Chapter 6: Putting the Pieces together
The auto yard was quiet save for the hum of insects and the creak of old metal under the morning sun. Tyler sat on the edge of a rusted-out flatbed, arms folded over his chest, staring at the gravel. The air smelled of grease, dust, and something older. Something animal. It clung to his skin no matter how hard he tried to scrub it away.
Mason pulled up in the Dodge within ten minutes of the call, tires crunching across the gravel. He jumped out before the engine fully died, slamming the door and hurrying over. His eyes widened when he saw Tyler.
"You're alive," Mason breathed.
"Barely."
Mason's gaze swept over him. "You're not hurt?"
"Nothing serious. I think the healing kicked in.
The System said I got stat boosts—strength, endurance, stamina. And something about needing meat. Energy's still low."
Mason nodded slowly. "You looked like you went twelve rounds with a bear. Then became the bear."
They stood in silence for a moment. Mason leaned against a toolbox beside the truck.
"So…" he said. "You remember anything?"
"Flashes. Pain. The system was foggy. I ran. I fought… someone."
Mason's eyes narrowed. "Someone?"
Tyler nodded. "A Hunter. A girl. A Woman. Armed. Knew what I was. even used silver in her bullets and im pretty sure the blade she was using was dipped in silver too."
Mason's brows shot up. "Silver?"
"She shot me twice. Slowed me down, but it didn't stop me. I… I didn't kill her."
"Why not?"
Tyler looked down at his hands. "Because I could tell she was scared. But not cruel. I saw something in her eyes. She didn't deserve it. Even if she wanted to kill me."
Mason exhaled and rubbed his face. "We've got a problem then. If she knows what you are…"
"I don't think she followed me all the way. Something pulled her away."
Mason checked his phone. "Maybe. I checked the local scanner this morning. No reports of mauled hikers or bodies in the woods. But if she's with some organization—"
"She's not a cop," Tyler interrupted. "Too fast. Too trained. She had a knife laced with silver and some kind of scanner."
Mason nodded. "Private hunter then. Syndicate maybe. Or rogue."
Before Tyler could reply, the distant rumble of an old truck rolled up the dirt road toward the yard.
Uncle Rick.
The battered F-150 pulled into the lot and parked. The man who stepped out was built like a retired lumberjack—broad shoulders under a red flannel shirt, jeans, and tan work boots. His black hair was streaked with gray, but his blue eyes—identical to Tyler's—were sharp.
"Morning, boys," Rick said, grabbing his thermos from the cab. "You two look like hell."
Tyler managed a smirk. "Rough night."
Rick gave him a long look, and Tyler felt like the man could see straight through him.
"No kidding," Rick said. "I swung by the house. Saw the mess. Doors wrecked. Chains snapped. Shed torn open like a sardine can."
Mason stiffened. "We were gonna fix it."
"Fixing's not the issue. What the hell happened?"
Neither answered.
Rick's gaze lingered. "You know, your father and I used to talk about stuff like this. Old stories. Strange blood running in the family. I never thought much of it… till now."
Tyler looked up sharply. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I may not know what going on with you two, kid… but I know it ain't normal." Rick took a swig from his thermos. "And I think it's time you boys start being honest."
Tyler and Mason exchanged a glance. Not yet. Not to Rick. Not until they understood it themselves.
Before either could reply, Rick stepped back. "You're lucky the neighbors didn't call the cops. Keep whatever this is quiet. You hear me?"
"We will," Mason said.
Rick grunted. "Good. Now help me unload that transmission from the bed, and then you two are cleaning up that mess at the house."
He walked off toward the garage bay, leaving the brothers to breathe again.
Meanwhile – Selene
Selene sat on the tailgate of her cousin's pickup, hands wrapped in a bloodied towel. Her right side ached from where the creature had thrown her. Nothing broken. Just bruised. Her dad paced nearby, chewing her out.
"What the hell were you thinking going out alone?"
"I wasn't alone. I had eyes on the feed. I was tracking."
"Tracking a Class-B Lycanthrope by yourself. Brilliant."
"I had him. Then you and Jake showed up like a couple of drunks at a funeral."
"We were worried about you!"
Selene winced, shifting on the tailgate. "I had him. He could've killed me—but he didn't."
Her father stopped pacing. "What?"
"He ran. He looked at me like he recognized something. Like he remembered being human."
Her uncle walked over from the motel with a grim look. "Are you sure you weren't just concussed?"
Selene didn't answer. She stared at the horizon, golden eyes catching the light.
"He was young," she whispered. "Newly turned. He didn't know what he was doing. But he fought the urge. I saw it."
Her dad crossed his arms. "Don't get soft on this. You know what happens when people hesitate. These creatures are mindless and will kill you without a second thought, we are here to protect human life. Never hesitate."
"I'm not hesitating," Selene said. "I'm hunting smarter."
They left her alone after that.
Back inside the motel room, she peeled off her jacket, exposing the bruises already blooming down her ribs. She sat at the small table and pulled out her notebook.
Page one: sketches, scent notes, claw pattern, muscle density estimates.
Page two: a rough portrait she'd started—angular jaw, wild hair, those glowing yellow eyes.
Below it, she wrote:
Didn't kill me.
Didn't give in.
Still human underneath.
She stared at those words for a long time.
Then she circled them.
And underlined Still human....