The eerie stillness that came with Damien's exit was much more oppressive than any sound could ever be. Selena stood with her back pressed against the door, the deadbolt a cold, inadequate piece of metal between her and the sprawling, dark city. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden quiet of her apartment. What had just happened? One moment she was a journalist on the trail of a corrupt billionaire, and the next she was a keeper of a dying man's cryptic plea. It's the full moon tonight. Lock your door. Whatever you hear… don't go outside. Absurd, the stuff of gothic horror novels, not the reality of her life in Queens. Breakdown, psychotic episode brought by stress or drugs, that was the rational explanation. Yet, the memory of his eyes, the sheer, animalistic terror and pain swirling in their depths, defied logic. The memory of the feverish heat pouring from his skin was too real. She pushed away from the door and began to pace, a caged animal in her own home, wrapping her arms around herself. Her mind, trained to find facts and patterns, was desperately trying to assemble the pieces of the puzzle that was Damien Voss, but they refused to fit. The ruthless CEO, the haunted man, the monster he warned her about- how could they all be the same person?
Then came the sound: It was low, a sound that seemed to carry on the wind for miles, but by the time it was so close it would have been felt vibrating your bones. A howl. It was not some yapping neighborhood dog or the distant wail of a coyote. This was a sound of pure, primordial agony, wasn't quite silent, and bled into a declaration of raw, untamed power. It clawed at the night sky with long, mournful cries, embracing loneliness deep enough, to make her own chest ache, and fierceness supreme, raised goosebumps on her arms. The city, lifeless with thrumming traffic and all, seemed suddenly hushed behind it as if gripped by some sort of terror. Selena was mid-step frozen with blood consonance. That sound... the very sound of the monster he warned her of. The illogical, impossible truth of his warning slammed into her with the force of a physical blow. She fumbled her way to the window, peering down at the empty street below, fogging the cool glass with her breath. Everything looked normal, and yet everything felt different. Outside her window, now, it felt as if the world was charged with a hidden threat.
Waiting, then, is a unique kind of torture. Every creak of the old building's pipes sends a fresh jolt of adrenaline through her; every siren in the far distance does the same. She tried to distract herself by turning on the television, but the cheerful chitchat of a late-night talk show seemed obscene and intrusive to her. So she turned it off. She picked up a book but could not read. The words seemed to swim. Her eyes flickered between the locked door and to the phone in her hand. Who would she even call? The cops? To tell them a billionaire CEO was sick and warned her about the full moon? They would think she is mad. The only thing she had left from that promise to him-- a promise made silently to a man who is probably losing his mind-- was that flimsy shield against the coming storm. An hour passed. Then another. Just as she was starting to convince herself it was all in her head, that the howl was a figment of her overactive imagination, the sounds of chaos began. Faint at first. The distant screech of tires, followed by a muffled crash. Then shouting. She grabbed her laptop, her journalistic instincts kicking in despite her fear, and scanned the local news feeds. A trickle of frantic, unconfirmed reports were popping up on social media. "This craziest animal in Red Hook." "Did anyone else see that wolf? Thing was the size of a car!" "Power out on 3rd Ave after something tore down a light pole."
Hearts racing. Red Hook. That's where Damien's abandoned warehouse was. He hadn't left the city; he hadn't gone upstate. The reports were tracking a path of destruction moving steadily north. Moving in her direction. Panic, sharp and cold, gripped her. This wasn't a man going crazy. This was something else. Something real and tangible and violent, and it was carving a path through the city toward her. Closer, louder grew the sounds. The screech of a car alarm on her block blared to life, then was silenced again by a horrifying crunch of tearing metal. A heavy thud shook her building as the large dumpster in the alley was overturned. And then… silence again. A heavy, listening silence. Selena backed away from the window, her body trembling uncontrollably. A low guttural growl rumbled from the street below, a sound so deep it vibrated through the soles of her feet. It was followed by a loud, wet sniffing sound. It was hunting. It was hunting for her. The loud crack came from downstairs as the heavy front door of the apartment building splintered and burst open. It was undoubtedly inside now. Claws, heavy and sharp, scraped against the tiled lobby floor. Then they found the stairs. Scrape. Thud. Scrape. Thud. Steady terrifying rhythm ascending. Closer. She backed away from her apartment door until she hit the far wall, a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle a scream. The footsteps stopped. They were right outside her door. A low, possessive whine seeped through the wood, desperate, terrifying recognition. Then came the scratching. Heavy, deliberate claws dragging down the wood of her door, leaving deep gouges in the paint. The monster was here. And it wanted in.