Chapter 2 2

Angela's legs burned with exhaustion as she half-carried Raymond through the empty streets. Every step felt like a marathon, his weight leaning heavily on her shoulders. The rain had turned to a steady downpour, soaking them both until their clothes clung to their bodies. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sharp angles of Raymond's face- pale but determined. As they reached an intersection, Raymond groaned and staggered, nearly pulling Angela down with him.

"Raymond!" she gasped, tightening her grip. She braced him against a lamppost, scanning his face. His eyes fluttered, gold irises dimming, but he forced himself to focus on her.

"Almost... there," he rasped. "Keep moving."

A black SUV turned the corner ahead, headlights sweeping across them like searchlights. Angela's heart leapt to her throat. The vehicle slowed, creeping forward. Raymond growled low in his chest, the sound reverberating against her ribs.

"We can't be seen," he whispered, his voice hoarse but fierce.

Angela's eyes darted across the street. An iron gate stood ajar, leading into the side entrance of a towering, half-renovated hotel. Without hesitation, she hauled Raymond toward it, slipping them into the shadows just as the SUV cruised past. From their hiding place, she caught a glimpse of the driver: a pale man with red eyes scanning the sidewalk like a predator.

Nightfangs.

She waited until the vehicle vanished into the rain before releasing a shaky breath. Raymond slumped heavily against her, his eyes closing. She shook him gently.

"No, no, you're not passing out on me now," she said urgently. "Stay awake."

His eyes cracked open. "You're... stubborn."

"And you're bleeding all over my favorite hoodie," she shot back, a hint of desperate humor in her voice. She adjusted his arm around her shoulders and helped him through the crumbling halls of the abandoned hotel.

They climbed a narrow stairwell, each step a struggle. Angela felt the tremor in Raymond's muscles, the effort it took for him to keep going. His breathing was ragged, hot puffs of air against her ear. By the time they reached the fifth floor, both of them were gasping.

She pushed open a rusted door, revealing a long-forgotten ballroom filled with broken chairs and shattered chandeliers. Rain blew in through broken windows, drenching the rotting carpet. Angela lowered Raymond to the floor near the far wall, where they were shielded from the wind.

"Rest," she said, brushing wet hair from his forehead. "I'll check your wounds."

He caught her wrist. His touch was warm, but his eyes were colder than steel. "They won't stop, Angela. The Nightfangs. They'll come for you now."

She swallowed hard, her pulse racing at the fear in his voice. "Then you'll just have to make sure they don't get me."

He managed a pained laugh. "You don't understand. They're not like me. They don't have rules. They kill anyone in their way."

Angela's hands worked as they spoke, checking his side where a deep gash oozed blood despite the earlier healing. She tore another strip from her undershirt, binding the wound tightly.

"Then we'll need a plan," she said firmly.

Outside, thunder boomed so loud it rattled the cracked windows. Lightning lit the ballroom in ghostly flashes, revealing the feral gleam in Raymond's eyes each time. The air smelled of mildew and old memories.

"I need to get you to your penthouse," Angela continued, tying off the bandage. "How do we get there without drawing attention?"

Raymond closed his eyes, breathing shallowly. "The tunnels... below the city. Old smuggling routes. They lead to Blackwood Tower."

"Tunnels?" Angela echoed. "How do we get to them from here?"

He lifted a trembling hand, pointing at a trapdoor half-hidden beneath a pile of splintered chairs. She hurried over, clearing debris until the door creaked open, revealing stone steps spiraling into darkness.

She glanced back at him. "Can you move?"

Raymond shifted, his jaw clenched. His eyes glowed brighter as he tapped into a well of stubborn strength. Slowly, with her help, he rose to his feet.

They descended into the tunnels, the scent of damp earth filling Angela's lungs. Each step echoed with ominous finality, the darkness swallowing them whole. The further they went, the quieter the city above became, until only their breathing and the drip of water from the ceiling filled the silence.

The tunnels stretched on like a labyrinth, branching into countless passages. Angela stuck close to Raymond, her phone's flashlight cutting a narrow cone of light ahead of them. Shapes loomed on the walls: old symbols etched in stone, graffiti, and signs of ancient battles-deep claw marks and splashes of dried blood.

"How old are these tunnels?" Angela whispered, her voice hushed by the oppressive darkness.

"Older than Silverhaven itself," Raymond replied, his voice steadier now. "They were built when the city was a port for smugglers and pirates. Now... they're ours."

"Ours?"

"The Pride Pack," he explained. "We've used these tunnels for generations. Safe passages. Escape routes."

Angela studied him as they walked. His eyes were alert, scanning every shadow. Even wounded, he exuded a dangerous grace-a predator in human skin. Yet there was a vulnerability there too, just beneath the surface, and it called to her.

Suddenly, Raymond's arm shot out, halting her. She froze, following his gaze. Up ahead, faint red lights glowed in the darkness-eyes.

"Nightfang scouts," Raymond hissed, voice low.

Angela's breath caught as shapes emerged from the shadows: three figures in dark clothes, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. One sniffed the air, lips curling into a vicious smile.

"They're here," he growled.

Before Angela could react, the Nightfangs charged. Raymond pushed her behind him, his body shifting with a sickening crack of bones. Fur rippled across his back as he grew into his massive wolf form, black as the tunnels themselves.

The first Nightfang lunged with a silver dagger, but Raymond caught his wrist in powerful jaws, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. The second slashed at his flank, but Raymond pivoted, claws flashing. The Nightfang screamed as blood splattered the walls.

Angela ducked behind a pillar, heart pounding. She knew she should stay hidden, but instinct screamed to help. Her eyes landed on a loose pipe on the ground. She grabbed it, stepping into the fight just as the third Nightfang lunged for Raymond's exposed back.

With a cry, Angela swung the pipe with all her strength, connecting with the Nightfang's skull. The attacker staggered, dazed, just long enough for Raymond to whirl around and tear into him with lethal precision.

The tunnel fell silent. The Nightfangs lay still, their blood dark on the stones. Raymond shifted back into his human form, chest heaving, eyes blazing.

Angela dropped the pipe, trembling. "You... you're insane," she gasped.

Raymond's lips twitched in a grim smile. "You're the one who jumped into a werewolf fight with a pipe."

She stepped closer, wiping blood from his cheek with shaking hands. "And you're the one bleeding all over the place again."

His eyes softened, golden gaze locking onto hers. "I told you to run."

She swallowed, voice hoarse. "And I told you I'm not leaving you."

They continued deeper into the tunnels, moving quickly now. Raymond led her through twists and turns until a metal ladder rose before them, disappearing into darkness above.

"This leads to the basement of Blackwood Tower," he said, voice tight.

She helped him climb, adrenaline lending her strength. At the top, they pushed through a rusted grate, emerging into a massive underground garage beneath the tower. Angela's eyes widened at the rows of luxury cars gleaming under cold fluorescent lights.

Raymond staggered to a security panel on the far wall. He placed his hand on the scanner; a green light blinked. A hidden door slid open, revealing a private elevator.

"Come on," he urged.

They stepped inside. The doors sealed with a soft hiss, and the elevator began its smooth ascent. Angela leaned against the mirrored wall, her heart pounding in her chest.

As they rose, she caught glimpses of Raymond's reflection: pale, bruised, but impossibly strong. His eyes met hers in the glass, and something passed between them- an unspoken promise.

The doors opened into a stunning penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Silverhaven skyline, lights glittering like fallen stars. Sleek modern furniture filled the space, but Angela barely noticed. She guided Raymond to a leather sofa, lowering him carefully.

He slumped back, breath ragged. "You should... leave. You've done enough."

Angela shook her head, moving to the kitchen. She rummaged through cabinets until she found towels and a first-aid kit. "Not a chance."

She returned, kneeling beside him. Her hands worked efficiently, cleaning new wounds, rewrapping old ones. His eyes never left her face.

"You don't understand," he said quietly. "By helping me, you've marked yourself. The Nightfangs will come for you now. They won't stop."

"Then we'll stop them first," she shot back, her voice steel.

He chuckled weakly. "You're reckless."

"And you're stubborn," she retorted. She paused, meeting his gaze. "Why are they hunting you?"

Raymond's eyes darkened. "A prophecy. An old curse on my bloodline. It says the Alpha of the Pride Pack will doom us all under the Blood Moon... unless he's killed first."

"And you think... you're that Alpha?"

He looked away, jaw tight. "I know I am."

Angela stood, pacing. "So they want you dead to break the curse."

"Or to fulfill it," Raymond added bitterly. "Some believe killing me will end the Pride Pack entirely-clear the way for the Nightfangs to rule Silverhaven."

Angela's mind reeled. She sank into a chair across from him, staring into his eyes. "What about you? What do you want?"

His golden gaze locked onto hers, raw and fierce. "To live," he whispered. "To protect my pack. To find... something worth fighting for."

Suddenly, alarms blared through the penthouse. Red lights pulsed along the walls. Raymond surged upright, eyes glowing gold.

"They're here," he snarled.

Angela ran to the window. Dark shapes were scaling the outside of the building-figures moving with unnatural speed. Helicopter rotors thundered overhead, spotlights sweeping the tower.

Raymond grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "We have to go."

He led her through the penthouse to a hidden door behind a bookshelf. Inside was an armory: rifles, silver-edged knives, and boxes of ammunition lined the walls. Raymond tossed her a small pistol, his eyes grim.

"Do you know how to use it?"

Angela checked the slide, flicking the safety. "I was a cop before I was a nurse."

He blinked, then cracked a fierce, appreciative smile. "Good."

Outside, glass shattered as Nightfangs burst through the penthouse windows. Raymond shifted mid-run, a blur of black fur crashing into the attackers. Angela dropped to one knee, firing at the Nightfang closest to her. The bullet sparked against his blade, but the second shot caught him in the leg, sending him sprawling.

The fight was chaos: claws slashing, bullets firing, furniture splintering. Angela kept moving, ducking behind counters and firing at any red-eyed figure that got too close. Raymond moved like a storm, tearing through Nightfangs with terrifying precision.

Finally, silence fell over the ruined penthouse. Angela stood, breathing hard, gun trembling in her hand. Broken glass crunched beneath her boots as she crossed to Raymond. He shifted back, bloodied but alive. They looked at each other, city lights flickering around them like dying stars.

"You saved me," he said quietly, voice raw.

Angela stepped close, brushing blood from his cheek. "We saved each other."