Chapter 8: Hashtag Howl
593 Words
POV: Elara (Underground Safehouse, 3:29AM)
The titanium spork missed my eye by half an inch and embedded itself into the wall with a ping. Its wielder—a college kid in a "Team Jacob 4Eva" hoodie—screamed, "THIS IS FOR MY DOG, MR. FLUFFLES!"
Lira shot him with the Keurig.
The "Lycanthrope-Killer Espresso" pod exploded against his chest, spraying scalding coffee and actual silver shavings. He howled and collapsed, twitching.
Heather kicked the door shut behind her, her silver-glowing fingers still gripping her phone. The screen showed a Venmo notification: +$500,000 from Marcus.
"Before you freak out," she said, tossing the phone onto the table, "I didn't take the money. But 12,000 other people did."
The screen lit up with a live map of the city. Red dots swarmed like fire ants—each representing a human armed with silver-tipped weapons, courtesy of Marcus’s SilverSwap app.
POV: Marcus (Bloodsinger HQ, 3:33AM)
The numbers were beautiful.
#SilverShotChallenge Participants: 14,202
Total Revenue (USD): $6.1M
BTC Transactions: 3,892
Marcus leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of blood-red wine. His tech team had outdone themselves—the app even included a leaderboard. Top hunter this hour: @WolfHunter69, who’d just bagged a Lycan courier with a silver-coated fidget spinner.
His phone buzzed.
Mother Lycan: This has gone too far.
Marcus smirked and typed back: "You wanted the hybrid dead. Now the whole world’s hunting her. You’re welcome."
He flicked to Heather’s live-stream replay. The girl had spine, he’d give her that. Refusing half a million dollars to side with the monsters?
Pathetic.
POV: Caden (Fever Dream, 3:37AM)
The memories came in shattered pieces, each more damning than the last.
—His mother standing over Jax’s crib, a syringe of black fluid in hand. "It’s for the good of the bloodline."
—Marcus, barely sixteen, smirking as he pressed a bloodied knife into Caden’s palm. "You’ll thank me later, cousin."
—The first hybrid’s screams as they welded her coffin shut. "You’ll beg for my help when the Bloodsingers turn on you!"
Caden’s eyes snapped open.
"Marcus is her son."
POV: Elara
Lira was elbow-deep in the college kid’s hoodie, fishing out his wallet. "Dude’s name is Ethan. He’s pre-med. And—" She held up a crumpled receipt. "He paid for that spork. $49.99 at SilverHunters dot com."
Heather groaned. "They’re selling weapons now?"
"Worse." Lira pulled up the website. "It’s a subscription service. Monthly silver bullet deliveries, exclusive t****k filters, and—oh hell—a werewolf tracking app."
The screen flashed: "YOUR FIRST 10 SILVER ROUNDS ARE FREE!"
Caden staggered to his feet, his silver veins pulsing under his skin. "We need to get to the church. Now."
I grabbed his arm. "Why? What’s there?"
"The real contract." His golden eyes burned with fever. "The one that started all of this."
POV: Heather (Live-Streaming, 3:45AM)
Heather’s phone was still rolling.
She hadn’t meant to keep broadcasting, but the views were exploding. 1.2M live watchers. Comments scrolled too fast to read:
"IS THIS REAL?"
"FAKE NEWS"
"I JUST BOUGHT A SILVER SPORK LMAO"
Then, a superchat popped up:
@BloodBae420: $10,000 if you show the hybrid’s eyes.
Heather hesitated.
@BloodBae420: $20,000.
She turned the camera toward Elara.
POV: Elara
The second the lens hit me, my vision shifted.
Colors bled into monochrome. Heartbeats thundered like war drums. And Heather’s phone screen—I could see the code behind it.
A single line flashed in the livestream’s metadata:
#SILVER_TONGUE_PROTOCOL: ACTIVATED
Then the window shattered.
- Writer
