Howl in the Dark

Chapter Two: The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Celeste didn’t wake up for three hours.

I knew because I sat next to her the entire time, watching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. She didn’t stir. Didn’t twitch. Just lay there, pale and still, like the weight of the world had finally crushed her into unconsciousness.

The only sign she was alive was the soft flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.

I should’ve taken her in.

I should’ve cuffed her, called it in, done something other than drag a blood-soaked stranger back to my apartment. But something about her—the way she had looked at me in that alley, the fear in her voice when she whispered He’s coming—had flipped a switch in my brain.

I wanted answers.

And I knew damn well I wouldn’t get them if I let anyone else get to her first.

I reached for another cigarette, rolling it between my fingers before tossing it onto the table next to the others. I didn’t smoke. I just had bad habits.

A gust of wind rattled the blinds. The city outside never slept, but up here, in my cramped excuse for an apartment, the silence felt unnatural. Like the whole damn world was holding its breath.

Then, without warning—

Celeste gasped.

Her body jerked, her fingers fisting the blanket like she was drowning in something only she could see. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling too fast, too sharp.

“Easy.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You’re okay.”

She wasn’t. Neither of us were.

Her silver eyes darted around the room, unfocused at first. Then, they locked onto me.

A shiver crawled down my spine.

I’d seen a lot of things in my time—murders, bodies torn apart by things that shouldn’t exist, shadows that stretched where no light should bend. But her eyes? They weren’t natural.

Not just the color. Not just the way they caught the dim light and turned it into something other.

It was the depth. The weight behind them.

Like she was seeing something I couldn’t.

Her breathing slowed, but her hands still shook. She pulled the blanket closer around herself, fingers tightening in the fabric as she scanned the room—small, bare walls, peeling wallpaper, one couch that had seen better days, and the window with blinds half-broken.

Then, her fingers twitched.

And I saw it.

The faintest hint of claws curling at her fingertips before retracting just as fast.

Not human.

I should’ve reached for my gun. Should’ve backed away, put some damn distance between us. But I didn’t.

I leaned in instead.

“What are you?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

So I moved. Slowly. Crossing the room, closing the space between us until I was sitting on the edge of the cot. Close enough to see the way she flinched at the movement.

Not from fear.

From expectation.

Someone had hit her before. Hurt her. Badly.

I didn’t touch her, but the fact that she thought I would told me everything I needed to know.

“Celeste.” I said her name like it was a puzzle piece I was trying to fit into place. “What the hell happened in that alley?”

She licked her lips. Hesitated.

And then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it—

“They found me.”

A chill crept down my spine.

I didn’t ask who. Not yet. Because I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

Instead, I kept my voice steady. “How long have you been running?”

Celeste inhaled sharply, eyes flicking toward the window like she expected someone to come crashing through it at any second. “Too long.”

That wasn’t an answer.

I tried again. “Who’s after you?”

She shook her head, shoulders curling inward. “They’ll kill me.”

My jaw tightened.

Then, before I could think better of it, I grabbed her wrist.

Bad move.

The second my fingers touched her skin, something slammed through me. A jolt of heat and ice and something else—something electric, like a live wire had just been pressed against my spine.

Celeste gasped, her body locking up.

And then, right before my eyes—

Her claws slid out again.

This time, they didn’t disappear.

Neither did I.

I didn’t move. Didn’t let go.

I just held her gaze, ignoring the sharp, black-tipped claws that could’ve torn through my throat in a second.

“Try again,” I said. “Who’s after you?”

Tears welled in her silver eyes. And this time, when she spoke, I heard something new in her voice.

Not just fear.

Resignation.

Like she knew there was no running anymore.

Like she’d already lost.

She exhaled a single word.

A name.

“Elias.”

My stomach dropped.

The air in the room turned to lead.

Elias.

I knew that name.

Everyone in this city knew that name.

Because Elias wasn’t just anyone.

He was the most feared man in the underground. A name that didn’t get whispered in bars unless you had a death wish. The kind of man who made even the worst criminals sleep with one eye open.

And if he was looking for her…

Then I’d just put myself in the crosshairs of something I wasn’t ready for.

Something that, if I was smart, I’d walk away from right now.

Celeste watched me, waiting for a reaction.

Fear. Anger. Disgust. Anything.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, ran a hand down my face, and muttered,

“Shit.”

She flinched at the word.

Not because of me.

Because she already knew what came next.

The sound of an engine rumbled outside.

A black SUV, idling on the curb.

And just like that, I realized something too late.

They already found us.