Chapter Three: Into the Light

Evelyn barely drive back to the station. Her hands gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Damian Voss knew something—something about her father. He wanted her to know it, wanted to dangle the truth just out of reach.

Her mind replayed his words, over and over.

"Do you know what his last words were?"

That smug smile. That mocking tone.

Voss was taunting her.

But he had made a mistake.

She wasn’t walking away.

She parked outside the station, heart hammering. The confrontation at Voss Enterprises had left her rattled, but she still had unfinished business. Detective Decker. The cop selling them out.

The moment she walked into the station, the noise felt different—forced, unnatural. Officers typed on their computers, chatted in groups, but there was an undercurrent of tension, a shift in the air.

They knew.

Evelyn’s gaze locked onto Decker, standing near the vending machine, sipping coffee like nothing was wrong.

But he was wrong.

She strode toward him, her presence like a storm rolling in. He barely had time to react before she grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. The entire room fell silent.

“What the hell, Cross?” Decker spluttered, coffee spilling onto his shirt.

“You think I wouldn’t find out?” Evelyn’s voice was low, sharp as a blade. “You’ve been selling information to Voss.”

Decker’s eyes darted around the room. “That’s crazy.”

Evelyn yanked out her phone, shoving the screen in his face. “Then explain these deposits.”

His face went pale.

The room was dead silent now. Harris stepped forward, jaw clenched.

“Cross,” he warned.

But Evelyn didn’t let go.

“You leaked our moves,” she hissed. “Every time we got close, Voss was a step ahead. You’re the reason people are dead.”

Decker’s breathing turned ragged. “I—”

“Save it.” Evelyn released him roughly. “You’re done.”

Harris nodded to two nearby officers. “Cuff him.”

Decker didn’t resist. He didn’t even plead. He just lowered his head, defeated.

But Evelyn didn’t feel victory.

This was just a symptom of the disease.

And the disease was still out there.

Evelyn sat at her desk, scanning through every file, every lead. Decker was in lockup, but the damage was already done. The real problem was Voss.

The bastard had power, money, and protection.

He thought he was untouchable.

And maybe, legally, he was.

So she had to find another way.

Her father had followed the same trail thirty years ago. He had been close—so close that he vanished.

She needed to retrace his steps.

She dug through her father’s old files, reading every note, every detail. One name stood out.

The Red Hollow Club.

A private, exclusive lounge owned by Voss. Her father had gone there the night before he disappeared.

If she wanted answers, she had to go there too.

Evelyn walked through the heavy doors of the club, immediately hit by the scent of expensive liquor and cigar smoke. The place oozed wealth, every patron dressed like they owned the world.

She moved carefully, scanning faces. She didn’t belong here, and they knew it.

A bartender eyed her warily. “You lost?”

“Looking for someone.” She slid a photo onto the bar. “This man ever come here?”

The bartender barely glanced at it. “Don’t know him.”

He was lying.

Evelyn leaned closer. “Try again.”

The bartender hesitated, then flicked his gaze toward the VIP section. “If you’re smart, you’ll walk away.”

Evelyn smirked. “I’m not.”

She pushed past the velvet rope, ignoring the protests of the bouncers.

Inside, the atmosphere was different. Darker. Colder.

And then she saw him.

Damian Voss. Sitting at a private table, swirling a glass of whiskey.

He looked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Detective Cross. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Evelyn stopped a few feet away. “Where’s my father?”

Voss took a sip, unbothered. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

She clenched her fists. “I’m not playing games.”

“No,” he mused. “You’re trying to solve a puzzle that was never meant to be solved.”

Evelyn stepped closer. “I think you killed him.”

Voss chuckled. “You think so many things, Detective.”

Her blood boiled. “Tell me what happened to him.”

Voss leaned forward, his smile fading. “Why would I do that?”

Evelyn stared at him down, every muscle in her body coiled tight. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make it my life’s mission to destroy you.”

Voss studied her, then sighed. “Your father was a good man. But he got too close to something he didn’t understand.”

A chill ran through her. “And you made sure he disappeared.”

Voss smirked again. “I didn’t have to. It took care of him.”

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. “What?”

Voss stood, straightening his jacket. “Goodbye, Detective.”

Two security guards stepped forward.

She reached for her gun—

The lights flickered.

A scream echoed from the main club floor.

Evelyn turned sharply.

The bouncers outside the VIP lounge were gone. Blood streaked the walls.

Something moved in the shadows.

A growl. Low. Menacing.

Voss sighed. “And here we are.”

Evelyn’s heartbeat thundered. “What the hell is that?”

Voss smiled darkly. “You really should’ve walked away.”

Then the lights died completely.

And the screaming began.

Evelyn didn't remember running, but she did.

Gun in hand, she stumbled through the chaos, her breath sharp, her heartbeat wild. She fired into the dark, hearing a snarl, then silence. Then movement.

A blur of something rushed past her, so fast she barely caught its form.

Another scream. A man thrown across the room like a rag doll.

She turned, and there it was.

A creature.

Its glowing amber eyes locked onto hers. Fur bristled over a massive frame, claws gleaming under the dim light. Blood dripped from its fangs.

Then it lunged.

Evelyn raised her arm to shield herself—

Pain exploded through her wrist as claws ripped into her flesh. She fell back, gasping, gripping the wound.

The world blurred. People were still screaming, running, but her focus was on the thing in front of her.

A werewolf.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

She forced herself up, stumbling out of the club, pressing a hand to her bleeding arm.

The streets spun.

She had to get to a hospital.

The nurse stared at Evelyn’s wound, her expression unreadable.

“You’re lucky,” she said. “Most don’t make it.”

Evelyn swallowed. “You’ve seen this before?”

The nurse hesitated. “Not officially. But… yes.”

Evelyn gripped the edge of the bed. “Werewolves aren’t real.”

The nurse met her gaze, voice steady.

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

Evelyn’s breath caught.

Because deep down, she already knew.