Teen Wolf: Second Howl

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Lucas's Perspective

It was nearing midnight, and the estate was silent, resting under the heavy blanket of darkness.

Most of the lights had already been extinguished, save for the soft lights of the few lanterns in the garden—their fragile glow barely holding its own against the shadows. The familiar chorus of nocturnal life stirred gently in the background: the rhythmic chirp of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of unseen creatures moving through grass and underbrush. Beacon Hills was quiet in the way that only nighttime allowed—a hush so deep it felt sacred.

I cracked open the window of my bedroom. A sharp gust of night air rushed in, hitting me full in the face. It was cold—clean in a way that almost stung.

Without hesitation, I stepped up onto the windowsill, crouched low like a predator about to pounce, and dropped.

Years of practice had made me weightless, almost untouchable. I was a shade sliding through the moonlit landscape.

I stayed just outside the narrow reach of the porch's sensor lights, slipping past beams of surveillance like water flowing around a stone. I could picture the camera feeds panning, the blinking dots and red lines following their endless routines. Susan had invested in the very best security system money could buy, but tonight it didn't matter. I'd spent years learning how to avoid being seen; no human invention could catch me if I didn't want to be caught.

Tonight, I was hunting.

The night air was thick with scent, every molecule humming with layered signals. I caught pine needles crushed underfoot, the acrid tang of car exhaust from the main road, and somewhere in the distance, the smoky remains of someone's backyard barbecue clinging to the wind like a memory.

And then there was blood.

Old blood.

It was faint—almost a ghost of a scent—but distinct. Metallic. Sour. A trace of something wounded and long gone. My senses honed in on it like a needle to the thread, guiding me eastward, toward the wooded stretch beyond the high school.

I moved swiftly, my feet gliding over earth and asphalt alike, every step measured and deliberate. The world blurred around me.

And then—suddenly I stopped. Eyes narrowed against the darkness.

I wasn't alone.

Two figures moved in the darkness up ahead, both moving with clear purpose, every motion deliberate and charged with quiet intensity.

Derek Hale and Malia.

Of course. The Hales were already on the trail. I shouldn't have been surprised.

Derek was leading, his broad shoulders tense, head low to the ground as he inhaled the scent trail with sharp, practiced breaths. Malia flanked him, twitchy and restless, her energy on edge like she was already halfway to losing patience.

I dropped low, crouching into the underbrush, making sure to stay downwind. The night wrapped around me like a cloak. I became part of the forest—silent, still, watching. They passed no more than twenty yards away, their eyes never drifting in my direction.

They didn't see me. They didn't sense me.

I waited until they'd disappeared from sight, their footsteps swallowed by distance, then rose slowly and continued forward, deeper into the trees.

It wasn't long before I reached the spot—the place where the Sheriff's department had found what little was left of the deer.

Now, there was almost nothing.

Only a stain: dark, dried blood soaked deep into the dirt, more black than red in the moonlight. Around it, the bark on several trees had been scored, deep claw marks slicing through the trunks like the forest itself had been attacked.

I knelt by the blood and inhaled slowly, letting the scent fill me.

There.

Just beneath the rot and the decay, something lingered.

It wasn't just the smell of death. It was something more—something wrong. A feeling that turned the air thick, heavy with unease. The blood still held the memory of violence, but also something unnatural. It had been twisted, corrupted.

I stood and followed the trail.

It was almost nothing—thin as mist, nearly gone with the wind—but I followed anyway. Step after step, deeper into shadow, until the path led me somewhere I should have expected but still hoped to avoid.

The cemetery.

Because of course it would lead here.

The gates rose in front of me like the jaws of some long-dead beast, their iron bars twisted and black against the night sky. Without slowing, I leapt clean over them, landing silently in the tall grass among the gravestones.

The scent grew stronger.

I didn't have to search long.

A sound sliced through the stillness—wet, ragged breathing.

Then, a scream. Human. Weak. Terrified.

I took off running, weaving between cracked headstones and overgrown pathways until I reached the source.

Underneath a crumbling angel statue—its wings chipped and one arm missing—something monstrous crouched in the dark.

A chimpanzee.

Or what had once been one.

Its body was too large, warped and hunched in unnatural proportions. Patches of fur were missing, its exposed skin thick and calloused. Its eyes glowed yellow with madness, reflecting the moonlight like twin coins dipped in poison.

Blood clung to its hands, thick and dripping, coating its fingers like gloves.

And beneath it—Isaac Lahey.

He was pinned, chest heaving in pain, face pale. One arm bent at an unnatural angle. He tried to move but couldn't. He was helpless.

The creature raised its clawed hand, ready to bring it crashing down onto his skull.

Behind them, sprawled awkwardly against a cracked mausoleum wall, was a man's corpse—his limbs twisted in ways no living body could survive. I didn't need to get closer to recognize what remained of the face.

Mr. Lahey. Isaac's father.

Neck snapped. Eyes glassy. Dead.

And just as the beast's claws came down—

I struck.

I launched myself from behind a tall gravestone, moving faster than it could register. One foot slammed into its ribcage, the impact loud and final. The corrupted chimpanzee flew backward with the force of a cannon blast, its body crashing through a mausoleum wall in an explosion of stone and bone.

The dust hadn't even settled when I stood in front of Isaac, my fists clenched, eyes burning red in the dark.

I stared into the shadows where the creature had landed.

So this was it.

And now?

Now it was mine to deal with.