I storm through the industrial plant, the scent of oil and metal thick in the air. The rhythmic clanking of machinery fills the space, blending with the sound of wolves barking orders and humans calling out instructions. Despite the hum of production, an undercurrent of tension lingers, palpable and unavoidable.
The past two weeks have been nothing short of a hunt, a frustrating game of cat and mouse with these damned leeches. Rogue vampires have been popping up like weeds, disrupting my workers, endangering my people—my pack. This is the last fucking straw.
I move with purpose, weaving through the sea of bodies who instinctively part like water, heads bowed in deference as I pass. A few whispers follow in my wake, but no one dares meet my gaze for too long. They can sense it. The danger in the air, the fury simmering just beneath my skin.
