Chapter Four: Into The Abyss

Pain throbbed in Evelyn’s arm, a relentless reminder of the impossible truth. The nurse’s words echoed in her mind.

"They are, Detective. And if you don’t start believing that, you’re already dead."

She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t seeing things. The blood seeping through the hospital bandages proved that. The creature in the Red Hollow Club was real—impossibly fast, impossibly strong. A werewolf.

And Damian Voss knew about it.

The sterile hospital room felt suffocating. The fluorescent lights buzzed, and the scent of antiseptic burned her nose. She needed answers. She needed to move.

Ignoring the nurse’s protests, Evelyn ripped off her IV and stumbled toward the exit. Her head swam, but she pushed through it. She couldn’t afford to rest.

The moment she stepped outside, the night felt different—thick with something unseen, something watching.

A shiver ran down her spine.

She wasn’t alone.

Her fingers hovered over her holster as she scanned the parking lot. Empty. Quiet. Too quiet.

Then—movement.

A shadow flickered across the far end of the lot, barely a blur, but she saw it.

She wasn’t imagining things.

Evelyn’s grip tightened on her gun. "Come out."

Silence.

Her pulse hammered.

Then—behind her.

A rush of air. A presence.

She spun just in time.

A figure loomed in the darkness, tall and eerily still. Not the werewolf. Something else. A man.

No—not a man.

His eyes gleamed unnaturally, silver catching the dim light. He took a slow step forward, head tilting slightly.

"You’re in over your head, Detective."

Evelyn raised her gun. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure didn’t answer. He moved—so fast she barely saw it.

A hand clamped around her wrist, twisting her gun away before she could fire. She gasped, but she didn’t freeze. She drove her knee up, aiming for his ribs.

But he caught her leg mid-air.

Impossible.

He was inhumanly strong.

"You’re wasting time," he said calmly as if her struggle didn’t matter. "You think you’re hunting the truth, but the truth is hunting you."

Evelyn grits her teeth, using her free hand to go for the knife strapped to her waist.

The man-creature—sighed. "Enough."

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent her flying backward.

Her body crashed against the pavement. Pain jolted through her spine, knocking the breath from her lungs.

She coughed, forcing herself up, the gun shaking in her grip. "You work for Voss?"

The man’s expression didn’t change. "I don’t work for him."

Evelyn’s heart pounded. "Then who the hell are you?"

For the first time, his lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. "A warning."

Then he was gone.

Not walking. Not running. Just… gone.

Like he had melted into the night.

Evelyn’s breath came in sharp bursts. Her arm throbbed, her ribs ached, but nothing hurt worse than the realization settling in her gut.

This was bigger than Voss. Bigger than her father’s case.

And she had just made herself a target.

Breaking the Chain

Back at the precinct, Evelyn paced her office, piecing it together. Decker was gone, locked up, but that didn’t solve anything.

The werewolves. The stranger in the parking lot. Voss.

How deep did this go?

She pulled out the files, cross-referencing everything her father had worked on. There had to be a link. A pattern.

Then—she found it.

A series of missing persons cases. All men. All officers.

All are linked to Voss Enterprises.

Her father wasn’t the first cop who went after Voss.

And he wouldn’t be the last.

A chill spread through her.

She was next.

Morning came too soon. Evelyn didn’t sleep. She barely moved from her desk, pouring over files, trying to make sense of it.

A knock at her door made her jump.

Ramirez stood there, holding two coffee cups. "You look like hell."

Evelyn took the coffee without a word, sipping it mechanically.

Ramirez frowned. "Talk to me."

Evelyn hesitated. If she told him the truth, he’d think she lost her mind. But if she didn’t—

"You ever hear of werewolves, Ramirez?"

He snorted. "Is that a joke?"

She didn’t smile.

Ramirez’s face fell. "Wait. You’re serious?"

Evelyn set down her coffee, rolling up her sleeve. The bandages on her arm were fresh, but the marks underneath weren’t normal.

Ramirez’s jaw tightened. "Damn, Cross…"

She met his gaze. "I saw one."

Silence stretched between them. Then, Ramirez exhaled slowly. "And Voss?"

"He knows something." She leaned forward. "I think he controls them."

Ramirez ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus."

Evelyn nodded. "Yeah."

A long pause. Then Ramirez straightened. "So what’s the plan?"

Evelyn stared at her files, at the names of the missing officers.

"We end this," she said.

"Before they end us."

Somewhere deep in the city, hidden beneath layers of wealth and power, Damian Voss sat in the dim glow of his private chamber. The walls were lined with ancient books, relics of a past few understood. Shadows flickered against the polished mahogany desk where he rested his hands.

Across from him, three figures stood, their faces unreadable, their postures rigid. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

Voss exhaled, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a slow sip. His sharp gaze flickered toward them.

"Evelyn Cross is moving too fast." His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it—a quiet, dangerous finality. "She knows too much already. The only thing stopping her is evidence."

One of the men shifted slightly. "She doesn’t have proof yet."

"She will," Voss said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "And when she does, it’s over."

A long silence followed. Then Voss leaned forward, his silver eyes gleaming in the low light.

"We have to take care of her. Fast."

The figures nodded.

The hunt had begun.

Evelyn sat in her office, her injured wrist wrapped tightly in fresh bandages. The pain was a dull throb, a constant reminder that everything she thought she knew about the world had just shattered. Werewolves were real.

And so was the danger she was in.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the case files spread across her desk. None of it mattered now. The murders, the cover-ups, the missing pieces—they were all tied to something far bigger than she had ever imagined.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

Before she could answer, Ramirez pushed his way in, his face tight with urgency. In his hands was a thick manila envelope.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” he said, dropping it onto her desk.

Evelyn sat up. “What is it?”

Ramirez hesitated. “Anonymous drop-off. No fingerprints. No cameras caught who left it. But, Cross… if this is real, Voss is screwed.”

Her pulse quickened as she ripped the envelope open, spilling its contents onto the desk.

Photos. Documents. Records that shouldn’t exist.

The first picture made her stomach twist—a crime scene photo from thirty years ago. A body ripped apart under the light of a full moon. The name on the report made her breath hitch.

Detective Samuel Cross. Her father.

Her hands trembled as she flipped through the papers. There were reports of similar attacks, all marked as “unsolved” or “wild animal incidents.” But the truth was right in front of her.

These weren’t animal attacks.

They were werewolf attacks.

And then she saw it—a grainy surveillance still, taken from inside Voss Enterprises. The image was old, but the man in the frame was unmistakable.

Damian Voss.

Standing over her father’s dead body.

Evelyn’s blood turned ice-cold.

“Holy shit,” Ramirez muttered, staring at the photo. “He was there.”

Evelyn’s fingers clenched the paper, her jaw tightening. “He didn’t just know my father. He killed him.”

Her mind raced. This was the missing piece. The thing that tied everything together.

This was proof.

But who sent it? And why now?

As if reading her mind, Ramirez frowned. “Who else knows you’re this close?”

Evelyn exhaled sharply. “Not enough people.” She grabbed her gun and her badge. “But I’m about to change that.”

She had spent her whole life searching for the truth.

Now, she had it.

And she was going to bring Damian Voss down.