The city never truly slept, but on full moon nights, it felt different—like something old and wild moved underneath, a dark presence hiding nearby. Detective Evelyn Cross had learned to trust her instincts, and right now, they were screaming at her, a loud mix of warning bells rang in her mind.
She stood outside the police station, drinking a cup of coffee that had long been cold, the bitter taste a reminder of the urgency that gnawed at her insides. The streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows on the pavement, as if the very ground was alive with secrets. Inside, the station was a lot of activity—phones ringing, officers moving back and forth, the air thick with tension—but none of it reached her. Not after what her boss had just told her.
Another body. Another night. Another brutal crime scene.
The killer struck only on full moons, leaving behind the victims so deformed that even the most seasoned officers had to turn away, their faces pale and drawn. Five bodies in six months, all torn apart like they had been mauled by a wild animal. No fingerprints. No murder weapon. No witnesses.
And now, the case was hers.
Evelyn exhaled sharply, steeling herself before walking back inside. The precinct smelled of stale coffee and sweat, the air thick with frustration and fear. She could feel it in her bones—the weight of the city’s dread pressing down on her.
"Detective Cross!"
The voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. She turned to see Captain Harris standing by his office, his grizzled face set in a grim expression that sent a chill down her spine. He gestured for her to come in, and she obeyed, closing the door behind her with a sense of foreboding.
"Sir?" she asked her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Harris sighed, he rubbed the sides of his head, trying to ease his stress. "The mayor is breathing down my neck. The press is calling this a serial killer, the public is terrified, and we still have nothing." He leaned back, his gaze piercing. "I need results, Cross. You’ve got a sharp mind. Figure this out before another body drops."
Evelyn nodded, determination hardening her resolve. "I won’t let this one slip, sir."
"You’d better not," Harris muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "Because the last time someone took this case, they ended up dead."
She stiffened, her heart racing. "What?"
Harris slid a file across the desk, the sound sharp and final. "Open it."
Evelyn hesitated, a sense of dread pooling in her stomach. She flipped the folder open, her breath catching in her throat. The crime scene photos were old and yellowed with age, but the wounds on the victims were identical to the ones in her case—gaping, jagged lacerations that spoke of unspeakable violence.
She scanned the report, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Lead investigator: Detective Michael Cross.
Her father.
The world tilted on its axis. "My dad worked this case?"
Harris nodded, his expression grave. "Thirty years ago. Same pattern, same full moons, same damn claw marks. He never solved it. And then, one night… he vanished."
Evelyn’s grip tightened on the file, her knuckles white. She barely remembered the details of her father’s disappearance. She had been just a child when he never came home. The official report said he was killed in the line of duty. But now? Now she wasn’t so sure.
"Do you think these cases are connected?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harris met her gaze, his eyes dark with unspoken fears. "I don’t believe in coincidences."
Neither did she.
An hour later, Evelyn stood at the newest crime scene; the alley was a scary and shocking sight. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and damp concrete, a sickening reminder of the violence that had unfolded here. The yellow crime scene tape flapped in the breeze, a warning that felt all too fragile as she stepped past the forensics team.
"Cross," her partner, Detective Cole Ramirez, called out, crouching near the body. "You’re gonna want to see this."
Evelyn moved closer, her stomach churning as she looked at the victim. The man's chest was torn open, deep gashes running from his ribs down to his stomach, the flesh shredded as if by a beast. Blood soaked the pavement, pooling beneath him like a dark, ominous omen.
But it wasn’t just the violence of the crime that unsettled her. It was the precision.
"This wasn’t done with a knife," Evelyn muttered, her voice thick with disbelief.
Ramirez nodded grimly, his brow furrowed. "Looks like an animal attack. But we're in the middle of the city, and no one saw anything."
Evelyn frowned, her instincts flaring. "Check the cameras?"
"Already did. Nothing. It’s like whatever did this just… disappeared."
A cold shiver ran down her spine, a primal fear that whispered of something lurking just beyond the edges of her understanding.
"Who is he?" she asked, forcing herself to focus.
"Daniel Greaves," Ramirez said, his voice low. "Investment banker. No criminal record. Just a regular guy in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Evelyn studied the body, then glanced at the walls of the alley. Deep claw marks gouged into the brick as if something had climbed or leaped away, leaving behind a trail of terror.
She didn’t like this.
Something wasn’t adding up. They left the crime scene
Back at her apartment, Evelyn poured herself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass like the chaos in her mind. She spread out every file she had—her father’s old case, the current victims, the same patterns, the same full moons.
And one name that kept surfacing in her research.
Voss Enterprises.
A powerful corporation that had been around for decades, owned by a man whose influence stretched across the city—Damian Voss.
His name was never directly linked to the murders. But victims worked for his businesses. Some had been seen at his exclusive clubs. And her father… he had been investigating something about Voss before he vanished.
Her hands tightened around the case files, the paper crumpling beneath her grip.
Was Damian Voss a suspect? Or was he something worse?
Evelyn leaned back in her chair, rubbing her head, the weight of the evidence pressing down on her. It wasn’t enough to make an arrest, but it all pointed in one direction—Damian Voss.
Billionaire. Businessman. Untouchable.
And somehow, connected to these murders.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise—something shifting outside her window.
Evelyn tensed, reaching for her gun. She lived on the fourth floor. No one should be out there.
Slowly, she moved toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. The city lights cast long shadows across her apartment, but she saw nothing outside. No movement. No sign of anyone watching.
And yet, the uneasy feeling in her gut didn’t fade.
Her phone buzzed the screen, lighting up with a blocked number.
She hesitated, then answered, her voice steady. "Detective Cross."
Silence.
Then, a low, controlled voice spoke, each word dripping with menace.
"You’re looking in the wrong places."
Evelyn’s grip on the phone tightened, her pulse racing. "Who is this?"
"A word of advice—walk away while you still can."
Her jaw clenched, anger flaring. "Or what?"
A pause, heavy and suffocating. Then the voice dropped lower, a whisper that sent chills racing down her spine.
"Or you’ll end up like your father."
A chill ran through her, icy fingers wrapping around her heart.
The call disconnected, leaving her standing in the suffocating silence, the dead air ringing in her ears.
Her father had vanished without a trace. Nobody. No leads. Just a cold case buried under years of unanswered questions.
And now, someone wanted to make sure she didn’t find out the truth.
Evelyn exhaled, forcing herself to stay calm. They wanted her to back off. Which meant she was getting close.
She wasn’t walking away.
If Damian Voss held the answers, she would get them. One way or another.
And this time, she wouldn’t end up like her father.
This time, she was ready.
Evelyn barely had time to react.Evelyn couldn’t stay in her apartment. Not after the call. Not after the warning. The moment she stepped into the parking lot outside her apartment, a hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her backward. Instinct kicked in. She drove her elbow into the attacker’s ribs and twisted free, stumbling onto the pavement.A figure in black lunged at her. No hesitation. She fired.The gunshot echoed through the night, but the bullet never landed. The figure moved impossibly fast, sidestepping at the last second. A gloved fist smashed into her wrist, knocking the gun from her grip.Pain exploded through her arm, but she didn’t stop. She pivoted, slamming a knee into the attacker’s stomach. They grunted but didn’t fall.Whoever they were, they were strong. Too strong.Evelyn reached for her backup knife, but before she could draw it, the figure grabbed her by the collar and hurled her backward. She hit the ground hard, air rushing from her lungs.The attacker step
Evelyn barely drive back to the station. Her hands gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Damian Voss knew something—something about her father. He wanted her to know it, wanted to dangle the truth just out of reach.Her mind replayed his words, over and over."Do you know what his last words were?"That smug smile. That mocking tone.Voss was taunting her.But he had made a mistake.She wasn’t walking away.She parked outside the station, heart hammering. The confrontation at Voss Enterprises had left her rattled, but she still had unfinished business. Detective Decker. The cop selling them out.The moment she walked into the station, the noise felt different—forced, unnatural. Officers typed on their computers, chatted in groups, but there was an undercurrent of tension, a shift in the air.They knew.Evelyn’s gaze locked onto Decker, standing near the vending machine, sipping coffee like nothing was wrong.But he was wrong.She strode toward him, her presence like
Pain throbbed in Evelyn’s arm, a relentless reminder of the impossible truth. The nurse’s words echoed in her mind."They are, Detective. And if you don’t start believing that, you’re already dead."She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t seeing things. The blood seeping through the hospital bandages proved that. The creature in the Red Hollow Club was real—impossibly fast, impossibly strong. A werewolf.And Damian Voss knew about it.The sterile hospital room felt suffocating. The fluorescent lights buzzed, and the scent of antiseptic burned her nose. She needed answers. She needed to move.Ignoring the nurse’s protests, Evelyn ripped off her IV and stumbled toward the exit. Her head swam, but she pushed through it. She couldn’t afford to rest.The moment she stepped outside, the night felt different—thick with something unseen, something watching.A shiver ran down her spine.She wasn’t alone.Her fingers hovered over her holster as she scanned the parking lot. Empty. Quiet. Too quiet.Then—mo
Evelyn’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as she clutched the evidence in her trembling hands. The photograph of Damian Voss standing over her father’s body burned into her mind.She had spent years chasing shadows, searching for answers that never came. But now, the truth was staring back at her.Voss had killed her father.Her fingers tightened around the old crime scene photo, but something made her pause.A strange feeling crept up her spine.Her eyes flickered back to the grainy surveillance still, scanning every detail. The dim lighting, the position of her father’s lifeless body… and then—Voss.Her breath caught.She grabbed another picture from the pile—one taken recently at a corporate gala.Her stomach dropped.Damian Voss.The same sharp features. The same piercing silver eyes. The same cold expression.Not a single change.Thirty years apart, and he looks the same.Her pulse pounded as she compared the photos side by side. There were no signs of aging—no wrinkles, no gray h
The night air felt heavier than usual as Evelyn stepped out of the station. The streetlights buzzed above, casting pools of dim orange light over the wet pavement. Ramirez was waiting by her car, his face drawn tight. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low. Evelyn didn’t answer right away. Her mind was still replaying the moment Judge Carter dismissed the case, the moment her boss made it clear—Voss wasn’t just above the law. He owned it. She reached for her keys, but Ramirez caught her wrist. “Evelyn, listen to me. We’re in way too deep.” His voice was urgent now. “If they got to Carter, they can get to anyone. You know what this means, right?” “They already got to the chief,” she said bitterly, yanking her hand free. “That means we’re alone in this.” Ramirez exhaled, glancing around like he expected someone to be watching. Maybe they were. “I don’t know, Cross. Maybe it’s time to let this go.” Evelyn scoffed. “You want to walk away?” “I want to survive,” he shot back. “And
The precinct was colder than usual when Evelyn stepped inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as she walked toward her office, her boots echoing against the tiled floor. But the moment she pushed open the door, she froze.A group of detectives stood inside, their expressions unreadable.Captain Harrisp leaned against her desk, arms crossed. His eyes held something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe.“Detective Cross,” he said, his tone clipped. “Hand over everything you have on Damian Voss.”Evelyn’s fingers curled into fists. “Excuse me?”“This is an order. All files, notes—anything related to your investigation into Voss. Effective immediately, you are being reassigned.”A cold weight settled in her stomach. “Reassigned?”Captain Harris didn’t flinch. He reached into his coat and pulled out a document, setting it on the desk.“Harper Town,” he said. “You leave tonight.”Evelyn barely heard the words. Her vision blurred as she read the transfer notice. Harper Town—a quiet c
Across the table, Commissioner Henry Smith, a man known for his good authority, looked like a ghost of himself. His daughter, Isabel Smith, had been taken.The ransom demand had come hours ago—one million dollars in cash, untraceable bills, and no cops—or she died.Evelyn knew better. This wasn’t about money. It never was, not with criminals, this was calculated.She asked the commissioner if he suspected anyone, but he shook his head. "No one," he replied. "My daughter has never caused trouble." Isabel had been taken from her university parking lot in broad daylight. No witnesses, no surveillance footage—too clean. The kidnappers had either planned this for months or had help from someone inside. Commissioner Henry said“Detective Cross,” Henry said. “Find her. No matter the cost.”She nodded, but there was no comfort she could offer. Not yet.Evelyn went to Isabel’s university, weaving through the bustling campus as she searched for anyone who might have answers. She questioned stu
Evelyn’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she left the interrogation room, the weight of the recorder in her pocket pressing against her like an unbearable truth. Commissioner Henry Smith had offered her power and influence—a way out of the tangled mess she found herself in. But she wasn’t that kind of cop.She stepped into the dimly lit hallway, breathing deeply to steady herself. The station felt different tonight—quieter, heavier as if the walls themselves knew what she had uncovered. She barely noticed the figure moving in the shadows until it was too late.A cold hand clamped around her wrist. Before she could react, she was yanked into a dark corridor, her back slamming against the wall. Her instinct kicked in, elbow shooting out, but the grip was unyielding.“Nathan,” she hissed, recognizing his scent before her eyes fully adjusted. It wasn’t just blood and sweat—it was something primal, something that sent a shiver down her spine.His eyes glowed in the darkness, not red with ang
They left just after dawn.Evelyn sat behind the wheel, the sky still bruised with early light, the city shrinking in her rearview. Mason rode shotgun, rifle case across his lap, and Emily was in the backseat, eyes on the road signs as they passed—silent, calculating.The file on Julian was spread open on the dash. Not much to go on. A location. A date. A single line of text:> "Subject J-009 transferred to Hollow Branch—Level Four containment. Status: dormant."Evelyn gripped the wheel tighter. “Dormant doesn’t mean dead.”“Dormant “This is it,” she said. “Hollow Branch. No one’s supposed to know this exists.”They moved on foot, rifles and sidearms ready. The path twisted through pine and stone until the ground gave way to metal—an old freight elevator, overgrown with weeds. Evelyn knelt and wiped the dust off the control panel.“Still powered,” Mason muttered. “Not abandoned.”Evelyn pressed the switch. The elevator dropped with a guttural hum, dragging them into darkness.**They
Evelyn didn’t look back as she slipped out of the precinct’s side exit. Her heart was a drumbeat in her ears, the weight of the placement protocol memo heavy in her pocket. The truth had been hidden in plain sight. Her entire life—a carefully built lie. A tool. A variable in someone else’s equation.She climbed into her car and locked the doors. Her breath fogged the windshield. For a second, she sat frozen. Then she opened her burner phone and dialed the only number that still felt real.“Anika,” she said when the line picked up. “We need to talk. Now.”Twenty minutes later, they met in the dim backroom of a closed diner—off-grid, unmonitored. Evelyn laid out the memo, the photo, the Subject E-113 file. Anika’s eyes scanned the pages with the same horror Evelyn had felt just hours earlier.“This was never about your instincts or your skills,” Anika whispered. “They built you for this.”“They wanted to see if I’d survive the shift,” Evelyn said. “Whatever that means.”Anika looked up,
Evelyn hadn’t planned on going back to her childhood house. She pulled into the driveway alone, gravel crunching under her tires. No one followed. No one knew she was there. The house had sat untouched for years, perched at the edge of a narrow road just outside the city—weathered by time and memory.The door creaked the way it always had, the sound oddly comforting. The front door opened with a familiar groan, and the scent hit her instantly—dust, wood, and something faintly sweet, like old cedar and forgotten things. Nothing had changed.She made her way through the hall, boots echoing against the floorboards, each step guided by muscle memory. Her father’s study was still at the end of the corridor, the same door she wasn’t allowed to open as a child. Now, it was unlocked.She went straight to the filing cabinet in the corner. Beneath a false bottom—exactly where he’d once shown her during a moment of rare honesty—she found the safe. Her fingers hesitated over the keypad, then ente
The car cut through the fog like a blade. Damian didn’t speak, which made Evelyn’s skin itch even more. Silence meant calculation. And Damian Voss was always calculating.“Where are we going?” she snapped, tired of the game.“To a place your mother once begged me never to show you.”That stopped her cold. “Don’t talk about her.”“I’m not the one who brought her back from the dead.”He said it so casually as if the resurrection was part of his daily errands.The car slid to a stop in front of a warehouse cloaked in shadows. Not abandoned—guarded. She saw them in the corners: men who didn’t blink didn’t breathe normally. Wolves in human skin.Damian stepped out. Evelyn followed, hand brushing her holster.Inside, the air shifted. It was colder. Older. The walls were marked with sigils she didn’t recognize, but they burned in her bones like memories she’d never made.They stopped in front of a massive iron door.“She brought you here once,” Damian said. “You just don’t remember.”“I was
Evelyn’s fingers twitched near her weapon.“Is this a joke?” she growled, stepping forward. “Because if it is, you picked the wrong day.”Damian Voss stood just inside the precinct doors, as calm as ever, his tailored coat flaring slightly with the breeze from outside. But it was the woman beside him that made Evelyn’s pulse stumble—a woman with eyes too familiar, a voice too haunting, and a face she hadn’t seen in over a decade.Her mother.Or someone wearing her mother’s face.“I should shoot you where you stand,” Evelyn said, eyes locked on Damian. “You have five seconds to start talking before I forget this is a police station.”Damian raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Now, now, detective. Is that any way to greet an old… ally?”“We were never allies.”“No,” he said coolly, “but the world has changed since Ashgrove. And you’re running out of options.”Evelyn looked past him to the woman—no older than she remembered, but pale, haunted. “You're supposed to be dead.”“I
The cold hit harder here. Not the kind that numbed you—this was the kind that cut, slid beneath the skin, and settled in the bones. Snow stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by jagged ice ridges and the skeletal remains of old research stations long abandoned to the frost.The Arctic wind howled around them as they stepped out of the hovercraft, their boots crunching onto the frozen earth. Evelyn pulled her hood tighter, eyes narrowing against the blinding white. Ahead, a dark speck loomed—a structure partially embedded into a glacier, half-buried and hidden by decades of ice.Hollowmere’s twin, or maybe its predecessor.“Is that it?” Mason asked, his voice low and tense.Anika checked the tracker. “Coordinates match. That’s where Ward went dark.”Emily didn’t speak, but she moved with purpose, her steps steady despite the terrain. Evelyn stayed close beside her, watching for any signs of tremors or discomfort. They still didn’t know the full effects of the neural impri
A faint sound echoed through the corridor—soft, rhythmic, like breathing. But it wasn’t coming from the pods.Evelyn raised a hand, signaling the others to halt. She tilted her head, listening. The sound came again, this time closer. Not quite footsteps, but not mechanical either. A whisper of something alive.Anika’s grip tightened on her blade. “We’re not alone.”“I know,” Emily whispered, her voice distant. “It’s awake.”They pressed on, past the pod room and into a wider chamber, its ceiling higher and coated with a strange black substance that shimmered in their flashlight beams. The walls were carved with more symbols, deeper this time—as if someone had scratched them in with claws. In the center stood a tall terminal, wrapped in cables that pulsed faintly with a bluish light.Emily walked straight to it.“Wait,” Mason said, stepping forward. “You sure that’s a good idea?”“She called it the Gatekeeper,” Emily replied, placing a hand gently on the terminal. “It doesn’t just stor
The road ended long before they reached it.By the time they climbed the final ridge, the landscape had shifted from forest to frozen silence. Hollowmere was nestled in a valley of snow-dusted rock and frostbitten trees, its entrance so well-hidden that, at first, it felt like they'd been chasing a ghost.Then Evelyn saw the edge of concrete—half-buried, cracked by age but unmistakably deliberate.“Found it,” she murmured.Emily moved beside her, her breath fogging the air. Her eyes locked on the structure like it was a half-remembered dream. “This is it. It’s quieter, but it’s still alive. I can feel it.”Anika crouched near the ground, brushing snow off a rusted panel embedded in the hillside. “There’s no surface access point. No doors. No gates.”“There wouldn’t be,” Mason said. “They built this one to disappear.”Evelyn pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as she stepped forward, scanning the valley’s edge. The cold here was different—metallic, biting like it carried memory in
They emerged from the forest at first light—bruised, breathless, and shaken. Ashgrove was still out there, buried beneath the earth like a sleeping beast. It hadn’t been destroyed. It hadn’t even been wounded. Just… disturbed. And now it knew who they were. Evelyn leaned against a tree, her lungs burning as she tried to calm her racing heart. Behind her, Emily sat on the cold ground, staring back toward the place they’d barely escaped. Anika crouched nearby, already scanning for threats, while Mason stood guard, his gun still gripped tight No one spoke for a moment. But the silence wasn’t comforting—it was waiting. Evelyn finally broke it. “Is everyone okay?” Anika nodded stiffly. “Physically? Sure. Mentally? Ask me tomorrow.” Mason lowered his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We need to move. If they’re tracking us, this clearing’s too exposed.” Evelyn looked at Emily, who hadn’t moved since they got out. Her gaze was distant, but not empty—focused on something none of them could se