Chapter Four:The Night They Saved Me

The claws came down but the blow never landed.

Because, that instant, a vicious howl ruptured the silence - raw, guttural, and impossibly loud. It wasn’t a sound born from anything human or sane. It echoed through the underground parking lot like thunder rolling across a steel sky. The demon’s claw halted mid-air, trembling. It turned, snarling, but even it hesitated.

Evangeline’s ears rang as her heart stuttered. Her lungs locked up as if the very air had turned solid in her chest.

And, then, they came.

From the shadows, four enormous wolves erupted like ghosts given flesh, bleach-white and silent, their forms a blur of violence and grace. They looked like they had risen from the bone dust of some long-dead battlefield, unnatural in their purity, and monstrous in their scale.

Each of them moved like a ripple of death through the concrete darkness. Their paws barely made a sound, but the sheer presence of them sent vibrations crawling through the floor and up Evangeline’s spine.

Their molten golden eyes caught the light. It was not just the usual yellow of animalistic instinct, but something else - something old, aware, intelligent.

Malik, whom had jumped away from Evangeline, tried to run, but it was already too late. The first wolf lunged with a deep, rolling growl, its jaws locking around the demon’s throat.

There was a sickening crunch and black blood sprayed across the asphalt. The high ranked demon shrieked, its skin blistering where the wolf's fangs sank in, smoke hissing from the wound like acid.

The second wolf tackled Skarra to the ground, the collision rattling a nearby car as the metal crumpled. The wolf’s claws - long, curved, and edged with something gleaming - raked across the demon’s face in a savage arc. Sparks flew, as his flesh parted like wet paper.

The third and fourth wolves circled wide. They moved like sentient shadows, stalking with perfect synchronization, cutting off any avenue of retreat. Nyra had bolted toward the exit ramp, but she didn’t get far. The fourth wolf leapt, striking mid-air, and brought her crashing down in a heap of snapping limbs.

The sound of battle was grotesque and immediate; her ear drums boomed due to the snarls, cracking bones, and gurgling screams. Each demon fell beneath the white wolves with coordinated precision and terrifying strength.

In short, it was a total massacre.

Within moments, the last of the demons gave a final, rattling screech as its body convulsed and then retreated, disappearing in a puff of smoke. The smoke curled upward in trails of oily shadow before vanishing into nothing.

Silence reclaimed the garage, but it wasn’t the same silence as before. It was denser now, thicker, but electric.

Only the wolves remained now, and they had turned to her.

All four had their, oddly familiar, golden eyes fixed on Evangeline like beams of judgment. They didn’t move, neither did they blink as they watched her.

Evangeline’s body trembled as blood leaked from the gash in her side, spreading in a warm, like a wet halo beneath her. Her limbs were leaden, but survival screamed in her mind

'MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!' her mind screamed.But she couldn’t.

Her muscles refused to answer.

Her right hand, slick with blood, slipped across the pavement until it brushed something metal.

The wrench she had dropped.

Her fingers instantly curled around it instinctively.

She raised the instrument, barely able to lift her arm. The tremor was visible in her wrist.

“Stay back,” she whispered, though it sounded more like a plea than a threat.

Her voice cracked against the weight of her fear.

But, wolves didn’t advance. But they didn’t retreat either. Their heads tilted, eerily synchronized, as though considering her with something close to amusement - or pity - she couldn't tell.

Then, a second howl shattered the standoff.

This one was different; it was deeper, and older.

It wasn’t just a sound - it was a command; and it caused vibration in her bones. A voice that predated language. It thrummed through the concrete like the low note of a forgotten god.

The wolves immediately lowered their heads. Not in fear, but deference, as they stepped aside.

And, then, something came.

From the far end of the garage, where the emergency light flickered like a dying star, a shadow detached itself from the gloom. It moved forward - not quickly, not slowly - but with the calm, deliberate grace of a being that feared nothing.

At that moment, Evangeline’s pulse skidded.

At first, she thought it was another wolf, she soon realized how wrong she was. It wasn’t just another wolf.... it was THE wolf.

The titan wolf was taller than the rest by nearly a head, broader across the shoulders, its limbs sculpted with dense, primal muscle. Its fur wasn’t white, it was silver, streaked with dark striations that moved like smoke along its flank. When it walked, its paws made no sound. Only the faint hiss of its breath and the subtle ripple of air around it betrayed its movement.

Its golden eyes met hers, it was not just gold.

These weren’t eyes that hunted or judged. These were eyes that remembered. That saw too much. That carried centuries of sorrow and rage behind a single glance.

And she recognized them, not from dreams, nor from stories, but from memory.

Her chest tightened, as her vision flickered, recalling what happened five years ago.

She remembered the accident, blood, and her screaming. The ethereal man, curled in the burning car, and the bite at midnight. And a single figure — a silhouette half-man, half-wolf - standing in her living room.

Those eyes.

They had looked back at her then with the same quiet sorrow.

It was him.

The massive wolf stepped within inches of her now. Her wrench dropped from her hand, clinking against the floor. Her arm fell useless to her side, as pain surged through her abdomen, sharp and insistent. Her vision had begun to double, but the four other wolves didn’t move.

They simply waited, silently and reverently, ss though awaiting their king’s command.

Evangeline stared up through the blur. Her voice barely escaped her lips.

“…Is it you from five years ago?”

The wolf’s eyes flinched, like a ripple passed through his very soul.

And then, he changed, not violently, nor like in horror films or folklore.

The shift was graceful, as the fur seemed to melt away into skin. Limbs shrank and reshaped. Bones snapped into place with a soft series of pops.

Within seconds, the beast was gone—and in its place stood a man.

Tall, bare-chested, and blood smeared across one shoulder, he wore a short white furry kilt, as he stood before her. His skin was bronze-hued, streaked with faint silvery lines that glowed for a moment before fading.

But it was his face that stole her breath.

Not because it was beautiful - though it was - but because it hadn’t changed.

The man from five years ago.

The one she had pulled out from the crashed car.

The one who had bitten her.

He now knelt beside her, but said nothing.

He just reached out, and with infinite gentleness, gathering her into his arms.

Her body sagged against his as her head weakly fell against his chest. He was warm... too warm. Like a living furnace, his heartbeat thundered beneath her ear, steady and calm.

The pain began to fade, not because she was healing, but because her body was giving out.

Around them, the other wolves had began to appear and they began to circle them. Low growls rippled between them - soft, rhythmic, like a chant in an ancient tongue. She could feel something shifting in the air.

The wolf man leaned down, resting his cheek briefly against her temple.

“Still so stubborn,” he murmured.

His voice was rough velvet. It's familiar tones wrapped around her like a memory.

She wanted to ask him everything:

Why he’d left her?

Why she was still alive?

What was happening to her?

But her lips couldn’t form the words.

The shadows closed in. Her eyes fluttered. She saw a flicker of the ceiling light overhead.

Then, just before the dark claimed her, she thought she saw one of the wolves bow its head and weep.

And then, her world finally turned dark.