Chapter 9 : Crimson Howl
308 Words
(The Blood Moon's climax – where human and wolf laws collide)
The forest held its breath.
Clara tasted copper. Liam's hand—no, claws now—twitched against her throat as the rogue pack circled. Their alpha's human grin stretched too wide, canines glinting like bone needles.
"Sweet," he crooned, licking blood off his knuckles. "The little doe thinks she speaks our tongue."
Liam's growl vibrated through Clara's spine. She kept her grip on his wrist, feeling the pulse beneath his fur—too fast, too hot. *Like a furnace burning through its last coal.*
Then the screaming started.
Not from the woods. From town. Distant but piercing. Children's voices.
The rogue alpha smirked. "Whoops. Forgot the second hunting party."
Liam's body wrenched. Clara saw the exact moment his ribs snapped outward—
No.
She jammed the iron candlestick into his palm. "Focus!" The sizzle of burning flesh choked the air. His pained roar shook pine needles from the trees.
But his eyes cleared. Human.
The rogues froze.
"Impossible," their alpha hissed.
Clara bared her teeth. "You wanted his beast?" She pressed her forehead to Liam's heaving shoulder. "I'll show you what *mine* looks like."
**Three things happened at once:**
1. The clinic's emergency flares exploded in the distance—her doing, yesterday's precaution now painting the sky sulfur-yellow.
2. Every dog in Silver Hollow howled. Not in fear. In answer.
3. Liam's howl joined them, but the notes were wrong. Deliberate. A hunting call Clara had taught him last autumn.
The rogues' ears flattened.
Because the shadows moving between the trees weren't wolves.
They were townsfolk. Pitchforks glinting. Shotguns loaded with rock salt. Old Nan gripping her antique silver crucifix.
And leading them—
"Doc Sullivan?" The sheriff's flashlight caught Clara's bloodstained smile.
"Took you long enough," she said, and spat a wolf's tooth onto the leaves.
- Writer
