I woke up early that morning, knowing I had to work. I jogged to the factory, something that still surprised me—I only needed ten minutes now instead of the forty it used to take before becoming a werewolf.
At my workstation, a section reserved for me in the service department, a few coworkers were already eating breakfast. Our job was to repair machine components the maintenance team sent in. Most cases were minor—burned resistors or capacitors, sometimes a fuse. When it was a fuse, it usually meant a deeper issue: power supply problems from a faulty resistor, capacitor, or even an IC chip. The work wasn't difficult, but it was endless.
We didn't talk much in the service department. Not because we disliked each other, but because we all tended to keep to ourselves—unless a problem forced us to cooperate.
Later that evening, Selene called. She wanted to meet at a small restaurant near her clinic. Her tone carried weight, something she didn't want to say over the phone. I agreed.
By the time I arrived, it was nine o'clock, right after my shift. Selene was already at a corner table, sipping what looked like hot chocolate.
"You're late," she teased lightly, raising an eyebrow.
"Overtime," I replied, sliding into the chair across from her. "So, what's so important that you couldn't just tell me on the phone?"
She set her cup down, about to answer, when a strange pressure crept over me. My instincts screamed. I shot up from my chair just as a man appeared in front of me, his fist swinging toward my face.
If I'd been a second slower, it would've connected. Instead, I caught his arm, spun, and slammed him to the floor with my right hand gripping his throat. My fist was halfway down, aiming for his face, when—
"Daniel, stop!" Selene's voice cut through.
I froze, teeth clenched, but didn't release him until she stepped closer.
"He's not your enemy," she said firmly. "This is Damien, the pack leader of your sister's Blue Moon Pack. He has… a habit of testing people when they first meet."
The man chuckled even as I let him up. He brushed off his shirt and extended his hand like nothing had happened.
"No hard feelings," he said smoothly. "You've got sharp instincts. Tell me—was that your extra ability?"
"Maybe," I said flatly, shaking his hand without enthusiasm. "Not really something I share with strangers."
Damien grinned like he appreciated my bluntness. "Fair enough."
Selene sighed, looking at the broken table and overturned chairs from our brief clash. "We should probably sit somewhere else before the staff comes running."
Damien only laughed. "Don't worry about it. I own this place."
That explained a lot.
We moved to another table, and once we sat down, Damien leaned forward, his playful smile fading. "Now, Daniel, there's something important I need to tell you…"