The shadows stretched long through the alleyway when Beto finally dared to open his eyes. The massacre had ended and silence reigned with its overwhelming weight. Swallowing hard, he pushed himself up on his good arm, staring wide-eyed at the mutilated and dismembered bodies surrounding him.

What the hell had that thing been? With shaky legs, he managed to get to his feet, leaning against the wall. A groan of pain escaped his lips when he moved his dislocated shoulder. He had to get out of there and report this as soon as possible, before that monster came back to finish the job.

Limping heavily, he made his way down the alley away from the carnage. The images of the beast with glowing eyes and bloodied fangs would haunt him for the rest of his life. He reached the main street and dragged himself toward his truck without looking back. Once inside, he sped off toward their main hideout.

Later that night, Beto burst into the decrepit apartment building that served as the cartel's base of operations for Riquelme. He staggered down the dark hallways, moaning in pain until he reached the main hall where the kingpin ran the business from his throne, a battered armchair.

"Boss...Riquelme!" he slurred in a hoarse voice, drawing all eyes. "We have...to flee! It killed...everyone!"

The huge, burly man narrowed his small, cruel eyes as he spotted the wounded henchman. He rose slowly, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? Who were the bastards who dared to touch my men?"

Beto shook his head frantically, almost crazed with fear.

"It wasn't anyone we thought boss, it was a monster! A demon that can't be killed! It massacred all the guys who went to seize the old woman's warehouse like you ordered!"

A heavy silence followed his words. Riquelme looked at him with a mixture of mockery and anger, cracking his pudgy fingers.

"A demon, you say? Are you going to tell me the chupacabra was with it too? Don't come at me with stupid shit..." He approached the man in a menacing stride. "You better have a damn good explanation for such incompetence and cowardice..."

Beto backed away, shaking his head again, eyes wide.

"No boss, I swear! It was a being faster and stronger than any human. I saw it take out the guys one by one despite taking fire from all our weapons! It used its own claws and fangs..."

Riquelme eyed the wounded Beto with narrowed eyes, his brow furrowed in an expression of disgust and doubt. He clicked his tongue loudly.

"And you expect me to believe that far-fetched tale so easily, you idiot? A 'demon' that massacred all my men?" He spat on the floor in disdain. "You better have hard proof if you don't want me to shut you up for good."

Beto swallowed hard, sweat beading his brow. He shook his head frantically.

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"I swear on my life, boss! I've never failed you, I wouldn't make something like that up. Not even all the guys' bullets could do anything to it!"

He dropped to his knees before Riquelme, eyes wide with terror.

"I have the bruises it inflicted on me to prove it. I saw it rip off limbs and heads effortlessly with its bare hands...or claws. It was a bloodthirsty beast."

He opened his shirt, showing the terrible black and bruised marks covering his skin. Riquelme narrowed his eyes at the sight, weighing his words. Finally, after a tense silence, he waved a hand in concession.

"Alright, alright, I believe you this time only because it's you saying it. For now, I believe that bullshit story." He turned to his men with a somber expression. "I want you to fully investigate this matter and find out what the hell it was that attacked the people I sent to the village. If it's true that it's a supernatural being like the idiot says, I want you to capture it at all costs, you have permission to use the big guns!"

♢♢♢♢

Arnaud hurried back to where he had left Arturo and Juana. The warm glow of the electric lamps still shone through the shop windows, a sign that its occupants were still inside.

He smiled with relief and quickened his pace to reunite with them after the bloody battle. He was eager to tell Arturo of his victory over the pursuers. However, as he got closer, he did not detect the comforting scent of the little boy. He frowned as a bad feeling invaded him…

He pushed open the door and entered, his keen senses sniffing the air. Nothing, not a trace of the child or Juana. The place had been abandoned very recently. With a sinking heart, Arnaud inspected the rooms but no one was there.

"Arturo? Juana?" he called in a deep, worried voice.

No one answered. Only absolute silence reigned in that place that was supposed to be their new home together with the boy. A growl escaped his throat as he thought that perhaps they had been attacked by someone else in his absence. If that was the case, he would find them and make them pay for their audacity.

His eyes then caught sight of a small bundle abandoned on the bed. He approached and took it with trembling hands. It was Arturo's old stuffed toy, a plush bear he had insisted on keeping at all costs.

And now it was here, forgotten and filthy amidst the rumpled sheets. Arnaud clutched it to his chest, growling with rage and grief. Was he destined to lose everything over and over again? His mind recalled another equally painful memory from his youth:

Jean-Pierre saw Arnaud as he cried disconsolately in the corner of the barn, his little eyes swollen from so much crying. Jean approached him worriedly and knelt by his side.

"What's wrong, friend? Have they hurt you?" he asked softly.

Little Arnaud nodded and hid his face between his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs…

♢♢♢♢

"No Arnaud, please! This time you've gone too far! You're going to hurt Gaston..."

A solitary tear rolled down his cheek as he remembered what had happened next. The blood, the screams, the looks of horror when he confronted them with the truth about his nature. It had been the beginning of the end for his first friendship and the life he had known.

With a stormy look, he pocketed the stuffed animal and strode out of there. He had to find them as soon as possible, before the sun came up and left him defenseless again. However, as soon as he crossed the threshold, the first rays of dawn began to tinge the horizon orange.

A growl of frustration and powerlessness escaped his throat. He had to take shelter until nightfall. Then, under the cover of darkness, he would set out to search for them relentlessly. He had to find them no matter what.