Chapter 107: The Crimson Hunt
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The silence in the hideout was unsettling. Dust floated lazily in the air, the place reeking of rust, mold, and something far more metallic, blood. The dim light from a broken overhead bulb flickered, casting sharp shadows against the cracked concrete walls. In the center of it all, written in jagged, dripping strokes across the far wall, was a single, chilling message:
THE WAR IS ALMOST HERE.
Felix stared at it, his breath hitching. His fists clenched by his sides.
Adrian took a few cautious steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the writing. "What war are they talking about?" he muttered, voice hushed like the walls themselves might whisper back.
Felix’s eyes scanned the abandoned space again, mangled chairs, empty bottles, shattered pieces of what once were tables. A dark symbol had been etched into the floor, faint but unmistakable, a wolf skull dripping with fangs.
"I don’t know," Felix finally answered, "but whatever it is... it’s coming."
A chill slithered down both their spines. The air suddenly felt colder.
"We need to report this," Adrian said firmly, straightening. "Whatever they’re planning, it’s big. The Lycans, whoever’s involved, they’re not hiding it anymore."
f(r)eew(e)bnovel.(c)o(m)
Felix shook his head slowly. "Report it to who, Astrid? Magnus Thorn? The same people who’ve turned their backs every time a feral gets slaughtered? When have they ever cared?"
Adrian turned to him sharply. "Even if they don’t care about us, this.... this affects everyone. This isn’t about just ferals anymore. It’s something bigger."
Felix looked back at the blood-streaked message and swallowed hard. As much as he hated to admit it, Adrian was right. This wasn’t just a threat, it was a warning.