Heir of The Werewolf Blood

Chapter 8 The Urban Wolf

"I know you're here," the cold, trained voice echoed, breaking the silence of the harbor warehouse. "You've been holding onto our property for too long, Aubrey boy. Give me the necklace, or I'll make sure you end up worse than your father."

Harry froze, his entire body tensing like a steel cable ready to snap. The scent of expensive tobacco and high-quality leather pricked his nostrils, a stark contrast to the rotten smell of the docks. The voice was authoritative, sharp,exactly the tone that haunted his worst nightmares. Marcus. It had to be Marcus.

"Harry, don't move!" Arthur shouted from behind a stack of crates near the entrance, his voice choked with fear.

Harry gripped the necklace beneath his shirt. Outside the crate, the expensive footsteps drew closer, stopping directly in front of the gap where Harry hid. The man didn't need to see. He knew Harry was there.

"You won't escape me, lost boy," the voice hissed, and Harry could feel the cold threat seeping through the wooden crate. "I was there when your parents died. I know what happened. Hand over the heirloom."

"Go away!" Harry yelled, his voice rough again, more like the snarl of a cornered wolf than a human sound. His instinct ordered him to attack and eliminate this threat before it could move.

"Still wild, are we?" the voice sounded amused. "But you have a little brain. You know you can't fight here."

Harry pressed the escape button he'd been holding back. He pushed the side of the wooden crate in front of him with his shoulder, not with his fists, but with a surge of power generated from his entire body.

The old wooden crate split in two with a deafening crack, thrown aside like dry leaves. Harry stood amidst the wreckage, his yellow eyes glowing in contrast to the dim light filtering through the warehouse gaps.

Standing before him was Marcus. Tall, muscular, wearing an expensive dark suit, but Marcus's eyes radiated a terrifying conflict. He recognized this man from a faint memory flash, he was one of the bodyguards standing near his father's car before the accident.

"Marcus," Harry hissed, calling the name he'd read from old archives; he didn't know how he knew the name, but it simply came to him.

Marcus's face twitched slightly when Harry spoke the name. "How do you know my name? Don't waste my time, kid. Thorne ordered me to bring you back alive, but I'll choose to kill you if you make this difficult."

"You were there," Harry accused, pointing his chin toward the crate ruins. "You watched them die."

Marcus laughed, a cold, joyless sound. "I did my duty. Just like you're doing your duty now, hiding and trying to be human. Your duty is over, Harry Aubrey."

Arthur rushed out of his new hiding spot, trying to intervene. "Go, kid! Don't get near him!"

Marcus ignored Arthur, his focus solely on Harry. "Your father made a big mistake. He played in a realm that was too dirty. And now, he passed his property on to you." Marcus pointed to the necklace barely visible on Harry's neck. "Give it to me now."

Harry knew he couldn't run anymore. If he ran, Arthur would be caught. If he fought here, he'd attract the attention of the police and the entire Black Hand. The only option was to fight.

"I won't give it to you," Harry said. "I'll find out what it is."

Harry released all control. His wolf energy burned in his veins. He didn't need to think about how to move, his body knew. It was instinct trained by the Alpha, now channeled through human anger.

He lunged forward. Marcus reacted faster than an ordinary human; he was a trained bodyguard, but Harry moved with the speed of the wild.

Harry's punch wasn't just power, it was predator precision. He didn't aim for the head, but for the gut. He channeled energy into one heavy blow.

Marcus staggered backward, his breath leaving him in a hoarse 'whoof.' He slammed into a stack of crates behind him, making the pile collapse like dominoes.

"He's strong!" Marcus shouted, struggling to get up, blood starting to drip from his lip. "He's not a normal human!"

Arthur yelled, "Call the police, Harry! They'll come!"

"No!" Harry cried. "The police work for Thorne!"

Harry moved again, but this time he saw another flash of movement. Not from Marcus, but from the other side of the warehouse. Two additional men, clearly Black Hand lackeys, had crept in during the chaos. They carried metal rods.

A trap. This entire harbor had been turned into a trap since he got the job here.

Harry felt a cold panic run through him. He couldn't face three men at once without releasing full control, and if he did, he would become a monster in Arthur's eyes and the eyes of the world.

He had to distract them. Harry glanced at the slightly open warehouse door.

"Run, Arthur!" Harry yelled.

Harry flipped over a large crate filled with iron bolts. The weight was immense, but he lifted it as if it were just paper. With a howl of rage that sounded distinctly wolf-like, he hurled the crate at the two new lackeys.

The crate struck one man hard, sending him sprawling. The other man was forced to dodge.

Harry didn't waste time. He lunged toward Arthur, grabbed the back of Arthur's collar, and ran toward the gap.

As they reached the exit, Marcus, now back on his feet despite a limp, yelled with a voice full of vengeance.

"You won't live long, Aubrey boy! Thorne wants answers from you!"

Harry pulled Arthur out into the dimly lit harbor alley, taking a deep breath, trying to extinguish the fire inside him. They had escaped, but at a high price. They were now the most wanted fugitives in the city.

"Arthur, we have to go somewhere very safe," Harry said, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated in the darkness.

Arthur gasped for breath, staring at Harry with a mix of awe and horror. "You... you're not human, Harry. I knew it. Who are you really?"

"I... I don't know yet," Harry admitted, pain piercing him. He had uncovered a fraction of the truth, but now he had to confront the reality,he was a target because of a necklace and his bloodline.

"We have to figure it out," Arthur urged, realizing that fighting would only drag them deeper in. "We need to find out what's behind all this. We have to go to the most hidden place you know."

"Hidden place?" Harry was confused. He only knew the woods.

"Yes. You have your father's photo, you have the necklace. This isn't just about the Black Hand. Your father must have hidden something somewhere no one would know about. We have to go back to where it all started. The scene of the accident."

Harry looked at Arthur, then held his necklace. If he had to go back to where the tragedy happened, there was only one place. The ruins of his parents' house, the place where everything ended or began.

"I know where," Harry said, cold determination replacing the adrenaline. "I have to go back there. I need to see where they left us."

Arthur looked at him with a bitter expression. "All right, kid. But if you go back there, you're going alone. I can't follow you into that hellfire. I'll wait for you somewhere safe if you come back."

Harry nodded. He couldn't force Arthur to take that risk. He turned around, away from the harbor and the crowd, and ran fast toward the outskirts of the city, toward the ruins that held the greatest mystery of his life. He would find his father's remains.

He ran, and as he ran, that vague memory returned, stronger than before. Not just the sound of the accident, but the sound of an old man crying in the ruins, holding a small bundle.

An old man crying and holding a small bundle... which was none other than myself.

Harry ran, his mind filled with questions,Who was that old man? And why did he leave baby Harry in the woods, if he was the one crying over him at the ruins?

He ran faster, every step fueled by the urgent need to realize that he was the lost baby in the Aubrey Family tragedy, and someone he knew might have saved him.

"Who left me there?!"

Harry yelled into the empty night air, his voice almost drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.