Chapter Four: Into The Abyss
1045 Words
The man-creature sighed. "Enough."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent her flying backwards.
Her body crashed against the pavement. Pain jolted through her spine, knocking the breath from her lungs.
She coughed, forcing herself up, the gun shaking in her grip. "You work for Voss?"
The man’s expression didn’t change. "I don’t work for him."
Evelyn’s heart pounded. "Then who the hell are you?"
For the first time, his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. "A warning."
Then he was gone.
Not walking. Not running. Just… gone.
Like he had melted into the night.
Evelyn’s breath came in sharp bursts. Her arm throbbed, her ribs ached, but nothing hurt worse than the realization settling in her gut.
This was bigger than Voss. Bigger than her father’s case.
And she had just made herself a target.
Breaking the Chain
Back at the precinct, Evelyn paced her office, piecing it together. Decker was gone, locked up, but that didn’t solve anything.
The werewolves. The stranger in the parking lot. Voss.
How deep did this go?
She pulled out the files, cross-referencing everything her father had worked on. There had to be a link. A pattern.
Then—she found it.
A series of missing persons cases. All men. All officers.
All are linked to Voss Enterprises.
Her father wasn’t the first cop who went after Voss.
And he wouldn’t be the last.
A chill spread through her.
She was next.
Morning came so soon. Evelyn didn’t sleep. She barely moved from her desk, pouring over files, trying to make sense of them.
A knock at her door made her jump.
Ramirez stood there, holding two coffee cups. "You look like hell."
Evelyn took the coffee without a word, sipping it mechanically.
Ramirez frowned. "Talk to me."
Evelyn hesitated. If she told him the truth, he’d think she lost her mind. But if she didn’t—
"You ever hear of werewolves, Ramirez?"
He snorted. "Is that a joke?"
She didn’t smile.
Ramirez’s face fell. "Wait. You’re serious?"
Evelyn set down her coffee, rolling up her sleeve. The bandages on her arm were fresh, but the marks underneath weren’t normal.
Ramirez’s jaw tightened. "Damn, Cross…"
She met his gaze. "I saw one."
Silence stretched between them. Then, Ramirez exhaled slowly. "And Voss?"
"He knows something." She leaned forward. "I think he controls them."
Ramirez ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus."
Evelyn nodded. "Yeah."
A long pause. Then Ramirez straightened. "So what’s the plan?"
Evelyn stared at her files, at the names of the missing officers.
"We end this," she said.
"Before they end us."
Somewhere deep in the city, hidden beneath layers of wealth and power, Damian Voss sat in the dim glow of his private chamber. The walls were lined with ancient books, relics of a past few understood. Shadows flickered against the polished mahogany desk where he rested his hands.
Across from him, three figures stood, their faces unreadable, their postures rigid. The air was thick with unspoken tension.
Voss exhaled, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip. His sharp gaze flickered toward them.
"Evelyn Cross is moving too fast." His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it—a quiet, dangerous finality. "She knows too much already. The only thing stopping her is evidence."
One of the men shifted slightly. "She doesn’t have proof yet."
"She will," Voss said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "And when she does, it’s over."
A long silence followed. Then Voss leaned forward, his silver eyes gleaming in the low light.
"We have to take care of her. Fast."
The figures nodded.
The hunt had begun.
Evelyn sat in her office, her injured wrist wrapped tightly in fresh bandages. The pain was a dull throb, a constant reminder that everything she thought she knew about the world had just shattered. Werewolves were real.
And so was the danger she was in.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the case files spread across her desk. None of it mattered now. The murders, the cover-ups, the missing pieces—they were all tied to something far bigger than she had ever imagined.
A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.
Before she could answer, Ramirez pushed his way in, his face tight with urgency. In his hands was a thick manila envelope.
“You’re going to want to see this,” he said, dropping it onto her desk.
Evelyn sat up. “What is it?”
Ramirez hesitated. “Anonymous drop-off. No fingerprints. No cameras caught who left it. But, Cross… if this is real, Voss is screwed.”
Her pulse quickened as she ripped the envelope open, spilling its contents onto the desk.
Photos. Documents. Records that shouldn’t exist.
The first picture made her stomach twist—a crime scene photo from thirty years ago. A body ripped apart under the light of a full moon. The name on the report made her breath hitch.
Detective Samuel Cross. Her father.
Her hands trembled as she flipped through the papers. There were reports of similar attacks, all marked as “unsolved” or “wild animal incidents.” But the truth was right in front of her.
These weren’t animal attacks.
They were werewolf attacks.
And then she saw it—a grainy surveillance still, taken from inside Voss Enterprises. The image was old, but the man in the frame was unmistakable.
Damian Voss.
Standing over her father’s dead body.
Evelyn’s blood turned ice-cold.
“Holy s**t,” Ramirez muttered, staring at the photo. “He was there.”
Evelyn’s fingers clenched the paper, her jaw tightening. “He didn’t just know my father. He killed him.”
Her mind raced. This was the missing piece. The thing that tied everything together.
This was proof.
But who sent it? And why now?
As if reading her mind, Ramirez frowned. “Who else knows you’re this close?”
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “Not enough people.” She grabbed her gun and her badge. “But I’m about to change that.”
She had spent her whole life searching for the truth.
Now, she had it.
And she was going to bring Damian Voss down.
- Writer
