As he rounded the corner of a large industrial fridge, he froze. There, crouched in the shadows, was a werewolf. Its yellow eyes locked onto him, lips curling back to reveal razor-sharp teeth.
"Oh shit," Kazuo whispered.
Kazuo's heart leapt into his throat. He stumbled backward, knocking into a stack of pots that clattered to the floor.
"Kazuo?" Amélie's voice called out. "What's going on?"
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the beast. "Uh, we've got company," he managed to croak out.
Amélie appeared in the doorway, eyes widening as she took in the scene. "Holy shit," she breathed.
The werewolf's muscles tensed. Kazuo searched for a way out of this mess. "What do we do?" he asked.
"I don't... I don't know. Can we run?"
Before Kazuo could respond, the wolf rose to its full height. It towered over them, easily clearing six feet. Its massive form knocked over shelves and sent cookware clattering to the floor.
