CHAPTER TWO
735 Words
CHAPTER 2: HUNTED
(Selene’s POV)
I had faced down creatures that would haunt most people’s nightmares—vampires with centuries of blood on their hands, rogue werewolves who had lost themselves to the beast, and sorcerers who whispered death in forgotten tongues.
But nothing unsettled me like the man standing in front of me now.
Damian Blackwood.
The werewolf who had once held my heart in his hands. The man who vanished without a trace five years ago, leaving behind nothing but a ghost of what we could have been.
And now he was cursed.
I forced my emotions down, locking them away in the same place I kept my nightmares. Whatever was happening to him, I didn’t have time to process it. Devereaux was still out there. And that meant I had a job to do.
I stepped back, my arms crossing. "We need a plan."
Damian gave me a wry look. "You don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet."
"I don’t need to. Devereaux is my target. That hasn’t changed."
His jaw tensed. "Selene—"
I cut him off. "Look, I don’t care what you think you’re protecting me from. You’re not doing this alone. And if Devereaux wants to come after you, then he’s going to have to go through me first."
Something flickered in his golden eyes, something I couldn’t name. But before he could respond, a loud boom shattered the silence.
The warehouse doors exploded inward, and I barely had time to react before the shadows came alive.
Vampires.
Half a dozen of them. Pale skin, glowing red eyes, fangs bared. Devereaux’s enforcers.
I cursed under my breath. "You led them right to us."
Damian’s body tensed, his fingers curling into fists. "Not on purpose."
The vampires moved fast—too fast.
I spun, drawing my twin daggers in a heartbeat, the silver glinting under the dim light. The first vampire lunged, claws swiping toward my throat. I ducked, twisting around and slicing my blade across his chest. He shrieked, staggering back as dark blood spilled onto the floor.
Damian was already shifting.
I heard the sickening crack of bones, the deep growl that rumbled from his chest as his body morphed into something more beast than man. His claws slashed through flesh, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness.
The vampires swarmed.
I moved with lethal precision, each strike measured, each kill clean. One vampire got too close, and I drove my dagger straight into his heart. His body convulsed before collapsing into dust.
But there were too many.
One of them grabbed me from behind, yanking me back against his cold body. I struggled, but his grip was like iron.
"You should have stayed dead, Blackwood," the vampire sneered at Damian.
Damian’s growl deepened, his form still shifting, stretching. The curse was taking hold.
His body was changing, but not into a wolf. Something darker.
The vampire holding me faltered, his grip loosening just enough for me to break free. I didn’t hesitate—I slammed my dagger under his chin, straight into his skull. He collapsed without a sound.
When I turned, Damian was standing over the last remaining vampire.
Only… it wasn’t Damian anymore.
His body was twisted, his muscles unnaturally tense, his eyes glowing with something wrong. Dark veins pulsed beneath his skin, spreading up his arms like vines of poison. His claws were longer, his fangs sharper.
The vampire on the floor was trying to crawl away, but Damian grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
The vampire screamed.
I moved before I could think.
"Damian," I snapped. "That’s enough."
He didn’t hear me.
The curse had him now.
I did the only thing I could.
I stepped forward, placed a hand against his chest, and whispered, "Come back to me."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then his eyes flickered—just for a second.
The monster wavered.
And in that moment of hesitation, the last vampire used his final breath to spit out one final warning.
"You’re already too late. He’s coming for you both."
Then his body went still, his head lolling to the side. Dead.
Damian dropped him.
I exhaled, forcing my pulse to slow. Damian’s body was still trembling, but he was regaining control. His claws retracted. His breathing steadied.
But we both knew the truth.
The curse was winning.
And Devereaux was coming.
- Writer
