Chapter Nine: The Point of No Return

Evelyn’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she left the interrogation room, the weight of the recorder in her pocket pressing against her like an unbearable truth. Commissioner Henry Smith had offered her power and influence—a way out of the tangled mess she found herself in. But she wasn’t that kind of cop.

She stepped into the dimly lit hallway, breathing deeply to steady herself. The station felt different tonight—quieter, heavier as if the walls themselves knew what she had uncovered. She barely noticed the figure moving in the shadows until it was too late.

A cold hand clamped around her wrist. Before she could react, she was yanked into a dark corridor, her back slamming against the wall. Her instinct kicked in, elbow shooting out, but the grip was unyielding.

“Nathan,” she hissed, recognizing his scent before her eyes fully adjusted. It wasn’t just blood and sweat—it was something primal, something that sent a shiver down her spine.

His eyes glowed in the darkness, not red with anger this time, but something deeper, something ancient. The rage hadn’t left him, but now it was accompanied by something else.

“You have no idea what you’ve stepped into,” Nathan said, his voice a guttural growl, his breath hot against her skin.

She pushed against him, and this time, he let her go. He staggered back, pressing his fingers against his temples as if trying to contain whatever was clawing its way to the surface. His muscles twitched, veins bulging beneath his skin.

Evelyn knew the signs. She had seen them before.

“You’re shifting,” she said, barely above a whisper.

 Let out a sharp laugh that turned into a ragged breath. “I’m trying not to.”

His teeth sharpened before her eyes, the air around them thickening with something unnatural. He was fighting it, but losing. And in the confined space of the precinct, if he lost control, there wouldn’t be a way to contain him before the body count started rising.

Evelyn reached into her pocket, gripping the small vial of wolfsbane she carried around. A precaution, nothing more—until now.

Nathan’s head snapped up, his nostrils flaring. He could smell it. His body tensed, prepared for a fight.

“I don’t want to use it,” she said, keeping her voice even. “But if you lose control here, they’ll put you down like a rabid dog.”

He sucked in a breath, his claws flexing. “They already see me as one.”

A crash sounded down the hall—shouts of officers coming their way. Evelyn had seconds to decide. If they found Nathan like this, in mid-shift, there would be no trial, no arrest. Just bullets and blood.

“Come with me,” she said suddenly.

His glowing eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I can’t protect you here. But I can get you somewhere safe. Where you should get answers to your questions.”

Nathan hesitated, his body still trembling from the barely contained transformation. But then he nodded, once, sharp and quick.

Evelyn grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the exit. The precinct was waking up, officers responding to the commotion, but she knew the back ways, the blind spots in the security feeds. She had used them before.

At the threshold, she glanced back. "Go. Don’t look back."

Nathan slipped into the night, the city stretching before him. His breath was still ragged, but the shift had slowed, control inching back with every step.

And Evelyn?

She had just committed career suicide. 

Evelyn sat in the dim glow of her apartment, the weight of her decision pressing against her like an iron chain. The city outside pulsed with distant sirens and muffled voices, but she barely heard them. Her mind was consumed by one question: Why did she help Nathan escape?

He was a criminal. Not just any criminal—a wanted man, a dangerous fugitive with blood on his hands. But that wasn’t the worst part.

He wasn’t just a man.

Evelyn had spent years hunting monsters, and now she had let one slip through her fingers. She could still see the primal glow in Nathan’s eyes, the shift rippling under his skin. He had barely been holding himself together, and she had seen firsthand what happened when werewolves lost control.

So why had she let him go?

She clenched her jaw, pressing her fingers against her temples. It wasn’t just about Nathan. It was about the truth buried beneath all of this—the secrets the commissioner was keeping, the corruption that ran through the veins of this city. Nathan wasn’t the root of the rot. He was just another victim of it.

Her phone buzzed, breaking through the fog of her thoughts. She hesitated before picking it up.

Commissioner Henry Smith.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, bracing herself before answering. "Detective Cross."

"We need to talk," Henry's voice came through, smooth, controlled—too controlled. "Meet me at the usual place."

She didn’t reply; she just ended the call and grabbed her jacket. The 'usual place' meant the rooftop of an old government building overlooking the city, a place where no one could listen in.

By the time she arrived, Henry was already there, standing near the edge, hands in his coat pockets. The city lights cast long shadows across his face, deepening the lines that had been forming over the years. He turned as she approached, his gaze steady.

"You let him go."

Evelyn's brow furrowed. "Wait—how did you find out that I let Nathan go?"

Evelyn didn't flinch. "I did."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then Henry exhaled, almost amused. "You know what this means, don’t you? You’ve chosen your side."

Evelyn crossed her arms. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just done playing by rules that only protect the ones who write them."

Henry chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You think you understand the game, Evelyn, but you don’t. You never did. There are things in motion that you can’t even begin to comprehend. Letting Nathan go was a mistake."

She took a step closer, her voice lowering. "Maybe. But so was underestimating me."

Henry’s smirk faded. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn saw something in his eyes that wasn’t arrogance.

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. "Watch your back, Detective. You’ve just made enemies in places you don’t even know exist."

Evelyn didn’t look back as she descended the stairs. She already knew.

And she was ready for them.

The night air was thick with tension as Evelyn navigated the dimly lit streets, her mind a tangled mess of thoughts. Every step she took felt heavier as if the weight of her decision to let Nathan go had finally settled deep into her bones. She could still hear the commissioner’s words echoing in her head.

"You’ve made enemies in places you don’t even know exist."

But that wasn’t what haunted her most. It was the nagging feeling in her gut that she had only begun to uncover the real truth. Nathan wasn't just a fugitive—he was a key, a living, breathing link to something far bigger than she had ever imagined.

She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Evelyn ducked into a side alley, her pulse quickening. She had sent a message to an old contact, someone who had once owed her a favor. If there was anyone who could dig up information on Nathan Cole, it was Vincent Raines—a hacker who specialized in making the impossible possible.

The door at the end of the alley creaked open before she even knocked. Inside, the glow of multiple monitors illuminated Vincent’s lanky frame. He smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"You always come knocking when there’s trouble," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"And you always have the answers," Evelyn shot back, stepping inside. "I need everything you can find on Nathan Cole. Not just police records—everything."

Vincent raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her. He cracked his fingers and started typing, his screens flickering with streams of data. A few minutes passed in tense silence before he let out a low whistle.

"Well, well, well. Your boy Cole is more than just a criminal. He’s a ghost. Multiple identities, no official birth records, and—get this—anomalous medical records."

Evelyn frowned. "Anomalous how?"

Vincent swiveled in his chair. "His DNA isn’t fully human. And before you ask—yeah, I’ve seen weird cases before, but this? This is something else. Whoever Nathan is, someone has gone to great lengths to keep it buried."

A chill ran down Evelyn’s spine. She had suspected Nathan was different, but now she had proof. And if someone had worked this hard to erase his past, it meant he was more dangerous than she had realized.

Or more important.

She pulled out a flash drive and slid it across the desk. "Copy everything."

Vincent hesitated. "Evelyn, I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but be careful. If someone finds out you’re digging this deep—"

"They already know," she interrupted. "Just do it."

As Vincent transferred the files, Evelyn glanced at the door, her hand resting on the gun at her hip. She wasn’t just looking over her shoulder anymore.

She was preparing for war.