The city wasn't ready for him.
It had forgotten.
Ash veil's backstreets hummed with synthetic light, but the shadows were thick with danger. Supernatural factions carved it up like prey — vampires ran the Blood Markets, hybrids smuggled silver tech through the sewers, and rogue wolves took territory while their Alphas played politics.
But all of them went quiet when the engine roared.
Zane didn't ride through the front gate.
He tore it off the hinges.
Ruin Howl shrieked through metal and magic alike as he launched into Black Spire Alley — territory run by the Crimson Syndicate, a hybrid vampire cartel known for draining wolf blood for spell-fuel.
Tonight, that ends.
The first wave of enforcers didn't see him coming.
Two vampires flashed down from rooftop perches — blades drawn, eyes burning red.
Zane didn't even shift.
He slid the bike sideways, tires sparking, and clothes lined both mid-air with the arc of his blade-wrapped arm, steel singing as blood misted the air.
"Code Black. It's the Rider!" a voice screamed from inside the building.
Too late.
He was already inside.
Ruin Howl crashed through the syndicate's warehouse wall like a comet. Zane leapt from the seat mid-motion, landing in the center of the room with a slow exhale.
Twenty guards. Half vampire. Half hybrid. All armed.
Zane cracked his neck.
No words.
Just war.
They attacked all at once — claws, bullets, spells. The air erupted in smoke and chaos.
Zane moved like liquid fire.
A punch shattered a hybrid's ribcage.
A thrown blade spun into a vampire's skull.
One tried to shift into mist — Zane caught it mid-change and drove his glowing fist through the fog.
They weren't fighting a wolf.
They were fighting a storm.
The last one standing tried to crawl.
Zane pinned him with his boot.
"Tell them," he growled. "Tell your queen..."
He crouched, whispering into the bloodied hybrid's ear.
"The Wolf Rider doesn't forget."
Outside, Ruin Howl waited, engine humming like a heart reborn. Zane mounted it slowly, blood dripping down his jacket, golden eyes glowing through his cracked visor.
He revved once — and vanished into the smoke like a ghost on fire.
High above the city, in a floating glass tower lined with red enchantments, the Tribrid Queen watched the aftermath through a scrying mirror. Her fingers dug into the throne.
"He's not just back," she hissed.
"He's hunting."