PROLOGUE
The wind howled through the trees, but the growl beneath it was louder.
Daniel adjusted his grip on the silver-lined dagger, eyes scanning the darkened forest. He could feel it—eyes watching, breath close. The scent of blood and fur clung to the cold air.
Then it struck.
A massive blur of muscle and teeth launched from the shadows, claws swiping through the air with terrifying speed. Daniel dove, rolled, came up with the dagger raised. The beast snarled, spinning back toward him.
The first blow came fast — claws slashing across his chest. His jacket tore open, flesh burning where the silver hadn’t reached in time.
He grunted, stumbled back, and slashed low — the blade cutting into the wolf’s thigh. It yelped but didn’t stop. Rage replaced pain. It lunged again.
Daniel threw a flash pellet to the ground — a burst of silver dust exploded between them. The wolf recoiled, howling as the light seared its eyes.
Panting, Daniel circled, keeping low. He studied its movements — limping slightly, but fast. Too fast.
The wolf charged once more, fangs bared.
Daniel waited… then stepped aside at the last second, plunging the dagger deep into its side.
The creature fell, whimpering, blood staining the ground.
But as Daniel stepped closer, dagger raised for the final blow… the beast shifted.
And what lay before him now…
Was a boy.
Daniel stood frozen, eyes locked on the boy sprawled in the dirt.
He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Pale skin smeared with blood and dirt, ribs heaving with every shallow breath. The transformation had left him barely conscious—more human than monster now.
And Daniel…
He couldn’t move.
Bzzzzt.
His earpiece crackled.
“Daniel. Do you have him?”
A pause.
Then, voice low, heavy with guilt—
“…Yes.”
Moments later, headlights cut through the trees. Black SUVs rolled in, silent and efficient. Doors opened. Men in white tactical suits stepped out—faces masked, movements robotic.
Daniel stepped back instinctively, unsure who they looked more like: doctors or soldiers.
One of them knelt beside the boy and plunged a long syringe into his neck. The boy jolted, eyes flying open. His body twisted in panic.
“No! Wait! What—what are you doing?!” he shouted, struggling weakly against their grips. “Stop—please!”
His eyes searched wildly—then locked on Daniel.
Desperate. Confused. Begging.
“What are they doing to me?” he yelled. “Why aren't you saying anything?!”
Daniel looked away.
The boy's voice cracked as he screamed again. “Say something!”
But the men said nothing. Just held him down until the serum took hold.
His limbs slackened. His cries turned to slurs. His eyes fluttered.
He slumped into unconsciousness.
They lifted him into the vehicle like cargo.
The forest fell silent.
Then came footsteps—measured, casual.
Brock stepped out of the shadows, sleeves rolled up, military boots crunching over leaves. Clean-cut. Calm. Too calm.
“Nice catch,” he said, approaching Daniel. “Clean work.”
Daniel didn't reply.
Brock reached into his coat, pulled out a cigarette. Lit it. Exhaled.
“Still not smoking?” he asked with a grin, holding one out.
Daniel stared at it for a second… then shook his head.
“Didn’t think so,” Brock said. “Still got that conscience thing going, huh?”
He glanced toward the SUV, where the boy now lay unconscious behind tinted glass.
“Don’t worry,” Brock said. “They’ll take good care of him.” "We hope at least", he said chuckling.
Daniel didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
