Gabriel
One wrong step—and we were dead.
The thing was faster than us.
It moved in an unnatural way. Sometimes it ran on all fours, then suddenly on two legs. Its movements were jerky, as if its body didn't fit together properly.
But its gaze was clear.
And it was locked onto us.
We had been running for minutes through London's narrow streets, leaping over wooden barrels, cutting through alleys.
Yet it was still there.
Always.
Michael
My lungs burned.
We had learned so much, trained so hard.
Our bodies were stronger than before. Our reflexes sharper. But nothing had prepared us for this.
Isaac had outplayed us.
He had led us into the city, made us believe we were the hunters, set us on a false trail.
And then he had shown us that we were still prey.
"Left!" Raphael shouted.
We veered sharply into a narrow alley. I vaulted over an overturned crate—Gabriel stumbled briefly but recovered.
"This thing won't stop!" I shouted.
Raphael glanced back. "We need a plan!"
"What kind of plan?" Gabriel panted. "Fight or flee?"
I didn't know the answer.
Not yet.
Raphael
We vaulted over a small wall and landed in a back courtyard.
The streetlights flickered, a sign that the gas would soon run out.
The thing stopped in the shadows.
It stared at us.
It knew we were trapped.
No escape. No cover.
My breath was shallow.
I turned to the others. "We have to kill it."
Gabriel shook his head. "We have no weapons."
Michael scoffed. "Since when has that ever stopped us?"
Gabriel
It was a crazy plan.
But it was our only one.
We split up. I moved left, Raphael went right, and Michael stayed in the middle.
The thing focused on me.
I knew why.
I was always the one leading the charge. The one giving the most orders.
It saw me as the leader.
And that meant—I was the bait.
Isaac Crowe
I watched from a distance.
They had understood.
Finally.
They no longer thought like prey.
They thought like hunters.
But was it enough?
We would soon find out.
Michael
The beast lunged at Gabriel.
But he was faster.
He dodged to the side, letting himself drop low to avoid the attack.
And at the exact moment the thing turned, Raphael was there.
His makeshift spear—a broken metal pipe—plunged deep into its side.
But it wasn't enough.
It screamed.
And then it tore itself free.
Raphael
I was thrown back, my body slamming into a wall.
Pain shot through my spine, but I ignored it.
I had no time to recover.
The thing was wounded.
But it wasn't dead.
It moved angrily, panting, its eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Then it made a mistake.
It focused on me.
And it ignored Michael.
Michael
I struck.
My knife—a simple dagger I had bought from a street merchant—slashed through the air.
I drove it into the creature's neck.
Blood—or whatever was left of it—splattered onto my hand.
The thing trembled.
Then it collapsed.
Gabriel
I gasped for breath.
Adrenaline still pumped through my veins, my heart hammering against my ribs.
But it was over.
We had won.
Slowly, I turned to Isaac, who stood in the darkness, watching us.
"Well?" I asked.
He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over the dead creature.
Then he looked up.
"Not bad."
Isaac Crowe
They had survived.
But that wasn't the most important thing.
They hadn't just reacted.
They had taken control.
They were no longer fugitives.
They were hunters.
I turned away.
"We're not done yet."