Chapter Six
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 so should you.”
She shook her head, biting back the words rising to her lips. Ramirez wasn’t a coward. He was scared, and for good reason. But fear wasn’t an option for her.
Before she could say anything else, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
She hesitated, then answered.
A distorted voice came through the speaker. “Detective Cross.”
She stiffened. “Who is this?”
A pause. Then—
“I have information on Voss.”
Evelyn’s grip on the phone tightened. “What kind of information?”
Another pause. “Meet me at Pier 17. Midnight.”
The line went dead.
She lowered the phone, pulse hammering.
Ramirez frowned. “Who was that?”
Evelyn slipped her gun from its holster, checking the clip before sliding it back in place. “Someone who knows more than we do.”
He stared at her. “You’re going?”
She met his gaze. “You said it yourself. We’re in too deep. Might as well drown.”
Pier 17
The docks were quiet, save for the occasional creak of boats shifting in the water. Evelyn stepped carefully, her hand near her gun. A thick fog curled over the ground, swallowing the edges of the pier.
A figure stood at the end, half-hidden in the mist.
Evelyn approached every nerve on high alert.
“You’re late,” the figure muttered.
She recognized the voice instantly. “Mason Quinn?”
The former investigative journalist turned conspiracy theorist. He had disappeared years ago, after claiming he had proof of something monstrous lurking in the city’s underbelly.
Mason exhaled a bitter laugh. “Still digging into things that’ll get you killed, huh?”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “What do you know about Voss?”
Mason reached into his coat, pulling out a small leather-bound notebook. “More than you want to.”
She took it, flipping through the pages. Dates, locations, names—all tied to Voss. Some were recent. Others were decades old.
“You found something,” she murmured.
Mason’s jaw tightened. “I found everything.”
Before he could say more, a low growl rumbled from the shadows.
Evelyn spun, gun drawn.
A dark shape lunged from the fog—fast, too fast.
She barely managed to fire a shot before something slammed into her, sending her crashing against a stack of crates.
Mason shouted, but the sound was cut short by a sickening crunch.
Evelyn blinked through the haze of pain, struggling to focus. The creature crouched over Mason’s crumpled form—tall, gaunt, with silver eyes that gleamed unnaturally in the dark.
It turned toward her.
Not a man. Not an animal.
Something in between.
Voss’s voice drifted through her mind.
“Proof means nothing if she’s not alive to use it.”
Her breath hitched.
They hadn’t sent men after her.
They’d sent monsters.
Evelyn fired again. The creature snarled as the bullet tore through its shoulder—but it didn’t go down.
It lunged.
She barely rolled out of the way as claws scraped against the concrete where she had been seconds before. Scrambling to her feet, she bolted, her mind racing.
The evidence—Mason’s notebook—was still in her grip.
If she made it out alive, she had proof.
If she didn’t, Voss had already won.
She pushed harder, sprinting toward her car as the beast’s snarls echoed behind her.
She reached the door, yanking it open, throwing herself inside—
The glass shattered as claws raked through the window.
Evelyn screamed, slamming the car into reverse, tires screeching as she peeled away from the dock.
Her heart pounded as she checked the rearview mirror.
The creature stood motionless in the fog, watching her go.
Like it was letting her escape.
Like it knew she was already trapped.
---
The Next Morning
Evelyn sat in her apartment, the notebook open in front of her. Ramirez paced nearby, shaking his head.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “Voss is not just a criminal mastermind, but some kind of… immortal?”
Evelyn exhaled. “Not just immortal. Something else.”
She turned the notebook around, tapping on a faded photograph taped to the page.
A black-and-white image of Damian Voss.
From 1892.
Ramirez paled. “Jesus Christ.”
Evelyn leaned back, her fingers tightening into fists.
“We can’t beat him with the law,” she said. “We need something stronger.”
Ramirez frowned. “Like what?”
Evelyn looked down at the notebook again.
The last entry was circled in red.
"The only way to stop him… is to find the first."
Her pulse pounded.
The first what?
Or the first who?
She had no idea.Evelyn stared at the blood-stained notebook in her hands, Mason Quinn’s final words burning into her mind.
“The only way to stop him… is to find the first.”
Ramirez shifted beside her, breathing heavily. "What the hell does that mean? First what?"
She flipped through the torn pages, searching for something—anything—that could explain Mason’s message. Then, her fingers stilled.
At the bottom of the last page, written in rushed, uneven handwriting, was a name.
Silas Graves.
Evelyn's pulse pounded. "I know this name."
Ramirez frowned. "Should I?"
She swallowed hard. "He was a detective. Retired before we joined the force. He worked homicide back in the ’80s."
Ramirez gave her a skeptical look. "And how does that help us now?"
Evelyn exhaled sharply. "Because he’s supposed to be dead."
Silence hung between them.
Ramirez rubbed the back of his neck. "You think Mason was telling us this guy is still alive?"
Evelyn didn’t answer immediately. Something about the name felt familiar, like she’d seen it before. Then it hit her.
Her father’s old case files.
She turned toward Ramirez, her mind racing. "We need to get to my place. Now."
"Why?"
"Because if Mason was right… and if Silas Graves is still out there… he might be the only one who knows what Voss really is."
Ramirez didn’t argue. He just pulled out his keys. "Then let’s move before someone else finds him first."
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
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 bodie
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
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
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
Chapter SixThe 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.
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
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 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
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
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 bodie