Game Of Fangs

The Raid

Seth and Ruth DeLuca crouched low behind a stack of shipping containers.

The scent of saltwater and metal filled the air, mixing with the subtle musk of their preternatural senses. The Hudson docks stretched before them, dimly lit by flickering street lamps. Somewhere in the distance, the low rumble of a boat engine sounded.

"Remember," Ruth whispered, her eyes locked on the shadows beyond. "Father said no bloodshed. We get the shipment, we get out. Quiet and clean."

Seth shifted beside her, his jaw tight. The moonlight glinted off his knife. “Yeah, well... quiet doesn’t always get the job done.” His voice was cold, hinting at the recklessness that pulsed just beneath the surface.

His fingers twitched on the hilt of his blade, anticipation humming through his body.

“Don’t mess this up,” Ruth warned, already sensing the storm brewing within her brother. Seth thrived in chaos. He wasn’t just ruthless—he was unpredictable. And tonight, she feared that was about to get them into trouble.

Movement in the distance caught Ruth’s attention. The Werewolves had arrived. Hulking figures clad in dark jackets moved in the shadows, unloading crates from a van.

The shipment was drugs, high-end weapons, some new supernatural contraband. Whatever it was, it was valuable enough to risk a turf war over.

Ruth pressed closer to the wall of the container, her voice barely above a whisper. “Wait for my signal.”

But Seth wasn’t listening.

His body tensed like a coiled spring, and before Ruth could stop him, he was already moving.

He shot forward with inhuman speed, his blade flashing under the moonlight. He was upon the nearest Werewolf in a heartbeat, slashing across its chest before the beast even had time to react.

The Werewolf let out a snarl of pain and fury, stumbling back as blood poured from the wound.

“Damn it, Seth!” Ruth hissed, but it was too late.

The rest of the Werewolves caught the scent of blood and immediately shifted into their monstrous forms, eyes glowing with rage. What was supposed to be a clean, silent raid had just become a bloodbath.

Gunfire exploded into the night. The Werewolves retaliated, some pulling out weapons while others lunged forward, their claws gleaming in the dim light.

Seth met them head-on, reveling in the chaos he’d unleashed. He dodged a swipe from one Werewolf’s claws and delivered a quick strike to its throat, sending it crashing to the ground.

Ruth had no choice but to join the fray, pulling out her own weapons as she fired into the advancing wolves. One of them lunged for her, and she rolled to the side just in time, jamming a silver blade into its chest. The creature howled in agony before collapsing at her feet.

“This wasn’t the plan!” Ruth shouted over the noise, ducking behind a crate as another round of gunfire rang out. “We were supposed to keep it quiet!”

Seth’s laughter echoed across the dock as he fought his way through another Werewolf. “Plans change, sister! Try to keep up!”

But before Ruth could argue further, the sound of sirens cut through the chaos.

“Police!” one of the Werewolves snarled. “It’s a setup!”

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment. Ruth’s stomach dropped as flashing red and blue lights appeared at the edge of the docks. The situation had just gone from bad to worse. They had been compromised.

“Fall back!” Ruth shouted to Seth, her heart pounding. “We need to get out of here, now!”

But Seth was too deep in the fight to care. A Werewolf lunged at him, and he spun around, sinking his blade into the creature’s side with a savage grin. The docks were now a warzone—blood splattered across the ground, the scent of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Then, out of the shadows, more figures appeared—this time, it wasn’t just the police.

A squad of heavily armed officers burst onto the scene, led by a striking woman with a steely gaze. Her blond hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and she moved with lethal precision, directing her team with sharp hand signals.

Ruth’s eyes widened as she recognized her—Sarah Bennett, the detective who had been dogging their family’s business for months.

Sarah’s squad moved like a well-oiled machine, taking down the remaining Werewolves with a mix of tranquilizer darts and silver bullets. Ruth ducked behind a container, desperately trying to avoid detection. This was not part of the plan.

“Seth!” Ruth hissed, catching sight of her brother as he finished off the last Werewolf with a brutal strike. “We have to go! The cops are swarming the place!”

But Seth wasn’t listening—again. His eyes had locked onto Sarah, and Ruth could see the glint of interest in them. He liked a challenge, and Sarah was nothing if not that.

Just as Seth prepared to make his move, Ruth grabbed his arm, yanking him back toward the shadows. “Now is not the time!” she growled. “We need to get out of here before we’re both arrested or worse.”

Reluctantly, Seth followed her into the dark alleyways behind the docks, his eyes flicking back to where Sarah was standing. She was scanning the area, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

“Next time,” Seth muttered, a dark smile playing on his lips. “She won’t be so lucky.”

They slipped into the shadows, vanishing just as Sarah’s gaze swept over their former position.

But as Ruth led them deeper into the maze of streets, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, her heart still racing from the raid.

Her father’s name "Vincent DeLuca" flashed on the screen.

She answered quickly, her voice hushed. “Father, we—"

“Ruth,” her father’s voice was rough, filled with a pain she had never heard before. “Your mother... she’s been murdered.”

The words hit her like a freight train. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to spin.

“What?” she whispered, her mind struggling to process the information.

Seth, noticing her sudden change in demeanor, stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, his earlier bravado fading as concern crept into his voice.

Ruth shook her head, her grip tightening around the phone. “Father said... Mother’s dead. She was murdered.”

Seth’s face hardened, his hands curling into fists. “Who did it?”

“I don’t know,” Ruth said, her voice trembling. “Father doesn’t have any answers. He just—he wants us to come home.”

The raid, the Werewolves, the chaos they had just escaped—it all seemed distant now, overshadowed by the shocking news that awaited them back home.

Seth’s expression darkened as he began moving again, faster this time. “Let’s go. Whoever did this... they’ll pay.”