Howl of the Forgotten

The Bartender Who Knows Too Much

Rain hammered the alley as Luca and Marrow slipped into the shadows behind the bar. The air smelled of wet asphalt and rust. A security light buzzed overhead, flickering like it was deciding whether to stay alive.

Marrow scanned the street before moving. “Don’t speak until we’re two blocks out,” she murmured.

Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He followed, steps soundless despite the slick pavement. His balance felt too precise to be learned. It was remembered, somewhere beyond memory.

They turned through a narrow walkway between buildings, past dumpsters and steam vents and a door marked NO ENTRY with peeling red paint. A stray dog lifted its head from under a stairwell and growled low. Its ears flattened. Its body dipped. Submission.

Marrow noticed.

She didn’t comment.

They reached a rusted fire escape ladder. Marrow grasped the rails and climbed. Luca’s hands followed — but he didn’t look where to place his feet. He climbed like a creature that had done it a thousand times in the dark.

They reached the rooftop.

The city sprawled before them — neon in blue, red, and sickly yellow. Sirens screamed somewhere distant. Thunder rolled overhead.

Marrow exhaled. “We need answers,” she said. “Which means we need him.”

Luca looked at her. “The bartender.”

She nodded. “You were never careless, Luca. You didn’t leave information lying around. But you trusted him with something. I don’t know what. And now—”

A voice cut her off from behind them.

“—now he’s in danger because you woke up.”

Luca turned slowly.

The bartender stood in the rooftop doorway, breathing hard, rain soaking through his shirt. He must have run up the stairs. His hands shook, not from the cold, but from fear and something heavier.

Regret.

“You should have stayed dead,” the bartender said.

Marrow tensed. “You called them?”

The bartender’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Luca stepped toward him — not threatening, not aggressive — just present. The bartender stumbled back anyway.

“You know what happens if they find you,” the bartender said. “The Order has trackers out. They’ve been waiting for a sign — any sign — that the Pack might return. If they realize you’re alive—”

“They already know,” Luca said quietly.

Footsteps echoed below. Doors slamming. Radios crackling.

The bartender’s face broke — not into fear — into heartbreak.

“I tried to protect what was left of you,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to see you become that thing again.”

Luca’s voice remained calm. “What thing?”

The bartender just closed his eyes.

And said nothing.

Marrow swore under her breath. “We’re out of time.”

Luca walked past her and knelt in front of the bartender. Not hostile — but the air around him tightened, like gravity had grown heavier.

“Look at me,” Luca said.

The bartender didn’t.

Luca didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t grab him. He just waited — with the patience of something that had waited centuries before.

Finally, the bartender looked up.

Luca’s eyes were dark, steady, still — but there was something behind them now. Not glowing. Not monstrous. Just ancient.

“Tell me the truth,” Luca said. “What was I?”

The bartender’s breath shook. “You were the Alpha. The anchor. The only one who could hold the Pack through the turn. When the moon rose, you were the voice they listened to. Without you, they tore each other apart.”

Luca held the man’s gaze, and something moved behind Luca’s own eyes — a flicker, a tremor, a memory trying to break through the dark.

“And Rhea?” Luca asked — soft as rain.

The bartender swallowed hard. “Rhea was the one who kept you from losing yourself to the change.”

Marrow looked sharply at him. “Rhea controlled him?”

“Not controlled,” the bartender whispered. “Loved.”

Silence rolled across the rooftop like thunder.

Then —

Boots hit metal stairs below.

Multiple pairs.

Coming fast.

Marrow’s hand went to the inside of her coat. Luca didn’t look at her, but he already knew she was armed.

“Front or back?” Luca asked.

Marrow jerked her head toward the far ledge. “Jump to the parallel roof. Three meters across. You can make it.”

“Can you?” Luca asked.

Marrow’s jaw twitched. “If you go first, I will.”

The bartender grabbed Luca’s arm suddenly. “You don’t understand — the Order isn’t just hunting you. They’re hunting her. Rhea. If they get to her before you do, she’s gone. For good.”

Rain streamed down Luca’s face. His expression didn’t change. But inside, a wire pulled tight.

“Where?” Luca asked.

The bartender shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t—”

He stopped.

Because Luca’s eyes changed.

Just for a second.

Not fully. Not visibly monstrous. But the pupils stretched — not wide like fear, not narrow like anger — something else. Something predatory that didn’t belong to men.

The bartender flinched.

And the answer came out of him like a confession:

“The Glass Citadel. Corporate district. Penthouse level. She used to go there when she needed to think. Before everything went wrong.”

Below, a radio crackled:

“We have movement on the roof.”

Luca released the bartender’s arm — gentle, controlled — then stood.

Marrow stepped beside him, gun already drawn.

No panic. No hesitation.

Luca looked across the gap between rooftops — wind whipping, rain falling hard enough to sting.

Three meters.

His body didn’t question it.

He stepped back once.

Then ran.

His boots hit the rooftop edge and his feet left the ground — body stretched, movement effortless.

He landed on the far roof in a roll that flowed back into standing.

Marrow followed — not graceful, but committed.

She landed hard, stumbled, caught herself on her palm, and exhaled.

From behind them came the pounding of boots and shouted orders.

Luca didn’t look back.

He simply said:

“Corporate district. Now.”

Marrow nodded once.

They vanished into the storm.