Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, what light there was casting pale and sickly shadows across the blood-spattered walls. The room stank of gunpowder, thick in the air, a smell mingled with the bitter tang of spilt blood. Crimson soaked the plush carpet, bullet holes riddled the walls and ceiling. Chairs and tables lay overturned, the wreckage marred with claw marks, fire-blackened edges curling in defeat.
Bodies lay where they’d fallen. Some in suits, others in uniforms, radios crackling with static. Outside, the city thrummed on, oblivious to the slaughter in this small pocket of violence, or else indifferent to it. It had seen worse.
I stood in the middle of it, just breathing it in, fists clenching and unclenching as I scanned the wreckage. Then I saw her. Evelyn. Curled up on the floor, blood pooling under her leg. A growl rumbled up from somewhere deep inside me. She was hit. Shrapnel? A stray bullet perhaps?
I didn’t think too much. The window next to me was already shattered, glass hanging in jagged pieces from the frame. A punch, and it all came down with a screech, falling to the streets below. The city air rushed in, bitter and harsh, stinging at my face, filling my nose with its foul, acidic stench.
I scooped her up, tossing her over my shoulder. Sirens echoed, closer now, and I could hear the boots behind me—soldiers, guns, the click of safeties coming off. They fired.
It leapt.
The fall was fast. Wind howled past my ears, whipping my clothes around me. I reached out, fingers catching the ledge of a nearby building. It crumbled in my grip, but slowed me just enough. My claws dug into the wall, scraping down the rough concrete until I hit the ground with a hard thud.
A herd of passersby went quiet for a heartbeat, their faces pale. Then, a scream tore through the silence, and they scattered. I ignored them, heading straight for the car, where I laid Evelyn down in the backseat as gently as I could.
“Roadman,” I said. The dash lit up. “Put me through to the chief.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
The line clicked, Chief Anderson’s voice came through. “Chris. Your call was flagged as an emergency. What’s going on?”
“Evelyn’s been shot,” I said, pressing down on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. “Right thigh. Deep femoral, I think. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her kidnappers are still out there. I don’t trust the hospitals to keep her safe..”
Anderson was silent for a moment, then, “I understand. Bring her in. We’ll put her in witness protection. Medics would be ready for her when she arrives.”
I let out a long breath through clenched teeth. “Thanks, Chief.”
“Reinforcements are on their way, Chris. Stay put. Don’t do anything reckless.”
My jaw tightened. I grunted in response.
“Understood.”
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Nikos sat hunched in the back of the SUV, fingers clutching at his robe wrapped tight around him. His breath came in short gasps, and sweat slicked his face. He hadn’t felt fear like this in years. This thundering in his chest… it was such an unfamiliar feeling.
“Boss,” Adea, his bodyguard, whispered, his eyes narrowed as he pointed up through the windshield. “You see that?”
Nikos leaned forward. High up on a building’s side, a figure crouched, silhouetted by the sun.
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“It’s him,” Adea said. “He’s looking for us.”
Nikos’s breath caught in his throat. “Fuck,” he whispered, punching the door of the car. Beside him, Amelia whimpered. He turned on her, eyes blazing with hate. This was her fault. All of it.
She hadn’t been the first. Nikos had seen plenty of them crawl into his bed. Most of them wanted money, power, a promotion. She’d been different, or so he’d thought. She hadn’t asked for anything. He’d been a fool.
Amelia had come to him months ago, saying she was pregnant. Maybe his child. She wanted a divorce, wanted him to take her in—as a mistress perhaps; a wife most likely. Nikos had always wanted a child of his own. Her offer had tempted him, but he knew better. Knew what kind of trouble such a decision would bring. Talk less of the fact that Goldilocks, his wife, would have killed him should she ever find out.
So he’d made a deal. He gave Amelia what she had always wanted—status, influence, wealth. It should have ended there. But her husband had found out, and in his rage, threatened to expose it all. Taking the sister had been a simple fix. Just enough to put pressure on the man and make him back down.
But they hadn’t predicted this.
The SUV turned a corner, breaking Nikos’s line of sight. He breathed a little easier, hoping they’d make it to the condo before the supe found them. Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up to the building. Nikos was the first out, bolting for the door when he heard the sound of metal crunching behind him.
He turned. The roof of the SUV caved in under the weight of something massive, something with long, sinewy limbs. The supe crouched there, muscles coiled, fur bristling in the wind. his eyes coloured rust and obsidian, lips curled back to reveal rows of gleaming fangs. A growl rumbled forth from its chest.
Nikos froze.
It leapt.
Adea’s forcefield snapped into place just in time, the creature slamming into it with a snarl. “Run!” Adea shouted, drawing his weapon. Nikos stumbled after Amelia, heart hammering, the supe’s roar ringing in his ears.
They reached the elevator just as Chris broke through the glass. The doors closed behind Nikos, and for a moment, everything was silent. Then, the sound of something tearing at the walls. Something angry. Something seemingly unstoppable.
The elevator shuddered, the numbers climbing slowly, too slowly.
Fifty-two. Fifty-three. The doors slid open.
Nikos ran.
“What is happening?” Onir, Goldilocks—his wife—stood in the doorway of their apartment, her golden hair shimmering in the light. Nikos didn’t answer. He ran past her, taking shelter behind her body as the elevator groaned under the force of whatever was outside.
The doors shook. Bent. Claws curled around the edges, prying them apart. The supe forced his way in, eyes fixed on Nikos.
“And who the hell do you think you are?” Onir hissed, her hair lengthening, growing, moving of its own accord, filling the space between them and the monster.
Chris didn’t answer. He lunged.
Onir’s hair shot forward, wrapping around him, slowing but not stopping him. He reached for Nikos. His claws scraped at him, inches from his face, but Onir pulled the supe away at the last second. Chris lunged again, jaws clamping down on Nikos’ ankle. Pain exploded, white-hot and searing, like someone dropped a flashbang in his head.
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“NO!” Onir screamed. She pulled harder, her hair tightening around the limbs of the creature that had just bitten off her husband’s foot, binding it. But it fought on, inching closer, step by step, until finally—
Boots thundered down the hall. A rifle barrel swung around the corner. Then another. “Everyone freeze!” ordered the SWAT team peeking around the corner. Pushing past them were two towering SPURs holding up ballistic shields.
Onir didn’t let go. “I’m not letting him go,” she growled. “He tried to kill my husband.”
The lead operative who spoke hesitated. Then, he turned to the creature, still writhing in the coils of Onir’s hair.
“Corporal,” he said, his voice firm. “Chief Anderson has ordered you to stand down. Will you comply?”
The werewolf went still for a moment. Then for several moments more as it sat there as if in thought. In the end, a throaty rumble emanated from its chest. Slowly, its body began to change. Fur receded. Claws shrank. The monstrous figure collapsed until all that remained was a ragged man.
Onir’s mane loosened its hold. The SPURs moved in, slapping heavy restraints on the man’s wrists. He didn’t fight.
She watched them drag him away, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Behind the operatives, medics rushed in to tend to Nikos, the receptionist and the half-naked woman who had followed them in. Onir was still very much confused about what was going on.
“What the fuck was all that about?”