grip. As she spun to counterattack, her heel caught on the rough pavement, snapping with a sharp crack.

“Seriously?” she muttered, glancing down at her broken shoe. The momentary distraction cost her as something sharp stung her shoulder.

Laykin ripped out the tranquilizer dart, but already the edges of her vision blurred. Shifter-grade sedative, fast-acting and potent. Her lioness roared in defiance, temporarily burning away the fog.

She kicked off her useless broken shoes, bare feet finding better purchase on the rough road. “Add those to your tab,” she growled at the nearest attacker. “Calvin Klein, last season but still pricey.”

Despite her bravado, Laykin recognized her deteriorating situation. Three more attackers emerged from a second vehicle, surrounding her in a tightening circle. The tranquilizer slowed her reactions, each movement requiring increased concentration.

A masked figure raised another dart gun. Laykin tensed to dodge, calculating her diminishing odds.

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