The rain came down hard on the city, washing Bourbon Street clean of blood that no one wanted to see.

  Neon lights bled across wet pavement, turning puddles into broken mirrors. Music spilled from doorways. Laughter drowned out sirens. New Orleans kept moving the way it always did, fast and careless, pretending it was untouchable.

  On a side street, a rideshare sedan rolled to a slow stop.

  The driver sat perfectly still.

  Timothy Burns adjusted the mirror and studied his face. Thirty-eight years old. Tired eyes. A jawline that still looked decent in the right light. The kind of face people trusted. The kind they forgot five minutes later. That used to bother him.

  It didn’t anymore.

  In the trunk, something shifted.

  Tim smiled and reached back, knocking twice on the metal. The sound echoed through the car like a signal. The movement stopped. Obedient.

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  “Easy,” he whispered. “We’ll make something beautiful tonight.”

  His phone buzzed. A request. Two passengers. Pick up a block away.

  Tim slid the car into gear and pulled into traffic, merging with the river of headlights and noise. He felt it then, the thing under his skin stretching awake. Not pain. Never pain. More like a breath being taken after years of holding it in.

  He could hear heartbeats now. Smell fear before it existed. Taste the city through the open window.

  This place was different from the bayou. Louder. Dirtier. More alive.

  Perfect.

  The car stopped at the curb. A couple leaned in, laughing, drunk, careless.

  “Timothy?” the woman asked.

  “That’s me,” he said, warm and easy. “Hop in.”

  They did.

  The door closed. The locks clicked.

  As the car pulled away, Tim glanced at the rearview mirror one last time. His pupils flashed, just for a second, stretching too wide, reflecting something that didn’t belong to a man anymore.

  Above the street, on a fire escape, a cat knocked over a bottle and hissed at nothing.

  Somewhere far away, Derek Brown woke up gasping, his heart racing for no reason he could name.

  And in the depths of the city, the Death Claw virus found what it had always been searching for.

  A willing hand.