Empire of the howling moon

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The next morning, Stewart found Victor Strand's business card while getting dressed. He stared at it, remembering the hunter's words. *When you realize what Rowan really is, call me.*

He pocketed the card before Claire could see it.

Work started immediately. Rowan had assignments—collecting debts from businesses behind on protection payments, intimidating witnesses in a property dispute, standing silent and threatening during meetings. Stewart was becoming exactly what Rowan wanted: an enforcer. A weapon.

The worst part was how good he was at it. The wolf made him naturally intimidating. His enhanced senses let him read fear, detect lies. People broke under his stare. Signed contracts. Paid money they didn't have. All because Stewart Lennox stood in the room radiating barely contained violence.

By Thursday, he'd helped ruin three lives. A restaurant owner forced to sell at below value. A witness who suddenly couldn't remember what he'd seen. A tenant family, evicted into the street. Gabriel praised his efficiency. Marlene called him a natural.

Stewart felt like he was drowning.

Friday night, Rowan called a pack meeting. Everyone gathered at the warehouse, tension thick enough to cut. Three members had been hospitalized after a Northside ambush. Retaliation was demanded.

"We hit them tomorrow," Rowan announced. "Their distribution center on the docks. Burn it. Make it clear that our territory is ours."

Cheers erupted. Stewart felt sick.

"I need volunteers for the strike team," Rowan continued. His eyes found Stewart. "Fresh blood should prove themselves."

It wasn't a request. Stewart raised his hand with five others. They were briefed on the plan—simple, brutal, designed to send a message. No killing unless necessary, but intimidation was mandatory. Break things. Break people if they resisted. Show strength.

After the meeting, Julia pulled Stewart aside. "This is your out."

"What?"

"You're going on a raid. Away from the pack. If you wanted to run, this would be the time." She pressed something into his hand. An address. "Sarah's place. You could disappear."

"They'd come after Claire and the kids."

"Sarah has connections. People who help wolves escape. She could get your family out too." Julia's eyes were desperate. "You've seen what this life is now. It only gets worse. Violence breeds violence. Eventually, you'll kill someone who doesn't deserve it. Can you live with that?"

Stewart looked at the address. Montana. Freedom. Escape.

But also uncertainty. Danger. Running forever.

"I need time to think."

"You don't have time. Tomorrow night, you help Rowan commit arson. After that, you're complicit. After that, leaving becomes harder." Julia squeezed his arm. "I'm telling you this because I see myself in you. Trapped. Compromised. Five years ago, I could have run. Now I'm too deep. Don't make my mistake."

She left him with the address burning in his pocket and impossible choices churning in his mind.

At home, Claire was putting the kids to bed. Stewart watched from the doorway—Danny's stories about kindergarten, Emma's babbling laughter, Claire's patient love. His family. His reason for everything.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number. Against his better judgment, he answered.

"Stewart Lennox?" Victor Strand's voice. "We need to talk. Now."

"How did you—"

"I've been watching. I know about the raid tomorrow. I know Rowan's planning to escalate with Sienna's pack." Strand spoke quickly, urgently. "This is your chance. Help me stop it and I can protect your family."

"By doing what?"

"Meet me. Midnight. The coffee shop on Brennan Street. Come alone." Strand paused. "Or don't come, and watch your new pack burn this city down around you."

The line went dead. Stewart stood frozen. Julia offering escape. Strand offering redemption. Rowan demanding loyalty. Claire deserving truth.

Too many choices. All of them wrong.

He deleted Strand's number from his call history and went to sit with his family. Danny climbed into his lap, warm and trusting.

"Daddy, why do you smell different?"

Stewart's heart stopped. "What?"

"Like... like the woods. Like camping." Danny's innocent observation cut deeper than any accusation. "Are you going camping?"

"Something like that, buddy."

Claire appeared in the doorway, listening. Her expression was unreadable. How much had she heard? How much did she suspect?

After the kids were asleep, she confronted him directly. "Who was on the phone?"

"Work."

"It's always work now." Claire's voice was controlled, but Stewart could smell her fear, her anger, her hurt. "You're slipping away from us. Every day, you're a little less the man I married."

"I'm trying to provide—"

"I don't care about the money!" Her composure cracked. "I care about you. About us. And something is wrong. Something more than just a new job."

Stewart wanted to tell her. Wanted to confess everything. But the words wouldn't come. The blood oath held his tongue, and fear held his heart.

"I have to go out," he said instead.

"Now? It's almost midnight."

"I'm sorry."

He left Claire standing in their bedroom, tears on her face, their marriage crumbling. The hunter was waiting. Choices had to be made.

Stewart drove to Brennan Street, watching for tails. The pack would be monitoring him, testing his loyalty. But his countersurveillance training from his warehouse security days still worked. He lost two potential followers and arrived at the coffee shop alone.

Strand sat in a back booth, looking tired. Military bearing, hard eyes, the weight of too many battles. He gestured for Stewart to sit.

"Thank you for coming."

"I haven't agreed to anything."

"But you're here. That's enough." Strand pushed a folder across the table. "Rowan Ashford. Real name: Rowan Ashford. Age: appears forty, actually closer to three hundred. He's built his empire on turning desperate people into weapons. You're number forty-seven."

Stewart opened the folder. Photos. Documents. A list of names with dates. Some marked deceased. Most marked missing. His hands shook.

"What do you want from me?"

"Information. Testimony. Evidence." Strand leaned forward. "Help me bring him down, and I'll make sure your family is protected. There are places wolves can go. Sanctuaries. You could have a life."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then tomorrow you help burn down a building. Maybe someone dies. Maybe you're the one who kills them. And every day after, it gets easier. Until you're like Gabriel—dead inside, just going through motions." Strand's voice softened. "I've seen it happen dozens of times. Good people, turned into monsters, losing themselves piece by piece. Don't let that be you."

Stewart looked at the photos. Faces of people like him. Desperate. Trapped. Gone.

"I need time."

"You have until tomorrow night. After the raid, Rowan will own you completely." Strand wrote a number on a napkin. "Call me. Please."

Stewart took the napkin and left. But he didn't go home. Instead, he drove to the preserve, parking at the entrance. The guard recognized him, waved him through. He walked into the forest where he'd first hunted, where the wolf had tasted blood.

Under the trees, he let the wolf emerge partially. Claws. Fangs. Enhanced senses. Strength without full transformation. He was getting better at control, at balancing both natures.

And that terrified him. Because it meant he was adapting. Accepting. Becoming what Rowan wanted.

His phone rang. Claire.

"Where are you?"

"I needed air."

"Stewart, I can't do this anymore. The secrets. The distance." Her voice broke. "Come home. Talk to me. Or don't come home at all."

The ultimatum hung between them. Stewart closed his eyes, feeling the wolf inside him, the pack bonds pulling him toward violence, and his humanity screaming for him to run.

"I'll be home soon," he whispered. "I promise."

But even as he said it, Stewart knew it was a lie. Nothing would be the same after tomorrow.

The wolf was winning.

# Chapter 10

Stewart arrived home at two in the morning to find Claire awake in the living room, waiting. The lamp cast shadows across her face, making her look older. Harder.

"Sit down," she said quietly.

He obeyed, exhaustion settling into his bones. The wolf was quiet now, sated by the partial transformation, but its presence lingered like a second heartbeat.

"I called your mother. Asked about Rowan Ashford. About your childhood." Claire's hands were folded in her lap, controlled. "She said you two weren't that close. That his family moved away when you were ten and she never heard his name again until you mentioned this job."

Stewart's throat tightened.

"So I did research. Rowan Ashford, billionaire, appeared in business records twelve years ago. Before that? Nothing. No college records. No previous employment. No history. Like he materialized fully formed." Claire's eyes met his. "People don't work that way, Stewart. Unless they're hiding something."

"Claire—"

"I'm not finished." Her voice was steel. "Then I looked at the contract you signed. Really looked at it. Termination of life. Pack law. I thought it was weird corporate cult language. But tonight, lying awake, I realized it sounded familiar. Like those old stories your grandmother used to tell. About the wolf packs in the mountains. About people who weren't quite people."

Stewart's heart hammered. She was too close. Too smart. "You're exhausted. Not thinking clearly."

"Don't patronize me." Claire stood, pacing. "Something happened to you. Something that changed you physically. Your eyes. Your temperature. The way you move. Even your smell. Danny's not wrong—you smell like the forest now. Like wild things."

"You're imagining—"

"Show me your hands."

"What?"

"Your hands, Stewart. Show me." Claire stepped closer, demanding. "Let me see them."

He couldn't refuse her. Not his wife. Not the woman who'd stood by him through poverty and desperation. Stewart held out his hands, and Claire grabbed them, turning them over. Looking for something. Finding it.

His fingernails were slightly pointed. Not claws, not yet. But not quite human either.

"Oh God," Claire whispered. "It's true."

"I can explain—"

"You're one of them. Those things from the stories." She backed away, fear replacing anger. "That's why Rowan found you. Why he offered you everything. He turned you into—"

"I'm still me," Stewart said desperately. "Still your husband. Still Danny and Emma's father."

"Are you? Because the man I married wouldn't disappear for days. Wouldn't come home smelling like blood. Wouldn't have secrets that make him look haunted." Tears streaked her face. "What did he do to you?"

Stewart broke. The whole story poured out—the injection, the transformation, the pack, the hunt, the violence he'd already committed. Claire listened, her expression moving from disbelief to horror to something worse: acceptance. Like she'd suspected all along and was almost relieved to have confirmation.

When he finished, silence filled the room. Heavy. Absolute.

"We have to leave," Claire finally said. "Take the kids and run. Tonight."

"We can't. The pack will track us. And there's a blood oath. If I try to leave pack territory, they'll know."

"Then break it."

"It doesn't work that way. I'm bound, Claire. Supernaturally bound." Stewart's voice cracked. "But there might be another way. A hunter named Strand offered to help. And there's a woman named Sarah who runs a refuge for wolves who want out."

"So we run to other monsters for protection?" Claire laughed bitterly. "This is insane."

"I know. But it's real. And tomorrow night, Rowan wants me to help raid a rival pack's building. If I do it, I'm complicit in arson. Maybe worse. If I don't, he'll know I'm disloyal."

"What are you going to do?"

Stewart looked at his wife, at the fear and determination in her eyes. "I don't know."

Claire sat beside him, taking his monstrous hands in hers. "Then we figure it out together. Like we always have. But Stewart, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't hurt innocent people. No matter what Rowan demands. No matter what the pack wants. Don't become the monster he's trying to make you." Her grip tightened. "Promise me."

"I promise."

They sat together as dawn approached, making plans. Claire would take the kids to her sister's house upstate. A vacation, she'd tell people. Just a week away. It would give Stewart time to decide, to contact Strand or Julia, to find a way out.

By morning, Stewart felt almost hopeful. Almost.

Then Marlene arrived unannounced. She let herself in like she owned the place, smiling at Claire with predatory warmth.

"Morning! Rowan sent me to help Claire with the charity foundation paperwork." Marlene set a briefcase on the kitchen table. "Lots to go over. Stewart, shouldn't you be getting ready? Big day."

The message was clear. They were being watched. Monitored. Any attempt to run would be noticed immediately.

Stewart kissed Claire, whispering, "Stick to the plan. Be careful."

She nodded, but her eyes held terror.

Downtown, the strike team assembled. Gabriel, Thomas, Marcus, and three others Stewart barely knew. They reviewed the plan—simple, brutal, designed to send a message to Sienna's pack. In and out in ten minutes. Burn the warehouse, destroy inventory, leave a warning. No killing unless absolutely necessary.

"Remember," Rowan said, addressing them all. "This isn't about victory. It's about dominance. Make them understand that challenging me has consequences."

They loaded into two vehicles. Stewart rode with Gabriel, stomach churning. This was it. The point of no return. After tonight, he'd be a criminal. An arsonist. Maybe worse.

His phone buzzed. Claire: Marlene is still here. Watching me. Be safe. I love you.

Then another text from a blocked number: Your wife is being monitored. Whatever you're planning, they know. - Strand

Stewart's blood ran cold. Rowan knew. Had known all along. This raid was a test. A trap.

"You okay, fresh meat?" Gabriel asked, noticing his tension.

"Fine. Just focused."

They arrived at the docks at sunset. The Northside warehouse squatted by the water, lights on, people visible through windows. Not abandoned. Occupied.

"I thought you said it would be empty," Stewart said.

"Plans change." Gabriel pulled out a weapon—not a gun, but a metal baton. "Sienna's people are inside. So we make an example."

The wolf inside Stewart stirred, sensing violence. Sensing danger. This wasn't intimidation. This was a massacre.

"Rowan said no killing unless necessary."

"Everything's necessary if it serves the pack." Gabriel smiled coldly. "You got a problem with that?"

Stewart's hand moved to his pocket, feeling Strand's number. One call. One decision.

But before he could act, Thomas burst from the other vehicle, already shifting. Fur sprouted. Bones cracked. The hunt was beginning.

And Stewart had seconds to choose which side he was on.

The warehouse doors burst open. Sienna's wolves poured out, ready for the attack. They'd known it was coming. Someone had warned them.

Gabriel snarled, "Betrayal. Someone told them."

All eyes turned to Stewart.

The newest wolf. The untested one. The obvious suspect.

"It wasn't me," Stewart said, but his voice carried doubt.

"Prove it." Gabriel tossed him the baton. "Or die with them."

In the distance, sirens began to wail. Someone had called the police. The trap was complete.

And Stewart Lennox, trapped between two packs and his own conscience, had to decide what kind of monster he would become.