The bunker was quiet for the first time in hours. The excitement had finally faded into the low, heavy breathing of sleeping men.
I looked down at the workbench. Two of the three canisters were empty. The one left was the booster, which we would keep as a safeguard for when we need it. I picked up one of the empty bottles. It was nearly drained, with only a small portion of glowing liquid left. I felt a strange pull toward it. Without a word to the others, I slid the canister into my jacket pocket. A secret insurance policy.
As the first light of dawn began to bleed through the cracks in the doors, the fur began to recede. One by one, the Blood-Hounds shifted back. It wasn't the violent agony of the first time; it was a slow, exhausted withdrawal. They woke up on the concrete floor as hu
