The Hunt Begins
689 Words
The three of them didn’t waste time. Rowan led the way, cutting through the narrow backstreets of the city with practiced ease. Carson moved behind her, his hand clutching his wounded side, but his steps remained steady. Killian brought up the rear, his senses on high alert, his fingers twitching over the handle of his gun.
The silence was unnerving.
No distant sirens. No city sounds. Just the low hum of the wind weaving through empty streets. It felt unnatural.
Killian knew why.
They were being hunted.
“Where are we going?” Killian asked in a hushed tone.
Rowan didn’t look back. “Safe house. A few blocks east. If we can make it there, we’ll regroup.”
Carson scoffed. “Regroup for what? We barely made it out of that last ambush.” He winced, glancing at his bloodied shirt. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep moving like this.”
Rowan’s pace didn’t falter. “You don’t have a choice.”
Killian could feel it too. The weight of something unseen pressing against him. He glanced over his shoulder. The shadows stretched longer than they should, moving with an unnatural fluidity.
“We’re not alone,” he muttered.
As if on cue, another growl sliced through the air, this one lower, more menacing than the last. It reverberated in Killian’s bones, sending a primal shiver down his spine.
Then came the sound of claws scraping against pavement.
Rowan cursed. “Run.”
They sprinted through the darkened streets, weaving between abandoned cars and shuttered storefronts. The pounding of paws behind them was deafening now, growing closer with each passing second.
Killian risked a glance back—and regretted it instantly.
Six wolves. Bigger than any he had ever seen, their eyes burning with an unnatural glow. Their movements were eerily synchronized, their speed inhuman. These weren’t just werewolves.
They were hunters.
“Get to the alley!” Rowan shouted, shoving Carson forward. Killian followed, barely ducking in time as one of the beasts lunged at him, its jaws snapping just inches from his shoulder.
Carson stumbled, gritting his teeth against the pain, but kept moving. Rowan pulled a second blade from her belt and tossed it to Killian. He caught it without thinking.
Silver.
The wolves hesitated for only a second, their growls deepening. Then they attacked.
The first one lunged for Rowan. She met it head-on, ducking beneath its swipe and driving her blade into its gut. The wolf howled, its body convulsing as the silver burned through its flesh.
Killian barely had time to react before another wolf was on him. He slashed wildly, catching its shoulder. The beast snarled but didn’t fall. Instead, it swung at him with a massive clawed paw, sending him crashing against a dumpster.
Stars burst in his vision.
The wolf pounced, but Killian rolled at the last second, bringing his blade up just in time. It caught the beast in the chest. The creature let out a strangled snarl, its weight collapsing on top of him before it stilled.
He shoved the corpse aside, gasping for breath.
Carson wasn’t so lucky.
One of the wolves had him pinned, its fangs bared as it went for the kill. Killian didn’t think—he just moved. He grabbed Carson’s fallen gun, aimed, and fired.
The bullet—silver-tipped—struck true. The wolf yelped and fell back, its body twisting as the silver did its work. Carson groaned, blood staining his clothes, but he was still alive.
For now.
Rowan, breathing heavily, wiped her blade clean. “We need to go. That wasn’t even half of them.”
Killian helped Carson to his feet. “Where now?”
Rowan hesitated. “I know someone who can help. But it’s a risk.”
Killian met her gaze, his jaw tight. “At this point, we don’t have much of a choice.”
She nodded. “Then we move. Before more of them find us.”
As they disappeared into the night, Killian couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.
And Lucian was closing in.
- Writer
