The first howl rose over Everdale like a siren, deep, mournful, and thunderous.

  Inside the quiet police station, fluorescent lights buzzed over two weary officers.

  “Hey, you hear that?” Officer Christopher Morris asked, his pen frozen above a half-finished report.

  “Coyotes, maybe?” Ken Phelps muttered from behind the front desk, not looking up.

  Christopher frowned. “That’s too loud for a coyote.”

  Ken exhaled. “Man, I just want one calm shift.”

  Ten minutes later, calm was gone forever.

  A tremor rippled through the pavement outside, soft at first, then growing heavier, closer. The window blinds shuddered. Before either man could speak, the front doors exploded inward.

  Five shapes burst through the entryway, each massive and moving faster than the eye could track.

  The air filled with gunmetal screams. Flesh tore. Bone snapped. The two officers were dead before their chairs hit the floor.

  The Lycan stampede continued down the halls, shredding through walls, glass, and human bodies alike. No gunfire. No alarm. Only ripping sounds and the wet thud of bodies hitting tile.

  Sheryl and Karen led the charge, their black fur glistening under the fluorescent lights. Outside, Sheryl seized an Everdale police SUV and hurled it toward the nearby railway.

  The train’s headlight came into view too late.

  The SUV struck the front engine, derailing it in a cascade of metal and fire.

  A shockwave tore through downtown Everdale.

  Sheryl and Karen stood silhouetted against the flames, their twin roars echoing across the town. A sound like lions crossed with thunder. Then they dropped to all fours and vanished into the night.

  Across town, two more Lycans, Calus and Deborah, crashed through the glass doors of an all-night supermarket. The aisles turned to trenches. Shoppers screamed, ducking behind checkout counters that split like paper beneath claws.

  Calus tore into a man’s arms while Deborah bit through another’s ribcage. They pulled in opposite directions until what was once human became a scattered mass of pieces.

  The floor became a river of red.

  Then, as suddenly as they came, they were gone. Streaks of black vanishing through shattered windows, leaving only silence and ruin behind.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Miles out, a black pickup truck barreled toward Everdale.

  “All right,” Derek said, locking a fresh belt of silver-laced rounds into his M249. “Here we go.”

  Beside him, Olivia gripped the wheel. “You seeing this?”

  Ahead, smoke rose from downtown like storm clouds.

  “They’re out,” Derek muttered. “Locked and loaded?”

  “Yep. Let’s do this.”

  Olivia hit the gas.

  They turned a corner and froze.

  A single Lycan stood in the middle of the road, chest rising and falling like a bellows. Deborah. Her claws scraped asphalt. Drool steamed in the cool air.

  “Stop the truck.”

  Derek stepped out. The growl rolled down the street, vibrating in his ribs. Then she charged.

  He opened fire.

  Silver rounds ripped through her torso, glowing white hot as they struck flesh. Deborah stumbled, staggered, and collapsed, dead before she hit the pavement.

  Two more Lycans rushed from the shadows. Derek pivoted, firing short, controlled bursts. Both fell, their roars silenced in flashes of silver and smoke.

  Olivia rolled down her window and shouted, “We’re filling the streets with the Compound 47 smoke, but it’s not slowing them down!”

  “Then we end it the hard way,” Derek said. “Let’s move!”

  The truck roared down Main Street as Derek leaned out the window, firing into the chaos. Lycans fell one after another, shredded by gunfire, their bodies dissolving into clouds of smoke.

  For a moment, it looked like victory.

  Then silence.

  The streets ahead were littered with crushed cars, overturned buses, and blood-smeared walls. The air hung heavy with ash and death. Derek’s hands trembled around the weapon’s grip, not from fear, but from the weight of what he might have done.

  He did not know if one of the monsters he killed was his mother or his cousin.

  Olivia glanced at him. “You good?”

  He stared through the windshield, eyes hard.

  “No,” he said. “But I’m not stopping now.”

  Streetlights flickered in the haze of smoke and silver dust as they crept forward, headlights off. Everdale was a graveyard.

  “Area looks clear,” Olivia murmured.

  “Nothing’s clear tonight,” Derek replied.

  They turned the corner, and Derek froze.

  Under a collapsed SUV, a shape stirred. A torn black dress. A familiar face.

  “Hey, Olivia,” Derek said, voice breaking. “That’s my mom.”

  He sprinted forward, tossing aside twisted metal. Sheryl lay half buried in soot, hair matted, skin slick with sweat. When he touched her shoulder, her eyes fluttered open, human again.

  “Derek?” she whispered. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s over now, Mom. You’re safe.”

  She coughed violently, inhaling the silver residue hanging in the air. Compound 47 had done its work, burning the hive link from her mind. Horror flooded her face as memories crashed in.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

  “That wasn’t you,” Derek said firmly. “You were being controlled.”

  Outside the truck, Olivia scanned the alley.

  Then the growl came.

  Calus hit like a freight train, grabbing Derek and hurling him across the street. He slammed into a dumpster, metal screaming.

  The hulking werewolf stepped into moonlight, nearly nine feet tall, fur black as asphalt.

  Derek fired. Silver rounds tore through the air, but Calus smashed the weapon aside and slashed Derek’s shoulder, blood spraying hot across the pavement.

  Something inside Derek snapped.

  Veins darkened. Muscles surged. Hair exploded across his arms and chest. His jaw reshaped into a lion’s maw, mane rippling down his spine.

  Sheryl pressed a hand to the glass. “No…”

  Derek rose, a lion forged from man.

  The werelion met Calus head-on.

  They collided with such force that it shattered glass for blocks. Claws tore. Teeth sank—cars folded like paper beneath them.

  Calus bit into Derek’s shoulder. Derek grabbed his throat and slammed him into a wall, brick cracking.

  With one final surge, Derek lifted Calus and impaled him on jagged rebar jutting from wreckage.

  The werewolf howled once, then went still.

  Olivia stepped from the smoke and fired a single silver round into Calus’s head.

  The night fell silent again.

  Bayou Blood: The Awakening. If this chapter hit hard, a follow, rating, or comment on Royal Road helps more than you know.