The black hole of the shotgun's barrel is the only thing I see. My mind goes blank. There's no time to summon Anima. No energy. Sofía sobs behind me, a broken sound that drills into my soul.
I'm going to die. Here, between corridors of frozen meat, without having saved anyone.
Méndez tightens his finger on the trigger. His eyes crinkle above the mask in a cruel smile.
Click.
The sound is not a shot. It's the metallic snap of the ventilation hatch in the ceiling, right above Méndez.
Before the sergeant can look up, a shadow falls on him. It's not black smoke or dream-magic. It's dead weight, gravity and human fury.
A figure dressed in tactical black lands on Méndez's shoulders.
"Argh!" the sergeant roars, firing the shotgun at the ceiling by reflex.
Boom!
The blast is deafening in the enclosed chamber. The shot blows a lamp, plunging the room into dimness, lit only by the old TV's flickering blue light.
"Run, Eduur!" my instinct yells, but my legs don't respond.
The figure rolls across the floor and rises with feline agility. A woman. Short hair, dirty blonde, eyes like ice. A curved combat knife glints in her hand.
Dazed but furious, Méndez uses the shotgun like a club.
"Traitor bitch!" he bellows, throwing a blow that would have decapitated anyone.
The woman ducks, dodging the strike by millimeters, and lunges for the sergeant's thigh. The knife sinks in. Méndez screams, but he's a beast of a man; he drops the shotgun and grabs her by the vest, hurling her against the meat hooks.
"Mom!" Sofía cries behind me.
It's her. Lena. The mother. Not a kidnapped victim—she came to hunt.
---
The fight is brutal. No movie choreography. Just grunts, dull thuds, and blood splattering the frozen floor.
Lena is fast, lethal, but Méndez is a tank fueled by adrenaline and body fat.
"Get the girl out of here!" Lena spits blood and screams, kicking Méndez's knee.
I try to move. I grab Sofía's arm.
"Come on, little— we have to—"
Bang!
Méndez pulls a secondary pistol from his ankle holster. The shot is point-blank.
Lena arches back. The bullet rips into her right side, just under the ribs where the tactical vest doesn't cover. She falls, sliding across the frost stained red. The knife slips from her hand.
"No!" I shout.
Méndez, panting, thigh bleeding, now levels his gun at Lena's head.
"The family reunion is over."
Time freezes. I see Lena on the floor pressing her wound, life leaking through her fingers. I see Sofía paralyzed with horror.
If she dies, Sofía is left alone. If she dies, I'm next. I can't summon Anima. I don't have the strength. But I remember what Anima did minutes ago. I remember the Transfer.
You don't need the monster to be a parasite, a dark voice whispers in my head. You only need hunger.
I don't think. I feel. Desperation breaks my moral compass.
I lunge forward—not to hit, but to touch.
---
Méndez turns toward me, surprised by my stupidity.
"You too—?"
I don't let him finish. I crash into him, narrowly missing the pistol barrel by pure luck, and slam my left hand—the hand marked by Anima—onto his chest, right over his heart. Simultaneously I drop to my knees and place my right hand on Lena's open wound.
"Steal it!" I command my own mind.
I close my eyes and visualize the flow. It's not smoke. It's hot liquid. It's fire.
I feel Méndez's heartbeat under my palm—strong, rhythmic. And then, I pull. It's like drinking ice water after days in the desert.
"AAAAAHHHH!" Méndez emits a scream that is almost inhuman. His eyes roll back. His gun falls to the floor.
I feel his vitality pour into me. It's filthy, violent, full of adrenaline and hate. It burns my veins, floods my chest with an intoxicating power. But I don't keep it. I push it toward my right hand. Toward Lena.
I open my eyes. Lena stares at me. Her pupils are dilated, fixed on mine. When Méndez's energy enters her body she arches and lets out a strangled sound—not of pain, but of a sharp inhalation of pure life.
Our eyes lock. In that second there are no shots, no cold, no girl—only the two of us connected by a circuit of death and life. I feel her shock, her fear, and then… an electric, intimate, almost obscene gratitude. It's as if we're sharing the same breath, the same blood.
The wound at her side begins to knit. Flesh closes, skin unites. Méndez, by contrast, withers. His skin turns grayish. His knees give out. He collapses backward, unconscious, like a dead battery.
I break the contact.
I fall back, gasping, heart pounding. I look at my hands. They tremble. I feel… powerful. Incredible. And that terrifies me more than the shotgun.
---
Silence returns to the freezer, broken only by the TV's hum.
Lena rises slowly. She feels her side. Her shirt is torn and soaked in blood, but underneath, the skin is pink and new. She looks at me—not as a civilian nuisance anymore, but as if I were a nuclear bomb with no timer.
"What… what are you?" she whispers, voice hoarse.
"I don't know," I answer—the most honest thing I've spoken in years.
Sofía runs to her. "Mommy!"
Lena hugs the girl tight, but her eyes never leave mine. Fear is there, yes, but also a dark fascination. I just violated the laws of nature for her. That creates a debt. And a bond.
"We have to go," she says, regaining her professional coldness in a blink. She picks up her knife and Méndez's pistol. "The Syndicate has reinforcements on the way. This place will be a hornet's nest in five minutes."
I stand. My legs don't hurt anymore. The energy stolen from Méndez left a residue of borrowed vigor.
"Who are they?" I ask, pointing to the unconscious sergeant. "Why does the police work with them?"
"They're not the police," Lena pushes me toward the exit. "It's worse. Méndez is just a watchdog. The Syndicate looks for… talents. Like yours. Or Sofía's."
I pause a second.
"Sofía?"
"Later. Walk or you die."
We leave the freezer. Lena moves with military efficiency, clearing corners. I carry Sofía—she clings to my neck like a koala.
We pass through the slaughterhouse corridors. I see the bodies of the thugs Anima left behind. Lena looks at them, then at me.
"You made quite a mess for a student," she says.
"I've got help," I murmur.
"I hope your 'help' knows how to dodge bullets, because we're stepping into the wolf's mouth."
---
We reach the main loading exit. Night air hits our faces. Freedom is a few meters away. The alley is dark.
"I've got a car two blocks away," Lena whispers. "If we make it, we vanish."
We take two steps into the street.
Then the world floods with light.
Red and blue lights explode in the darkness, blinding us. Sirens scream. Three patrol cars block the alley exit.
Lena raises her gun instinctively, shielding Sofía with her body. "Shit."
A familiar figure steps down from the central patrol. Lieutenant Vargas—the man who searched my home. He's not aiming his weapon. His hands are raised, palms showing.
"Drop your weapons!" Vargas shouts, voice tight but controlled. "Vance! I know you're there! Don't shoot!"
Lena looks at me, taut as a wire.
"Is he your friend?"
"He interrogated me this morning. He suspected me."
"Then he's the enemy," she says, adjusting her finger on the trigger.
"Wait!" Vargas shouts again. "Sergeant Méndez is on the Syndicate's payroll! If you go back in there, they'll kill you! I have proof! Come with me if you want to live!"
I look at Vargas. He seems desperate. I look at Lena. She's ready to kill three cops to save her daughter. I look at my hands, still tingling with the stolen energy.
If Vargas is a trap, we're dead. If he's real, he's our only way out.
But then I see something behind Vargas. In the shadows, behind the patrol cars. A tall silhouette. Too tall. With eyes that glow red—identical to Anima's in the mirror. The silhouette smiles and brings a finger to its lips.
Shhh.
My blood runs cold. That thing… it's not Anima. That thing is real. And it's behind the police.
"Lena…" I whisper, stepping back. "It's not the police I'm worried about."
"What?"
I point at the shadow behind the lights.
"We have company. And they aren't human."