Morning sunlight filtered through the narrow slats of the reinforced windows, but it did little to warm the walls of Laboratory Three. The facility in New Era looked sterile on the surface, yet every corridor carried the quiet throb of something predatory beneath the metal and glass.
Sheryl Brown sat on the edge of a metal cot, dressed in a solid blue jumpsuit the guards had tossed her earlier. Her skin was still damp from the supervised shower they forced her through. She had counted four guards in the room during that shower and another two outside the door. They were scared of her, even sedated. She could smell it.
Her senses were dulled by whatever Dr. Cunningham had injected her with, but they were not gone. She could not transform, but her instincts still whispered at the edges of her mind. Something dangerous, something ancient, wanted to wake up inside her.
She inhaled slowly and stood when the guards opened her door.
Two escorted her down the hallway, rifles held close. They brought her into a small conference room with a table bolted to the floor—a chair on each end. Sheryl sat. The door locked behind her.
A moment later, Lucas Kain entered.
He carried himself like a man who believed the world belonged to him. Tall, lean, calculated. Dr. Victoria Cunningham followed him inside, her expression unreadable behind her glasses.
Lucas placed a tablet on the table and sat across from Sheryl.
“Good morning,” he said with a pleasantness that felt rehearsed.
Sheryl leaned back, eyes hard. “Why am I here, Lucas?”
He smiled as if he had been waiting for that question.
“This is the part where I explain why we brought you here the way we did,” he said. “You are here because we intend to restart Project Death Claw.”
Sheryl’s chair scraped as she lurched forward. “What?”
Lucas gestured toward her calmly. “You are proof that the project was a success.”
Sheryl narrowed her eyes. “Explain that.”
“Gladly,” Lucas said. “Look at you. Your aging has slowed dramatically. You have superhuman strength, speed, healing, and instincts sharper than any animal on record. And the most useful part is that you can turn into a creature capable of tearing through any enemy we point you at.”
He tapped the tablet. Images flashed across the screen. Crime scene remnants. Maps. Surveillance photos. Classified Everdale reports.
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“We know what happened three years ago,” Lucas continued. “The RV couple. The Talons Club. Monica Scales and her little real estate empire. Every last detail.”
Sheryl clenched her jaw. The memories flickered like distant thunder.
“When the lab exploded, our people investigated the site long before cleanup crews arrived,” Lucas said. “The government knows the truth, but they refuse to acknowledge any of it publicly. You and your son were supposed to stay hidden, but that was never an option. Not for us.”
He folded his hands.
“When the Department of Defense first announced the creation of Project Death Claw, our company applied to serve as its private development partner. We wanted to create the serum. But instead, they chose to keep the work in-house. They hired Dr. Bill Carroll and Dr. Carlos Marsh.”
Sheryl’s stomach tightened at the mention of Marsh.
Lucas continued. “When the government shut down the project, we realized they were wasting an opportunity. So, we intend to bring it back ourselves. Privately. And with far fewer restrictions.”
Sheryl stared at him. “Benefit how?”
Lucas smiled thinly. “It starts with you.”
He leaned forward.
“We are going to create more werewolves like you. But we need your DNA to reverse engineer a stable strain. There will be at least five subjects to start with. You would be the first and the strongest.”
Sheryl felt something cold coil inside her ribcage.
Lucas went on. “We might even consider reactivating your former packmate, Karen. That remains to be seen. But your son Derek is definitely on our list.”
Sheryl’s voice dropped into a low growl. “Do not touch him.”
“Oh, come now, Sheryl,” Lucas replied. “Once this project is complete, all of you will serve the interests of Dairfax. You will eliminate threats. Rival companies. Competing executives. Cartel partners. Even certain government officials.”
He looked satisfied with her horror.
“Simply put, you will become our weapon. Murder for hire.”
Sheryl spit at him, her expression filled with fury. “You idiot. Do you think we asked for any of this?”
Lucas wiped his sleeve slowly, unimpressed.
“My son and I were just trying to live normal lives,” Sheryl said. “We are not trying to be heroes. We saved the world last year, and the government called it an earthquake. Derek and I know what happened that night. You do not.”
Lucas tapped the table once.
“Well, Sheryl, that is life. The virus chose you. And now you will comply with what comes next.”
Sheryl leaned forward, teeth clenched. “And if I refuse.”
Lucas gestured to Dr. Cunningham.
“We have a machine that will wipe your memories clean. Everything that makes you human. Every emotion. Every bond. Every reason you have to resist.”
Dr. Cunningham stepped closer, her voice cool and professional. “You would retain your intelligence. Your instincts. And your physical abilities. But your identity would be replaced with commands.”
Lucas smiled again. “You would be the perfect killer. You would obey without hesitation. You would become exactly what you were designed to be.”
Sheryl’s hands curled into fists, the sedative fighting to keep her from shaking the room apart.
“You are one sick bastard,” she said quietly.
Lucas stood, gathering his tablet. “You will see things our way soon.”
He nodded to the guards.
“That is all for now.”
As they escorted her out, the sedative pulsed in her veins like ice. Her vision blurred. Her breathing tightened.
But deep beneath the forced calm, something inside her stirred.
A low vibration.
A warning.
A promise.
Whatever Dairfax thought they could turn her into, they were wrong.
The monster inside Sheryl Brown did not belong to them.
Not now.
Not ever.