The street was quiet when Tolu finally made it back. Morning light painted the compound gold, birds chirping like nothing strange had ever happened. He slipped through the gate, trying to move quietly, but the front door creaked before he even touched it.
His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp as daggers.
"Tolu."
He froze. "Uh… morning, Mom."
"Morning?" she repeated, her voice cold. "You left yesterday evening and didn't come home all night. Do you think this is a hotel?!"
Tolu rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not what you think, I—"
"Oh, it's not?" she snapped, stepping closer. "So you weren't at some party, wasting your time and doing God knows what?"
He opened his mouth but closed it again. There wasn't a single explanation that would sound remotely normal.
"I'm disappointed, Tolu," she continued, shaking her head. "You're grounded. From now on, you don't stay out past 8 p.m., you hear me?"
"Yes, ma," he muttered.
"Good. Now, go to your room before I lose my temper completely."
Tolu nodded quickly and slipped past her. The tension followed him up the hallway like a shadow. He shut his door, leaned against it, and finally exhaled.
The room felt safe — ordinary. Posters on the wall, books scattered on the desk, his phone charging by the bed. For a second, it almost felt like last night hadn't happened.
He threw himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "What a night," he muttered to himself, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. His eyelids grew heavy.
Outside, his mother sat in the living room, sighing softly. "Where on earth did that boy go last night…" she murmured, worry flickering in her eyes even through the anger.
Back in his room, Tolu turned on his side, clutching the pillow. The forest, the blood, the girl, the transformation — it all felt like a fever dream.
But his sore muscles and faint scars said otherwise.
He closed his eyes. Rough night, he thought, before sleep finally took him.
---
Sunlight poured faintly through the half-closed curtains, washing the room in a warm, dusty glow. Tolu groaned as he sat up, his body still heavy but less sore than before. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand.
3:42 p.m.
"Damn," he muttered. "I really slept the whole day."
He unlocked the screen — and instantly froze. Seventy-eight unread messages.
Scrolling down, most were from Amara.
> Hey, you alive?
Just checking in. You better not be ignoring me.
Looking forward to tomorrow! I want that lesson you promised 😤
Still not replying? Fine, I'll keep sending messages till you do.
You made me this way, wolf boy.
Tolu couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "She's unbelievable…"
Then he saw one message that made his smile fade.
It was from Ore.
> Hey, what's up? Come over — we need to talk.
His stomach tightened.
He hadn't seen her since that night.
And he had no idea what she remembered… or what she'd think if she knew the truth.
He stared at the message for a long while, thumb hovering over the reply box. Finally, he sighed, muttering to himself, "Yeah… guess I can't avoid it forever."
He swung his legs off the bed, stood up, and stretched again. "One crazy night, and my life's already flipped upside down," he said under his breath.
He grabbed a hoodie — a real one this time — and checked the mirror.
Then he pocketed his phone and walked out of the room, the message from Ore replaying in his head.
---
The room felt heavier than usual. Ore sat on the edge of her bed, staring at nothing in particular. Her fingers wouldn't stop trembling no matter how tightly she clasped them together.
Her father's words from that morning kept circling in her head:
> "He's changed."
Changed.
The word wouldn't stop echoing. What did it mean?
Changed how?
She'd seen fear in her father's eyes — the kind that made her stomach twist. For a man like him to look that way, it had to be serious.
Her memory was still a blur — flashes of light, shouting, pain, and then darkness.
Sometimes she wished she hadn't woken up at all, just so she wouldn't have to replay it.
The thought that she could have died kept sneaking up on her, tightening her chest until she had to take deep breaths just to stay calm.
She rubbed her arms slowly, the faint marks still there even though her father said they'd fade. But they weren't what haunted her. It was what came after.
She'd asked him what really happened.
He didn't answer. He just told her Tolu had changed — and that he wanted to see him too when he came.
That part made no sense.
Why would her father want to talk to him?
She glanced at the clock. The minutes crawled. She had already sent the message hours ago:
> Hey, what's up? Come over. We need to talk.
Now all she could do was wait — wait for Tolu to show up, and maybe for her father to finally explain why.
But underneath all the confusion and fear, one quiet question stayed buried in her mind:
What if her father was right… and Tolu really had changed?
---
The mansion was eerily silent, the once-proud heart of the pack now drenched in blood and loss.
Alamu stood before the long table, staring at Ajamu's decapitated body laid out cold and lifeless. The stench of death clung to the air — thick, metallic, and final.
He exhaled shakily.
He had seen everything — Tolu's transformation, the violent frenzy, and the moment the boy absorbed Ajamu's alpha powers.
That image haunted him more than anything.
Because it meant the unthinkable: the alpha's power was gone.
And without it, the pack was nothing.
Tolu had killed more than half their men that night. Those who lived were scattered, broken, and afraid.
The others… too wounded to fight, too angry to serve.
For hours, Alamu stood there, torn between fear and resolve.
If he failed — if the power truly died with Ajamu — their pack would be crippled forever.
He clenched his jaw and raised his hand. His claws extended with a sharp metallic sound, gleaming under the dim light.
Without hesitation, he plunged them deep into Ajamu's heart.
A moment passed — stillness, dread — then a rush of heat surged through him.
Power. Raw and ancient.
He gasped, feeling it race through his veins like wildfire, his eyes flickering with a faint glow. Slowly, a smile crept across his face — half relief, half triumph.
"The ancestors haven't forsaken us," he whispered.
He looked down at Ajamu's body one last time.
They were public enemies now — hunted, weakened, desperate. But with power restored, there was still a chance.
If they wanted to survive… they needed strength.
And he would give it to them — no matter the cost.