Empire of the howling moon

Chapter 3

Stewart took a taxi home, afraid to drive in his current state. Everything felt too sharp, too intense. The driver's cheap cologne made his eyes water. He could hear the man's phone conversation through his earbuds, every word crystal clear. When they passed a restaurant, the smell of cooking meat made Stewart's mouth water with a hunger that felt almost violent.

Claire was feeding the baby when he walked in. She looked up, and something in her expression changed. "You look different."

"Good meeting." Stewart set his jacket on the chair. "Really good. Rowan came through. The job is real."

"What kind of job?"

"Security. Asset management. He's drawing up contracts." The lies came easily. Too easily. "It's six figures, Claire. Six figures with benefits and bonuses."

She set down the bottle. The baby fussed. Claire ignored it, standing slowly. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. He needs people he can trust."

"Stewart." She crossed to him, took his hands. "Look at me. What aren't you telling me?"

He met her eyes and nearly broke. Tell her, part of him screamed. Tell her everything. But Rowan's threat echoed in his mind. If you leave pack territory without permission, the consequences will be severe.

"I'm telling you we're going to be okay," Stewart said instead. "For the first time in years, we're actually going to be okay."

Claire studied him for a long moment. Then she kissed him, soft and desperate. "I've been so scared."

"I know. Me too."

That night, Stewart couldn't sleep. The house felt too small, too confining. Every sound amplified. Danny's breathing in the next room. Claire's heartbeat beside him. The rustle of mice in the walls that he'd never noticed before. At three in the morning, he gave up and went to the backyard.

The moon hung fat and heavy in the sky, two days from full. Stewart stared at it and felt something stir inside him. Something hungry. Something wild. His hands clenched into fists and for a moment, just a moment, he saw claws instead of fingernails.

"Easy now."

Stewart spun. A woman stood in his yard, seemingly materialized from shadows. She was tall, athletic, with dark skin and close-cropped hair. Her eyes caught the moonlight like an animal's.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Marlene Chen. Second in the pack. Rowan sent me to check on you." She moved closer, circling him like she was assessing prey. "First night is always hardest. The wolf is close to the surface. Curious. Hungry."

"I don't want this."

"Nobody asks for it. But you took the offer, didn't you? You accepted the deal." Marlene stopped in front of him. "Now you live with the consequences. Or die with them. Your choice."

"Why are you really here?"

"To make sure you don't do anything stupid. Like try to run. Or tell your pretty wife the truth." She smiled, showing teeth that seemed too sharp. "Rowan has plans for you, Stewart. Big plans. You were chosen specifically. Did you think it was coincidence he found you now? Called you when you were at your lowest?"

"He said we were friends."

"You were prey. Perfect prey. Desperate enough to say yes, strong enough to survive the change, stubborn enough to be useful." Marlene pulled out a phone, tapped something. "The pack meets in twenty hours. Warehouse district, building 47. Be there by sunset or we come for you. And trust me, you don't want us coming for you."

She turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. You feel strong now? Fast? Powerful? That's nothing compared to what's coming. Three days until your first transformation. Three days until you become what you're meant to be. Use that time wisely. Learn the rules. Accept your place. Because once that moon rises, there's no going back."

Marlene vanished into the darkness, moving with impossible speed. Stewart stood alone in his yard, hands shaking, wondering what he'd become.

The next morning, a package arrived. Inside was a contract, professionally printed and bound. Stewart read it in his car, afraid to bring it inside. The terms were generous. Obscenely generous. Six figures to start, escalating bonuses, full medical coverage, housing allowance. But buried in the legal language was a clause that made his blood run cold.

"Employee acknowledges and accepts that termination of employment may result in termination of life. Employee agrees to maintain absolute confidentiality regarding business operations under penalty of death. Employee submits to pack law and pack hierarchy as binding and absolute."

His phone rang. Rowan.

"Did you get the contract?"

"What is this? Termination of life? Penalty of death?"

"Standard language for our organization. You're part of something bigger now, Stewart. Something that's existed for thousands of years. We have rules. Laws. Break them and there are consequences." Rowan's voice was calm, almost soothing. "But follow them, embrace what you are, and I promise you'll never want for anything again."

"I could go to the police."

"And tell them what? That your billionaire childhood friend turned you into a werewolf? They'd lock you up for a psych evaluation. And while you were sitting in a hospital somewhere, pumped full of sedatives, the pack would be visiting your family."

Stewart closed his eyes. Trapped. He was completely trapped.

"I'll be at the meeting tonight."

"I knew you would. Pack takes care of its own brother. Remember that."

The line went dead. Stewart sat in his car, contract in his lap, and felt the thing inside him stir again. The wolf. His wolf. It wasn't afraid. It was eager. Ready. Hungry for what came next.

And that terrified him more than anything else.