"What are you two headed out there for?" the taxi driver asked. He was an older Black man with a gravelly voice that carried a note of genuine concern.
"She has family living in the area," Robert replied, weaving a spontaneous lie to guard their privacy.
The driver’s brow furrowed as he caught their eyes in the rearview mirror. "That address belongs to an old library. As far as I know, it’s been shuttered for years."
"Closed?" Robert echoed, his voice laced with sudden doubt.
The driver nodded firmly. "The neighborhood's hollowed out. Most people moved on. These days, it’s a hornet's nest for criminals. You kids best keep your wits about you."
"Yeah, thanks for the warning," Robert said, turning to find Hanna staring at him, her face clouded with growing unease. "Don’t worry, Hanna. We’ll just go check it out first."
Hanna gave a faint, fragile nod, trying to steady her racing heart.
The taxi continued at a measured pace, cruising toward Upper Manhattan. Hanna turned her gaze back to the window, but her earlier wonder began to wither as the city’s face shifted. The gleaming skyscrapers were replaced by rows of dilapidated tenements and streets that grew hauntingly empty.
The vehicle turned into an eerily quiet district. On either side, grimy brownstones stood like silent sentinels, as if guarding a thousand dark secrets. Robert and Hanna sat frozen, watching the bleak scenery blur past.
BOOM!
A deafening roar shook the very frame of the taxi. Before they could even register the sound, a violent force—invisible and absolute—slammed into the side of the car with devastating impact.
"Argh!"
"Ergh!"
Their screams collided.
The yellow cab was tossed into the air, spinning and flipping violently across the asphalt before finally crashing down in a heap of mangled steel. Glass shattered into a million diamonds, and the acrid stench of gasoline and smoke began to choke the air.
Silence reclaimed the street, broken only by the hiss of steam escaping the wreckage. Nearby, another taxi screeched to a halt. Zoey leaped out, her face deathly pale, followed by her frantic driver. They sprinted toward the burning ruins of the crash.
But before they could touch the hot metal, a black blur streaked across the pavement.
CRACK!
A massive blow landed squarely on the driver’s chest. His body was launched into the air, flying several yards before slamming into the brick wall of a nearby brownstone. Zoey, moving with the honed instincts of a trained killer, managed to cross her arms just in time to parry the strike. The impact was so ferocious it sent her skidding backward across the road, her boots smoking against the asphalt.
Inside the crushed cab, the world was spinning. The metallic tang of blood and the sharp scent of petrol filled their lungs.
"Hanna!" Robert screamed, his voice raw and trembling. His breath came in short, jagged gasps, pinned by the twisted cage of metal crushing his frame.
"Yeah... Robb..." a weak voice answered from the dark.
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"Are you okay? Answer me, Hanna!"
"Yeah... I’m... I’m fine," Hanna replied, though her voice sounded distant, fraying at the edges.
In the suffocating, cramped space, Robert forced his aching neck to turn. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her. Thick, crimson blood was streaming from her forehead, matting her hair and staining her pale cheeks.
"Hanna, you’re bleeding bad!" Robert’s voice cracked, tears pricking his eyes. "Your face..."
"Don't worry about me, Robb. I'm okay," Hanna whispered, her eyes drooping as she fought to stay conscious. "What about our driver? Is he safe?"
"I don't know... I can't see him," Robert said, panic finally clawing at his throat. He knew they couldn't stay trapped. "We have to get out."
Robert yanked at the door handle with every ounce of strength he possessed, but the metal was buckled and deadlocked. He didn't quit. Grunting through the white-hot pain in his shoulder, he pulled his legs up and slammed his feet into the mangled door with a desperate surge of adrenaline.
CRASH!
The door finally gave way. Robert crawled out through the jagged opening, gasping for air, every joint feeling as if it were being torn apart. With his remaining strength, he turned back and carefully pulled Hanna from the wreckage, handling her as if she were cracked porcelain.
But the moment their feet hit the asphalt, the hair on the back of Robert’s neck stood on end. His gaze locked onto a figure standing in the middle of the road, only a few yards away. The creature stood seven feet tall, covered in coarse, slate-grey fur with muscles that bulged like coiled serpents.
"W... what is that thing?" Robert stammered, his knees turning to water.
Hanna, who was busy wiping the blood that threatened to blind her, looked up.
"Hah!..." Her eyes went wide. Her body froze, paralyzed by a sheer, primal terror at the monster before them.
"Run, Hanna!" Zoey’s voice shrieked from a distance. "Run, now!"
Grrrr... The werewolf turned its head slowly, fixing its gaze on Zoey, baring its fangs as hunger-driven saliva dripped to the ground.
"Run!" Zoey screamed again. In a blur of motion, she unsheathed two short swords from her back. Her eyes were sharp, tracking the beast's every twitch, ready to die to ensure Hanna made it out.
Hanna snapped out of her trance. Though every inch of her body throbbed with pain, she forced herself up. "Quick, Robb! We have to run!" she urged. She grabbed Robert’s shoulder, using all her strength to help the boy find his footing.
"What is that, Hanna? Is that a dog?" Robert asked in pure disbelief.
"I don't know!"
As soon as Robert was upright, Hanna hesitated for a split second, her eyes searching for an escape through the maze of brownstones closing in on them. In that moment, Robert took charge. He gripped Hanna’s hand—a firm, steadying hold—and pulled her into a dark alleyway between two towering buildings.
Behind them, the rhythmic clang of Zoey’s blades clashing against the werewolf’s obsidian claws began to echo, shattering the eerie silence of the street.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Robert’s breathing was heavy and labored, his chest heaving. With his large frame and the injuries from the crash, every step felt like dragging a ton of lead. But the fear for Hanna’s safety far outweighed his own agony. He was determined to lead her away from the jaws of death.
"Hurry, Hanna!" Robert gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her out of the narrow passage. His eyes scanned for the next turn. "This way! Don't stop!"
Hanna followed blindly, her feet moving fast even as her mind spiraled. How could that creature be here? Had they been followed all the way from West Virginia? The realization that the werewolf knew their destination sent her heart hammering harder than the rhythm of her sprint.
Meanwhile, on the blood-soaked battlefield, Zoey was fighting for her life. She knew she was outmatched in raw strength, so she relied on her agility. Every time the werewolf swung a massive claw capable of shredding steel, Zoey twisted her body—a lethal dance on the edge of a blade.
Her twin swords moved like lightning, raining strike after strike upon the beast’s muscular hide. Dark, thick blood sprayed, but the wounds seemed to close almost as fast as she could make them.
Zoey’s defiance only fueled the werewolf’s rage. The creature let out a roar that vibrated through the surrounding buildings and doubled the speed of its assault. In a blur of motion she couldn't dodge, the beast's claws raked across Zoey’s midsection.
S-L-A-S-H!
"Argh!"
Zoey’s body was tossed like a ragdoll, flying through the air before her back slammed into the crumpled hull of the taxi. The impact was so violent it buckled the metal inward. Fresh blood sprayed from Zoey’s mouth, soaking her clothes. She slumped to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clutched the jagged wound in her stomach.
The werewolf stood tall, snarling at its broken prey, before its yellow eyes flickered back toward the alley where Hanna and Robert had vanished.
