The pain throbbed in rhythm with the city's distant rumble. Harry gripped the dirty cloth against his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The wound from the fight at Victor Thorne's charity gala was still gaping, sending sharp stings with every movement. The scent of cheap disinfectant mixed with the room's musty odor, making his head spin. Arthur sat across from him, treating the injury with an unexpected professional care for someone so old."Keep still, kid," Arthur grumbled, his eyes sharp behind thick lenses. "You're squirming like you're on fire."Harry snorted, cold sweat beading on his temples. "Squirmy things aren't wanted by the whole city, Arthur. Squirmy things don't have..." he hesitated, "identity issues like I do."Arthur simply sighed, applying a fresh bandage. "Identity problems, you say? You saved dozens of people from a psychopath who nearly sacrificed them. This city owes you, even if they're too damn stupid to realize it.""They see a monster, Arthur. The

Harry stared at the door Clara had just closed, as if her shadow still clung to it. The silence of the shack felt heavier now, filled with unanswered questions and an unseen threat. Arthur sat quietly at the table, his eyes on an empty plate, allowing Harry to drown in his own thoughts. Harry felt a cold lump in his stomach, not just from his physical injuries, but from the weight of the promise he had just made. Protect them. Fight the shadows. He wanted to act immediately, to roar and hunt, but Arthur taught patience."Sit down, kid," Arthur broke the silence, his voice hoarse. "Anger won't help you think. We have time, for now."Harry sighed, forcing himself to sit back down. The smell of disinfectant and the room's dampness stung his senses. He looked at the stack of newspapers on the table, which no longer contained only sensational news about himself, but also drier reports detailing the arrests of Victor Thorne's men. Arthur had collected them from various sources, including Cl

The long, piercing howl that cut through the night still echoed in Clara's mind, hours later. It wasn't a sound of fear; it was a declaration. A burning promise from Harry to embrace what he truly was. While Harry struggled in the old, hidden warehouse, Clara returned to the city's hustle, back to the newsroom where rumors and facts intertwined. She had to continue her investigation, even knowing every step was now fraught with risk.The cold, damp night air bit at her skin as Clara left the editorial building. It was well past midnight, and the streets were starting to empty, punctuated only by the dim glow of streetlights and the occasional passing car. She pulled her jacket tighter, her breath fogging in thin wisps in the air. The additional report on Victor Thorne's cult was on the editor's desk, and Clara hoped it was enough to divert attention from the "wolf phenomenon" that had become public fodder.As she walked through the narrow alleys she knew by heart, something felt off.

Harry felt a shudder in his chest. The symbol seemed to flicker, calling to him, tempting him with secret promises and a deeper truth. The Veil. They had been watching. They had known. And now, he was going to find out about them."So, you really never told me about this, Arthur?" Harry asked, his voice still laced with disbelief. He rubbed the hidden single-eye carving on the hut wall, the cold stone biting into his skin. The scent of old dust mixed with a faint smell of rust, making their hideout feel like a time capsule storing many secrets.Arthur sighed, settling back in his rickety chair. "I didn't hide it to make you suffer, kid. I just wanted to protect you. The world I know... it's not the world you want. Power can corrupt a person's soul. I've seen it." His old eyes stared into the distance, at shadows of the past only he could see.Clara entered shortly after, carrying a stack of documents and her worn-out laptop. Her face was serious, her lips pursed. She looked at the sym

Harry stumbled, falling to his knees in the bushes. The cold night air held him tight, but that wasn't what froze his blood. It wasn't the sedative poison still gnawing at his muscles, nor the stinging cuts from barbed wire and shards of glass that now throbbed. What froze him were Marcus's last words, echoing in his head like a death knell: Mentor knows everything about you. He will come. A deeply personal threat, promising an inevitable confrontation. And Harry, for the first time, felt completely vulnerable.He didn't remember how he made it back to Arthur's cabin. Just running. Fleeing blindly through the dark forest, the sound of sirens and searchlights from The Veil clinic chasing him like ghosts. When consciousness returned, he was already lying on his rickety bed, Arthur calmly cleaning his wounds while Clara wiped the cold sweat from his forehead."You're bleeding," Clara whispered, her voice filled with almost unbearable worry. Her fingers felt cold on Harry's skin. "What ha