Doyke tried to speak, but the crowd had already moved beyond listening.

  Voices rolled across the plaza in overlapping waves—fear, anger, and accusations thrown between neighbors who only days ago had greeted each other like family. People pressed closer to the truck, staring at the grotesque corpse lying in the bed, while others turned their fury toward the platform where the mayor stood.

  “You brought this here!”

  “You’re lying to us!”

  “This is their fault!”

  The first stone came from somewhere in the back of the crowd and struck the side of the truck with a sharp metallic clang. A second followed almost immediately, then another, until several people began hurling whatever they could grab. When the swollen body of the mutated hyena shifted slightly under the tarp, a woman near the front screamed, and the fragile restraint holding the crowd together finally snapped.

  Panic spread outward like a shockwave.

  Some surged toward the platform where Doyke stood, demanding answers. Others tried to push away from the truck, shoving through the growing crush of bodies. Voices rose higher, fists swung, and somewhere in the chaos someone fell to the ground.

  The town square erupted.

  “Toa! Explain this!” someone shouted.

  Another voice roared back, “The mayor knew about it!”

  Doyke raised both hands and tried again to regain control.

  “Everyone, please—”

  But his words were swallowed by the noise.

  Then a single gunshot split the air.

  The sound cracked across the plaza like lightning striking stone, cutting through the shouting with brutal clarity. In the span of a heartbeat, every voice died.

  The crowd froze.

  Ray stood beside the platform with his pistol raised toward the sky, a thin ribbon of smoke curling lazily from the barrel. He lowered the weapon without any sign of urgency, his movements calm and deliberate, as though the chaos around him had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

  Stepping forward, he took the microphone from Doyke with quiet ease.

  “Hello,” he said.

  His voice carried cleanly through the speakers that hung around the square. Ray tapped the microphone once, listening to the echo ripple across the plaza before nodding slightly to himself.

  “Good,” he said mildly. “It works.”

  Toa spun toward him, his face twisted with anger.

  “Don’t try to act mysterious!” he shouted. “Tell them the truth!”

  Ray didn’t even glance in his direction.

  Instead, he studied the crowd.

  Faces had turned pale. Eyes remained wide and fixed on him, caught somewhere between fear and expectation. The anger that had ruled the square moments ago had already begun to fracture.

  Perfect.

  “My name is Raymond Cael,” he said calmly. “Chief of Research at Voss Group.”

  The silence deepened.

  “You’re looking at that animal,” Ray continued, nodding toward the corpse in the truck, “and you’re wondering if this is something we created.”

  A murmur passed through the crowd.

  “No,” Ray said simply. “But the virus responsible for it is very real.”

  Whispers began spreading again, though they were quieter now, restrained by the tension that hung over the square.

  “You want answers,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “And I’m more than willing to give them.”

  He paused just long enough for anticipation to build.

  “But you’ll get them tomorrow.”

  Confused voices began rising again.

  “Also,” Ray added casually, “only after the chips are installed.”

  That single sentence sent another ripple through the crowd.

  Ray raised one hand, and the square quieted again almost immediately.

  “Why?” he asked.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

  “Because not all of you will react well to what we’re about to explain,” he said calmly. “To put it simply, you are not yet prepared for the truth.”

  His gaze drifted slowly across the gathered townsfolk, observing their reactions with the same detached focus a scientist might give a laboratory specimen.

  Fear. Anger. Suspicion.

  Exactly what he expected.

  “And some truths,” he continued quietly, “do not enlighten people.”

  He allowed a brief pause.

  “They break them.”

  The murmuring crowd fell into a deeper silence.

  Ray tilted his head slightly, as if considering them.

  “You all know Voss Group, don’t you?”

  A few reluctant nods. Others avoided his eyes.

  He gave a faint, almost amused smile.

  “Then let me ask you something.”

  His voice remained calm, almost conversational.

  “If we truly wanted this town as our playground…, do you honestly believe we would stand here asking for your permission first?”

  The words settled over the crowd like cold mist.

  A man near the front shifted uneasily. Someone in the back lowered the stone they had been gripping.

  Neighbors glanced at one another, doubt beginning to creep between them.

  Ray let the silence stretch just long enough.

  “Our reasons for choosing Bram are our own,” he continued, folding his hands behind his back. “But harming you?”

  He shook his head lightly.

  “That would be… inefficient.”

  Another pause.

  “You may not trust us,” he said. “That’s understandable.”

  His eyes swept across the square again.

  “But if we intended to destroy this town…”

  A small, knowing smile touched his lips.

  “…you wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation with me.”

  Ray gave a small shrug, as though the matter were far less complicated than the crowd believed.

  “So, here’s the deal.”

  His voice didn’t rise, but something in it tightened, like a door quietly clicking shut.

  “You get the chip today.”

  He lifted a hand and gestured toward the distant compound beyond the town, its metal walls catching the afternoon light.

  “Or you walk away.”

  The words hung in the air.

  A long, heavy pause followed.

  “If you choose to walk away,” Ray added calmly, “then you face the virus on your own.”

  A ripple moved through the crowd—people shifting their weight, whispering under their breath, the earlier anger now tangled with uncertainty.

  Ray watched them for a moment, expression unreadable.

  “Decide before sunset.”

  No threat. No persuasion.

  Just a deadline.

  He handed the microphone back to Doyke without another word.

  Then he turned and walked away.

  Just like that.

  For several seconds, no one in the plaza moved.

  The silence felt heavier than the shouting had been.

  Then people began moving.

  Small groups formed quickly—some heading toward the Voss registration area, others crowding around the mayor with urgent questions. Some hurry for their home, arguing between themselves.

  Toa stood frozen on the truck.

  His moment had slipped away.

  Completely.

  He jumped down and tried to slip through the edge of the crowd.

  Two guards stepped into his path.

  “Where are you going, star of the show?” one said.

  Toa froze.

  They grabbed his arms and dragged him toward a waiting van.

  Ray stood beside the open door; arms crossed.

  “Well,” he said mildly.

  “That was dramatic.”

  He tilted his head.

  “But also… very stupid.”

  Toa stammered. “I—I didn’t mean—”

  Ray raised a finger.

  “Don’t.”

  The single word cut him off.

  Ray leaned slightly closer.

  “Tell me where Rhyvan is,” he said quietly.

  “Maybe you live.”

  Toa broke immediately.

  “I’ll tell you everything!”

  Ray smiled.

  “Good.”

  His eyes narrowed to thin lines.

  “You’re not completely useless after all.”

  The van door slammed shut.

  —-------------------------------------

  Werewolf Hideout – Edge of the Forest

  Rhyvan paced along the ridge above the clearing, claws scraping lightly against the exposed rock.

  The forest felt wrong tonight.

  Too quiet.

  His pack waited among the trees below, restless but disciplined. No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to move carefully through the branches.

  They had waited too long.

  Then a lookout’s howl cut through the forest.

  Short. Sharp.

  Warning.

  Rhyvan froze.

  A heartbeat later the scent reached him—gunpowder, oil, sweat.

  Humans.

  Voss Group.

  His instincts surged immediately. Soldiers were spreading through the hills beneath them, moving carefully but in numbers.

  Fifty, perhaps more.

  Before Rhyvan could issue a command, a voice carried up from the forest floor.

  “You’re surrounded!”

  The words echoed faintly against the hillside.

  “Don’t run,” the voice continued. “I only want to talk. Let’s not make this messy.”

  A low growl rolled through the pack.

  Rhyvan’s lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth.

  “I’m coming up alone,” the voice added after a moment.

  Then, with deliberate calm:

  “Unless that’s too scary for a werewolf.”

  Several of the younger wolves snarled.

  Rhyvan lifted a hand and they held their ground.

  Moments later a figure emerged from the trees below and began climbing the slope toward them.

  No armor.

  No rifle.

  Just a white lab coat.

  Raymond Cael.

  He moved steadily until he reached the ridge, stopping only when more than a dozen werewolves had surrounded him in a silent circle of fur and glowing eyes.

  Ray looked around with calm curiosity.

  “Rhyvan,” he said, extending a hand as if greeting an old acquaintance.

  “Raymond Cael. Voss Group.”

  Rhyvan didn’t move.

  “Where are my scouts?” he asked coldly.

  Ray’s smile barely shifted.

  “Sleeping.”

  The wolves stiffened.

  “Sedated,” Ray clarified. “They’ll wake up soon. No permanent harm.”

  Rhyvan studied him for a long moment before finally stepping forward and shaking his hand.

  The gesture was brief.

  “What do you want?”

  “To talk things through,” Ray replied simply.

  His eyes moved slowly across the gathered pack—young faces twisted with anger, bodies tense with the urge to attack. Yet none of them moved without their alpha’s word.

  Interesting.

  “You may not realize it yet,” Ray continued, “but the world is changing faster than any of us expected.”

  He reached into his coat and pulled out a small device.

  A wrist communicator.

  Ray tossed it toward Rhyvan.

  “Take a look.”

  Rhyvan caught it automatically.

  “News feeds,” Ray said. “Cities, military channels, infection reports.”

  The screen flickered to life.

  Burning streets.

  Collapsed highways.

  Creatures tearing through barricades while soldiers fired desperately into the dark.

  The world outside the forest was falling apart.

  Rhyvan stared at the images, his grip tightening slightly around the device.

  Ray watched him quietly.

  “You, see?” he said after a moment.

  “You aren’t special.”

  Something twisted inside Rhyvan’s chest.

  Part of him wanted to tear the smug smile off Ray’s face.

  But another instinct whispered something colder. If he followed that anger now, the soldiers waiting in the forest below would wipe them out before sunrise.

  Ray spoke again, his voice lower now.

  “You can fight us.”

  A brief pause.

  “Or work with us.”

  His eyes met Rhyvan’s evenly.

  “But you won’t survive alone.”

  The forest fell silent again.

  Rhyvan didn’t answer.

  But he didn’t throw the device away either.