A dark omen never fails to appear.
I could already sense Ruben's presence—the unmistakable scent of fear, thick and pungent, clinging to the air. It hadn't changed since the last time I smelled it. With deliberate steps, I moved toward the table, carefully avoiding the tangled mess of cables. When I reached it, I jerked the chair back and sent the table tipping over in one swift motion. A trembling figure emerged from beneath it. His legs were pulled up, his head pressed against his knees, hands shielding it from whatever imagined threat loomed over him.
"Ruben," I said, my voice calm but loaded with a chilling weight.
The effect was immediate. The shaking stopped for a split second, only to intensify. But then something else bled through—the raw, seething anger. He lifted his head and glared at me.
"You!" he shouted, his voice high with fury, "How dare you come here again?!"
My gaze pinned him in place, silencing him before he could unleash another torrent of curses. He still remembered our last encounter—his terror hadn't quite faded, though the memory of his brokenness seemed to have hardened into something far more volatile.
He was wearing a crumpled, faded Nightwish T-shirt and black trousers. A chain gleamed at his side, catching the dim light. His light brown hair clung to his forehead, greasy and unkempt, and his face—when his emotions got the best of him—sometimes shifted, bearing faint traces of a rodent's features. No matter how hard he tried, the stench of decay that ran through his bloodline would never fully leave him. It clung to him like a second skin, a reminder of his roots in the underworld.
"You have to help me," I said, cutting through the thick tension.
His eyes widened, only to narrow again with malice. He sprang to his feet, bristling with rage.
"Help?!" he spat. "After what you did last time?! You wanted to execute my darlings one by one!"
The memory of our last meeting still haunted him. Back then, Ruben had refused to cooperate. Information comes at a price, and when he demanded something in return, I offered him a simple deal: his life. He laughed it off, but his smile vanished when I began tearing apart his tiny informants. I let him watch as three of them were executed, one after another. His sobs echoed in my ears, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. It took him breaking down in front of me, screaming in despair, before he finally gave me the information I needed. I kept my promise and let him live.
"Yes. You will help me," I said, my voice as frigid as ever, but it barely registered in him—it only fueled his anger.
"And why the hell should I help you?!" he screamed, his voice cracking as he tried to hold onto some semblance of control.
"Because you have no choice," I answered with a hint of finality. He knew that all too well.
He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched. "What do you want?" he spat.
"Alex is missing," I said, my tone flat, though the urgency hung between us like a silent threat.
Ruben's response was a roll of his eyes, followed by a loud sigh as he slumped back in his chair. "You don't say," he muttered, a note of bitter resignation in his voice.
"Who kidnapped him, why, and what do they want from him?" I asked, my voice steady, despite the storm raging in my mind.
Ruben locked eyes with me, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, before letting out a long, resigned sigh.
"The pack he led is back in the city. They have him now," he said, his tone low. "Viktor didn't leave him alive for nothing. He was just waiting for this moon—the one that peaks at midnight tonight."
"What's so special about the moon?" I questioned. "It's so red, it looks like someone dipped it in blood. But the strangest thing is that humans can't see it."
"Of course, they can't see it," Ruben folded his arms across his chest, a look of disdain on his face. "The moon's magic can only be perceived by creatures of the night. Humans used to see it, back when they believed in vampires, werewolves, and demons. But they've tied ribbons over their own eyes. They don't see it because they don't want to. This fast-paced, tech-driven world has built a shell of perceived safety around them, and they can't see beyond it."
"But why is it red?" I pressed.
Ruben sighed deeply, and his eyes darkened, as if he were about to reveal something that even he found unsettling. "I'm guessing you've been feeling something... off? Like something's changed inside you? You can feel that this moon is different..." I nodded slowly, and he continued, "It happens every thirty years. When it does, the monsters get fiercer and stronger. There are more human deaths. And here's the most important part for you: tonight, when the moon reaches its peak, the wolves choose their companions."
"Companions?" I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to make sense of it all.
Ruben's gaze turned to me, almost pitying. "You never asked your precious wolf about himself?" He shook his head, then got back to the point. "There are factions within a pack. Some wolves bond more strongly than others, and within those bonds, there are pairs. For a wolf, a companion is different from family or love. A companion is their other half, the one they can't live without," he explained, his voice softening.
"So they love their companion, then?" I asked, trying to process it.
"It's not about love," Ruben corrected, shaking his head. "Sometimes a wolf's companion is their lover, but usually, the two roles are separate. A companion is like air to them—if they die, the wolf is usually consumed by the darkness inside. The companion is the balance, the counterweight that keeps the wolf's monster at bay."
"So, the wolves choose their companions at midnight tonight," I stated, a chill running down my spine. "So someone chose Alex?"
Ruben nodded, his face hardening. "Viktor lost his first companion seven years ago."
"But didn't you say their monster would devour them if they lost their companion?" I protested, not understanding how Viktor could survive.
Ruben's lips curled into a small, grim smile. "That's what makes Viktor dangerous. He didn't let the darkness inside him consume him. He's tougher than most. He probably had his eye on your friend all along. That's why he let him live after taking the pack from him."
"Fine," I said, frustration and confusion mixing in my voice. "But if Alex doesn't want to—he can't just force him, can he?"
The rat shook his head slowly. I was about to sigh in relief, but then his words hit me like a blow.
"Have you ever wondered how much Alex might want to return to his pack?"
It was a simple question Ruben asked. A simple question, yet it had the power to turn my world inside out.
"Wolves are social creatures," Ruben went on, his voice taking on a strange, almost sorrowful tone. "They thrive in packs. The bond between them is something we can't even comprehend. No matter how much time you spend with him, no matter how much you do, you'll never replace the connection a pack gives a wolf. If I were him, I'd go back to Viktor. Viktor's strong. He'd protect him. And Alex would be back with his family."
"Shut up," I snapped, the words barely leaving my mouth before Ruben's eyes glinted with something darkly amused.
"Have I hit a sore spot?" he asked, his voice laced with mockery. "The truth's usually painful."
"You just mind your business, rat," I hissed, a low growl in my throat. "Now, spill what you're hiding!"
Ruben's eyes flickered, his lashes fluttering slightly as if considering how much to reveal. His hesitation was almost palpable.
"I..." he began, but I cut him off.
"Don't lie, I'll find out," I said, my tone hard as steel, "and I'll kill you."
The rat swallowed nervously. He seemed to weigh his options, then finally spoke in a voice that was thin and shaky.
"Viktor needs your friend. He needs all the help he can get."
"Why?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"Because Pitou and Liou are after him. They're pissed because Viktor screwed up their plans. Those two mages are powerful—they control most of the underworld, and they're after Viktor's blood. They won't stop until they get him." Ruben paused, then added, "The allied packs are gathering in the city. That's why there are so many wolves in Pécs."
My fingers clenched into fists, the weight of the information sinking in. "Where are they hiding?"
"The Kossuth Community Centre," Ruben said, his voice almost a whisper.
I turned sharply, heading toward the door where the two boys were waiting. But just before stepping out, I stopped, glancing back at him.
"Thank you, Ruben," I said quietly, the words heavy with a mix of resentment and reluctant gratitude.
He said nothing, but I could feel his gaze on me as I left.
(...)
Alex awoke in a haze, his senses slowly returning. He inhaled deeply, savoring the faint, familiar scents, and his fingers traced the soft fabric beneath him.
"Are you finally awake?" a voice inquired, pulling his attention.
His eyes fluttered open, and as they focused, recognition dawned. "Elsie?" he whispered, the disbelief clear in his voice.
Her smile widened, lighting up her face. "Nice to see you again, Alex!"
"Where am I?" He scanned the room, noting the presence of familiar faces—members of his old pack, each offering warm smiles and a few friendly waves.
"Welcome back!" Elsie greeted, her eyes shimmering with warmth.
A whirlwind of emotions surged through Alex, his heart pounding as he bolted upright from the couch. For a fleeting moment, it seemed he might rush into the arms of his old pack, but he hesitated, his feet rooted to the spot.
"Come on, tell us what we've missed while you were away." Elsie chuckled, patting the couch beside her. She tugged him back down, her laughter infectious.
She had changed. Her once short hair now cascaded down her back, and the traces of the tomboyish girl had been replaced by a more refined presence.
"Do you remember Shay?" Alex began, a sense of ease washing over him as if he had returned from a long journey and was finally home.
"That little spitfire?" Elsie grinned, her eyes twinkling.
Alex nodded, a matching smile tugging at his lips. "We've been together ever since. We share an apartment and even attend the same high school. He's insufferable, though—won't take a single note in class, yet he's one of the top students."
Elsie giggled. "I can only imagine how tough it must be living with him."
"Yeah, he hasn't changed much. Still as sadistic as ever," Alex said, his tone light but fond.
"What about work? What are you up to these days?" she asked.
Alex sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I'm between jobs right now. Got fired a while back. But Shay's a bartender at a nearby pub."
Elsie's expression shifted slightly, a touch of disappointment flickering in her eyes. "He must be quite the handful," she remarked.
Alex shook his head gently, the corners of his mouth lifting. "Not as much as you'd think. I think it's because I cook."
"You learned to cook?" Elsie's eyes lit up with surprise and delight.
"Yeah," Alex nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I think I'm getting pretty good at it. Shay never says it outright, but his eyes always sparkle when I put food in front of him."
"I want to try your cooking!" Elsie exclaimed eagerly.
Alex nodded approvingly. "You should come over for dinner sometime."
For a moment, her smile wavered, becoming something less genuine, but she quickly recovered. "Sounds good."
Elsie began sharing her story, recounting the difficult times after Alex's absence. She confessed how she hadn't spoken to anyone for a long while, her sadness consuming her. She described their journey east under Viktor's leadership—her defiance, arguments, and attempts to undermine him at every turn.
"But then," she continued, "Viktor saved me from a homunculus when I tried to run away. He got another scar for it, but he didn't shout or punish me. He just held me and whispered, 'Thank God.'"
Though she didn't fully reconcile with Viktor, she admitted she started respecting him more, resisting him less. She spoke of the battles they faced against mages for three grueling months, sparked by Viktor's self-defense killing of a supplier who had tried to harvest his liver for some twisted potion.
"He's not a bad guy, Alex," Elsie said earnestly. "He treats everyone in the pack well. He's a great leader, I swear."
Alex was about to respond when Viktor entered the room.
"Ah, I see you're awake," Viktor greeted, his smile meant to be friendly. However, he received only a pair of cold, scrutinizing eyes from Alex.
It was a bit late for such greetings, considering Alex had been awake for hours.
"Elsie, could you give us a moment?" Viktor asked. She hesitated but rose to her feet.
"Don't keep him to yourself for too long!" she quipped before leaving to join the rest of the pack.
Viktor turned to Alex. "How are you these days?"
Alex's eyes narrowed. "Why did you kidnap me?" His tone was accusatory, filled with resentment.
Viktor's expression darkened slightly. "I want you to rejoin the pack. Be my companion, Alex."
Stunned, Alex couldn't respond immediately.
"The choice is yours," Viktor said with a calm smile. "You have until midnight. Think carefully."
With that, Viktor returned to the pack, affectionately ruffling Elsie's hair as she immediately launched into a playful argument, drawing smiles from everyone.
Alex watched, a shadow of pain crossing his face. His family was there, laughing, smiling, and looking at Viktor with admiration and affection—the same man who had separated him from them, the son of the wolf who had founded the pack. His family had betrayed him. Despite this, his face showed that he couldn't stay angry with them for that. Alex's eyes betrayed his yearning to belong, gleaming with a mixture of hope and longing, like two lonely fireflies in the dark.
Then the moment shattered. The ground trembled, the walls shook, and plaster rained from the ceiling. The left-hand section of the wall collapsed under a violent impact.
Alex found himself confronted by a huge, black monster.