Harry slipped out of the upscale neighborhood, the paper with "The Silver Fox" address feeling hot against his pocket. Night had completely enveloped the city, providing the anonymity he desperately needed. After the trauma at the harbor and his encounter with Marcus, he couldn't return to Arthur. He had to move quickly and alone, carrying all the information he had gathered: The heirloom necklace, a planned murder, and the name of the mafia, The Black Hand.The Old District, where the bar was located, was the complete opposite of Mrs. Gable's luxurious neighborhood. The air was heavy with the smell of stale, dried seawater, cheap alcohol, and foul tobacco. The streets were narrow, winding, and dimly lit by flickering streetlights. Harry let his wolf senses take over, suppressing the urge to growl, and instead focused on listening.Two blocks before reaching the specified address, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. The energy in the air changed from chaotic disorder to organized tensi

Harry took a sharp breath, the scent of church dust and receding police sirens filling his lungs. The figure in the doorway had disappeared, and the wooden box and black scarf now felt heavy in his hands."Arthur!" Harry yelled, his voice returning to a wolf's hoarse growl, overcoming the pain in his chest. He had to go back to his mentor. He couldn't leave Arthur alone in their warehouse.He bolted out of the church, his heart pounding not only because of the police who might arrive, but because of the terror of 'The Mentor's' calm voice.Harry ran across the city streets, now illuminated by floodlights. He moved away from the area he had just left, returning to the industrial district where he worked. He had to be fast. If Arthur was scared after seeing his power on the docks, he might already be gone.When Harry arrived at the warehouse near the fish market, he was out of breath. The warehouse was dark, but Arthur wasn't there. There was only a burlap sack he had left behind, and o

Harry felt his shoulder burn, but he didn't stop running. The sight of Alpha in the distance—a wolf silhouette among the containers—and the roar of the car chasing him had triggered his final defenses. He let his wolf speed pull him out of the harbor danger zone, toward the busier district where the crowd would be his best shield.After running for what felt like forever, with his own blood staining his secondhand clothes, he managed to slip onto a busy tram line, blending in with the city residents hurrying home from work. The police sirens had faded, but he knew the Black Hand wouldn't retreat just because a bullet missed."They know I have the key," Harry muttered to himself, feeling his backpack. The wooden box and the drawer key now felt like a burning burden. He needed to find Arthur immediately, then Clara. He needed allies who weren't controlled by Thorne or The Mentor.Over the next few days, Harry lived in full surveillance mode. He didn't return to Arthur's warehouse, afrai

The Unmasking at City HallHarry felt the bite of the marble floor through his service boots, which were far too thin for the cold. The Mentor’s voice—a sound more terrifying than a wolf’s howl in a blizzard—still echoed in his ears. He felt dozens of eyes locking onto him, but more importantly, he sensed the organized movement of Thorne’s guards closing off every exit."Clara, I have to go! They’re moving!" Harry whispered into his earpiece, but there was no response; the comms line was dead, severed by Thorne’s signal jammers.Harry didn't have time to play the nervous waiter anymore. The self-control he had fought so hard to maintain amid the luxury vanished. He felt a familiar heat—the promise of a total transformation—but the unhealed gunshot wound in his left shoulder flared with sharp pain, acting as a tether. Not now. I need speed, not the full form.He backed away, trying to reach the emergency exit Clara had pointed out, but Marcus had already cut him off. Marcus, looking fa

Harry felt his blood pumping hard, not only from the gunshot wound in his left shoulder but also from a cold, urgent fear. He was thrown from the City Hall roof onto the service building below, a leap that should have been impossible. Across the street, on the opposing building's roof, he saw Clara aiming her camera, and beside her, the silhouettes of Thorne and his still-organized guards."Clara! Get out!" Harry roared, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible amidst the deafening sirens from below.Harry knew he couldn't stay here. If he waited, the police, who were clearly under Thorne's control, would quickly find him at this altitude. He had to descend, get away from the crowds, and find an isolated place to hide.He immediately ran across the row of flat rooftops, using every shadow for cover. The wound on his shoulder bothered him, but his wolf instinct took over, ignoring the pain for survival. He moved at high speed, far above normal human capability, a demonstration of wild str