werewolves
Walt barked, tyres squealing as he shot for the street.
The werewolf flashed through his headlights, sprinting full-tilt across the lane.
“Oh, fuck. Die, you—”
He floored it. High beams flared across a nightmare face—just as it leapt.
Glass exploded. The beast punched through the windscreen and landed in the cab.
The truck fishtailed, lost it, and hammered a brick wall. Metal screamed. The cabin lurched.
Walt screamed back as the werewolf pounced.
Sirens will converge within minutes, the first “animal attack” of the night that the morning bulletins will call a “possible dog mauling.” Back at St Vincent’s, alarms and reports will ripple toward Jake and Kimberly—pulling them out of the quiet b
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