"What the hell is happening to me?!"
Luke stared in horror at the gray fur slowly growing from his arms. A wave of even more excruciating pain coursed through his body, leaving him weak and trembling. He collapsed to his knees, bracing himself on the floor as his mind grew foggy. Low, guttural growls escaped his throat involuntarily.
"Bang!"
The sound of the front door being smashed open echoed through the room. Before losing consciousness, Luke heard one of the agents assigned to protect him shout his name in panic.
Two FBI agents rushed in but stopped abruptly at the sight of Luke. His body was rapidly transforming—fur sprouted all over, and his fingernails elongated into sharp, black claws.
"We have a situation," the lead agent muttered, his eyes wide. "We need to get out of here and report this."
His partner nodded quickly. Staying in the same room with a transforming Luke was a death wish. Fortunately, the safe house's design allowed them to lock down the entire building, making it difficult for anyone inside or outside to escape.
When Luke finally regained consciousness, he found himself immobilized, strapped upright to a metal frame. Thick leather restraints bound his wrists, ankles, and neck. A transparent glass wall separated him from a group of onlookers in lab coats and military uniforms.
Confusion and fear overwhelmed him as he noticed their cold, calculating stares. He struggled against the restraints and shouted, "Let me down!"
His voice was different—low and raspy, almost unrecognizable.
"Who are you people?! Why are you holding me here?!"
Hearing him speak, one of the scientists on the other side of the glass became visibly excited. "Can you remember your name and personal details?"
"I'm Luke Harris! My father was Robert Harris, the CIA director! Why the hell are you keeping me locked up?!"
The mention of his late father didn't faze the observers. They were far more interested in his transformation than his family connections.
One middle-aged scientist turned to a general and spoke with excitement. "This is incredible. We've studied werewolves for years, but this is the first time we've seen a specimen whose facial features remain human-like after transformation.
"And not only that—he's maintaining rational thought and speech. No wonder the European werewolves went to such extreme lengths to come to New York."
"You're saying that the reason for the attack on Robert Harris's family was this kid here?" the general asked, skeptical.
"What else could it be?" The scientist spoke with certainty. "Do you know why werewolves have always struggled against vampires in their wars?
"It's because, after transformation, most of them lose their intelligence. Only a rare few can retain some level of control. Without discipline, even the strongest werewolf forces are nothing but a mob of beasts. It's no surprise they've been subjugated for centuries."
The general frowned, unconvinced. He had access to classified intelligence that painted a more complex picture. If the werewolves had only attacked the Harris family, this theory might have held water. However, they had also assaulted a U.S. military base, killing two other conspirators and their families.
Moreover, the seventy werewolves involved in the attack displayed alarming tactics. They wore partial steel armor and employed coordinated strategies such as feints, ambushes, and diversions. This level of organization was far from what he'd expect from mindless beasts.
To make matters worse, the base's surveillance footage had been wiped, and all hard drives had been destroyed by an electrical surge. The evidence pointed unmistakably to a calculated act of revenge orchestrated by William Devonshire.
The general's thoughts darkened. Some officials believed William had secretly made deals with certain werewolf clans. Why else would only the radical factions have been targeted during his purge of Europe's werewolves? The isolated and peaceful clans had been left untouched.
To him, it was clear: William's actions were deliberate, and the idea that he had no alliances with werewolves was hard to believe.
However, internal divisions within the U.S. government complicated any plans for retaliation. Some factions wanted revenge, while others feared provoking William further. After all, he had already demonstrated his willingness to kill high-ranking officials. There were whispers that, if pushed too far, William might resort to launching nuclear attacks on American soil.
Even worse, William wasn't even on Earth, making any counterstrike almost impossible. The idea of retaliating against his fiancée, Lena, was quickly dismissed as suicidal folly. No one wanted to risk provoking William into wiping out entire families again.
In the observation room, the general shook his head in frustration. Turning to the scientist, he asked, "How confident are you in replicating his genetic traits?"
The scientist hesitated before answering. "We've tried injecting his blood directly into test subjects over the past few days. While they do undergo similar transformations, there are complications.
"For reasons we don't fully understand, the subjects' strength diminishes rapidly—almost as if their energy gets depleted like a battery running out of power. Unless we extract more blood from Luke and reinject it, the subjects either become weak or lose all rationality, turning into full werewolves."
Hearing this, the general's hopes crumbled. "I knew it was a mistake to rely on these supernatural freaks. It's a waste of time and resources. Even if it worked, we'd just end up with a bunch of unstable monsters."
"Awwooo!"
A deafening roar from the containment chamber interrupted their conversation. Luke, now fully transformed, glared at them with a terrifying expression.
The lead scientist grimaced, realizing that their entire discussion had been transmitted through the intercom system into Luke's ears.
"Damn it! He heard everything!"
"Inject him with a sedative!"
But it was too late. Luke's body continued to grow, reaching a height of 2.5 meters. His muscles strained against the thick leather restraints, but the bindings held firm.
Watching from afar, William sighed in disappointment. "This is your so-called 'special specimen'? What a waste."
His eyes narrowed as he issued a new command to Sunday. "Activate the spiders inside Luke. Inject all the stored drugs. If he's going to die, at least let him die with some damn value."
(End of Chapter)
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