The backup arrived faster than I'd expected.
Twenty-three werewolf packs descended on the industrial district like a supernatural storm, turning our desperate last stand into a complete rout. The tactical teams surrounding our safe house found themselves outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and facing creatures they'd only read about in classified reports.
It was over in less than ten minutes.
Now we sat in Marcus Rivera's secure compound in the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by the scent of wet concrete and disinfectant that all underground bunkers seemed to share. Dr. Elena Vasquez had commandeered the medical facility, turning it into an impromptu genetics laboratory.
"The results are remarkable," she said, looking up from a microscope that probably cost more than my apartment. "And terrifying."
Alexander paced behind her, his usual controlled demeanor cracking under the strain of everything we'd learned. "Just tell us what you found."
