The night had teeth.
Wind hissed through the shattered windows of the train station like something alive, carrying the acrid scent of ash and wet metal. Somewhere far off, a building groaned as it collapsed into itself. The survivors stirred uneasily in their sleep, but Ethan lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling above him.
The Core wouldn't stop whispering.
Predator. Alpha. Hunger.
Every breath he took tasted like iron.
He sat up, rubbing his palms over his face until sparks of pain blinked behind his eyelids. Selene had posted herself on watch just beyond the entrance, her silhouette framed by the glow of dying fires. She was still, but not relaxed; one hand rested on her blade, the other on the gun slung across her shoulder.
Ethan found himself watching her through the haze of his exhaustion. The way her eyes swept the shadows. The way her muscles tensed at every faint sound. She looked like a painting of vigilance, untouchable and sharp-edged.
You want her, the Core murmured, curling in his chest like smoke. You want to taste her strength. Take. Claim. Feed.
He clenched his jaw until it ached. "Shut up," he hissed under his breath.
Selene turned, the movement so smooth he almost didn't catch it. "You hear it again?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "It's worse at night."
She rose and crossed to him, boots soundless on the cracked tile. Up close, the firelight picked out the small scars scattered across her skin. She crouched. "Stay awake if you can," she murmured. "I don't like the air tonight."
"Something coming?"
Her eyes flicked to the dark beyond the station doors. "I've felt eyes on us for hours."
Ethan's pulse climbed. He knew she wasn't talking about mutants. Mutants didn't watch. Mutants rushed.
The Core stirred. Blood incoming. Hunt incoming. Feed incoming.
He gritted his teeth. "Who?"
"Hunters," Selene said. "Not mine. Not yours. Someone new."
Almost on cue, a sound broke through the night—a faint, metallic click, then another. A pattern, deliberate, circling. Selene drew her blade in a slow arc.
"Stay behind me," she whispered.
But the Core had already ignited, a burning coil of anticipation in Ethan's chest. He rose, hands trembling. "No," he said, voice low. "They're here for me."
The first arrow hit the wall a foot from his head, exploding into a burst of blue sparks. The survivors screamed. Selene grabbed Ethan by the collar and yanked him down behind a row of toppled benches just as a second arrow streaked through, slicing the air where he had been standing.
Four figures emerged from the shadows of the street outside, faces hidden behind bone-white masks etched with crimson sigils. Their movements were precise, almost ritualistic. They didn't speak.
Hunters, the Core whispered. Prey. Yours.
Ethan's breath came hard and fast. His fingers dug into the cracked tile. He could feel the threads binding him to the survivors tugging at his chest, thin and panicked.
Selene's voice cut through the noise. "They want you alive. That's why they're using net-shocks instead of bullets."
Ethan looked at her. "How do you know?"
"Because that's what I'd do," she said grimly.
The hunters moved closer. Selene flicked a glance at him. "When I say run—"
"I'm not running." The words tore out of him before he could think.
Selene's eyes flashed. "Ethan—"
The Core pulsed, molten under his skin. He felt his heartbeat shift, sync with something deeper, darker. The air around him thickened, almost humming.
You are not prey. You are the hunt.
The first hunter lunged forward, a curved blade sparking with blue energy. Selene met him head-on, steel against steel, sparks cascading like fireflies. The others fanned out, one angling toward the survivors, two toward Ethan.
His body moved before his mind did. He caught the wrist of the nearest hunter as the man thrust a needle-syringe toward his neck. With a sick crack, Ethan twisted, and the hunter's arm bent the wrong way. The man didn't cry out—he just slashed with his free hand.
Ethan's palm came away wet. The smell of blood hit him like a drug. The Core howled in his veins.
Selene was a blur, cutting down one attacker with ruthless precision. "Ethan!" she shouted. "Stay with me!"
But he couldn't. Not fully. The whispers had become a roar. Every nerve in his body was alive with hunger, his vision rimmed in red. He slammed the hunter to the ground and drove his fist into the man's chest until he felt something break.
The Core shivered in ecstasy. Yes. Feed.
Ethan staggered back, gasping. "No… I'm not—"
A net crackled toward him from the side. Selene shoved him hard, taking the hit herself. The shock lit her body in electric arcs as she fell, teeth clenched against a scream.
"Selene!"
Another hunter lunged for her, blade raised. Ethan didn't think. He moved. The Core surged, and for an instant he wasn't sure if he was saving her or surrendering to himself. His hand closed around the attacker's throat, and crimson light flared between his fingers.
The hunter convulsed. The smell of burning blood filled the air.
Selene tore the net from herself, eyes wide, watching him. "Ethan," she whispered.
He released the body, trembling, breath ragged. The last two hunters hesitated, then retreated into the shadows without a word, dragging the wounded with them.
Silence crashed down.
Ethan's hands shook violently. His pulse thundered. He could feel the Core inside him, purring like a beast fed.
Selene pushed herself to her knees, still breathing hard from the shock. "You're bleeding," she said softly.
"I—" He looked at his hands. Blood. Sparks of crimson light fading. "I didn't mean—"
Her gaze was unreadable. "They'll be back," she said finally. "Stronger. Smarter. And next time they won't underestimate you."
He met her eyes, something like shame clawing up his throat. "What's happening to me?"
Selene reached out, hesitated, then touched his wrist—lightly, briefly. "Exactly what I warned you about," she said. "The Core doesn't just whisper. It takes."
She stood, turning toward the darkened street. "Get some sleep if you can. We move at dawn."
Ethan stayed where he was, staring at the blood on his hands until it blurred. For the first time, he wasn't sure which terrified him more: the hunters who wanted him alive, or the thing inside him that wanted them dead.
Ethan stayed crouched behind the benches, his breath rasping loud in the hollow station. The survivors had huddled together near the back, faces pale, eyes darting from him to the door as if unsure which was the bigger danger. No one spoke.
The Core purred in his chest, slow and satisfied now, like an animal licking its claws. It wanted to sink deeper. It wanted him to stop fighting.
Selene wiped a smear of blood from her jaw with the back of her glove. Even in the dim light, her expression was hard to read—half shadow, half firelight. She wasn't looking at him; she was scanning the street, the rooftops, every window. Only when she seemed sure the hunters were gone did she lower her blade.
"Ethan," she said quietly. Not a question, not an order. Just his name.
He forced himself to meet her eyes. "I lost control."
"You didn't lose it," she replied without looking away. "You gave it permission. There's a difference."
He flinched. "I didn't want—"
"I know." Her voice softened for a heartbeat, then turned flat again. "But the Core doesn't care what you want. It only cares about what you'll let it do."
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching on dried blood. "They were going to take me. They would have killed you."
"And you saved me." She sheathed her blade with a click. "But you also showed them exactly what you are becoming."
The words landed heavy. Ethan looked toward the survivors; one woman clutched her child tighter when his gaze brushed hers. He dropped his eyes to the floor.
Selene slung her rifle over her shoulder. "They won't stop. Tonight was a test run. Next time they'll bring nets that bite harder and blades dipped in things you don't want inside you." She tilted her head toward the back of the station. "Help me move the survivors. We can't stay here."
He didn't move. "You're not afraid of me?" The question left him before he could swallow it.
For a long moment, Selene didn't answer. Then she crouched in front of him, close enough that he could smell the faint ozone of burned netting on her coat. "I'm afraid of a lot of things," she said. "But fear and usefulness can live in the same place. Right now, you're still you. Stay that way."
Her eyes held his—grey, unreadable, but not entirely cold. She stood and turned away. "Come on. Dawn's in a few hours."
Ethan pushed himself to his feet, the Core shifting uneasily inside him like something caged. He wanted to tell her everything—how the whispers weren't just words anymore but pictures, flashes of blood and teeth, how every time he fought he could feel himself slipping further.
But Selene was already moving, calling softly to the survivors, guiding them to gather their things. He watched her for a moment, then flexed his fingers. The dried blood cracked like old paint. Underneath, faint lines of crimson light pulsed once, then dimmed.
He closed his fists to hide it.
Somewhere out in the ruined city, a hunter's horn sounded—a long, low note that made the survivors stiffen and glance at the doors. Selene's head turned sharply toward the sound. She met Ethan's eyes across the room.
"They're marking us," she said. "They know exactly where we're going."
Ethan felt the Core stir, whispering hunger into his ear again. He swallowed it down and nodded. "Then let's make sure they regret following."
Selene gave a thin, wolfish smile—whether at him or at the hunters, he couldn't tell. "Move," she ordered, and the group began to slip into the pre-dawn shadows of the city.
Behind them, the train station stood empty, streaked with blood and burnt ozone, echoing with the memory of the fight. Above, the wind hissed through shattered glass, carrying the scent of ash and iron.
Ethan tightened his coat, keeping to Selene's shoulder. The Core's whispers rose and fell with his heartbeat, a promise and a threat tangled together.
He had the sudden, chilling certainty that the night's attack was only the beginning.