Morning came too quickly.
Alex woke up on his bed, fully dressed, his shoes still on. For a moment, he thought the night had been a nightmare—another stress-filled hallucination from too many late shifts and not enough sleep. Then he moved.
Pain flared through his body.
It wasn't sharp anymore. It was deep, heavy, like his bones had been rearranged and forgotten how to sit properly. He groaned and slowly pushed himself upright. His room looked the same—posters peeling off the wall, his school bag slumped by the desk, sunlight sneaking through half-closed blinds—but he didn't feel the same.
His senses were wrong.
He could hear the hum of traffic three streets away. He could smell breakfast from the apartment below—eggs, oil, coffee. His heartbeat sounded louder than it should, steady but powerful, like it didn't belong to a normal human chest.
Alex swallowed.
"Get a grip," he told himself.
He swung his legs off the bed and froze.
There were scratches on his arms. Long, thin lines running across his forearms and chest, already healing. Not scabbed—sealed, like they'd never really been wounds at all.
His breath caught.
Memories rushed back. The pain. The moon. The sound that had come from his throat.
The howl.
Alex stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light. His reflection stared back at him—same messy dark hair, same tired eyes—but something was different. His pupils seemed sharper, more focused. When he leaned closer to the mirror, he noticed it.
A faint mark on his shoulder.
It looked like a scar at first glance, but it wasn't random. It was shaped like a crescent claw, slightly raised beneath the skin, glowing faintly before fading away.
"What… are you?" he whispered.
The mark didn't answer.
School felt unreal.
The city was loud and alive again, people rushing through crosswalks, buses screeching to stops, horns blaring. Everything looked normal—but Alex felt like he was walking through a lie.
Every sound hit him too hard. Lockers slamming felt like gunshots. Voices overlapped until they formed a low roar in his head. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe slowly.
Control it. Whatever it is.
At lunch, he sat alone, barely touching his food. That's when it happened.
A sudden smell hit him.
Blood.
Not fresh—but old. Rusted. Dangerous.
His head snapped up before he could stop himself. Across the cafeteria, a man stood near the exit. He wasn't a student—too tall, too still. He wore a dark coat despite the heat, his eyes hidden beneath the shadow of the hood.
The man was staring directly at Alex.
Alex's heart slammed against his ribs.
The smell intensified. His instincts screamed. Threat.
The man's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile before he turned and walked out.
Alex was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.
He followed.
Outside, the air felt heavier. The man was already halfway down the block, moving too smoothly, too silently. Alex chased after him, his legs carrying him faster than they ever had before.
"Hey!" Alex shouted. "You—stop!"
The man turned into an alley.
Alex hesitated for only a second before following.
The alley was narrow, dark, trash bags piled high. The city noise faded, replaced by an unsettling silence. The man stood at the far end, waiting.
"You felt it," the man said calmly. His voice was low, rough. "Didn't you?"
Alex stopped. Every instinct told him to run—or fight.
"What are you talking about?" Alex demanded.
The man stepped forward, pulling back his hood.
His eyes glowed faintly red.
"Welcome to the city beneath the city," he said. "And welcome to the curse."
Alex's skin burned. The mark on his shoulder pulsed beneath his shirt.
"You're one of us now."
A distant howl echoed through the streets above.
And Alex realized the truth.
The city wasn't just hiding monsters.
It was built on them.