Teen Wolf: Second Howl

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Lucas's Perspective

The quiet that followed the impact wasn't really silence at all. It was heavy—a breath held by the world, lingering over shattered tombstones and broken ground. Dust and cemetery grit floated in the air, catching pale moonlight as the echoes faded. In front of me, a section of crumbling stone marked where the corrupted chimpanzee crashed. I could still hear its earlier scream ringing in my bones, a shriek twisted by madness, nothing like any sound a living thing should make.

The chimpanzee pushed itself up from the ruins, its fur matted with blood and dirt. One of its shoulders spasmed in jerky, unnatural tics, while its head snapped with involuntary shudders, almost as if it had to remind itself where its own limbs were. Then its eyes—strange, gold-flecked, full of wild, corrupted hunger—fixed on me. All trace of intelligence was lacquered over by something far more primal, something alien.

I stood my ground, muscles relaxed, but every sense within me focused on it, waiting for what came next.

With a sound halfway between roar and howl, the creature lunged. It was suddenly a blur, transformed by rage and animal ferocity—a living storm hurtling toward me. Its arms swung with the violence of wrecking balls, claws splayed wide, targeting my face with single-minded fury and hunger.

I readied myself as the attack closed the distance.

Breathe.

At the last instant—sidestep. My body flowed like water, slipping past the lethal arc of the creature's strike, letting its own momentum do the work.

As its right arm sliced through empty air, I snapped my hand around its wrist, fingers locking in a grip of steel. My other hand seized its upper arm and, with a single, practiced pivot, I bent with its momentum, channeling it downward—slamming the mutated animal into the ground. The shock rippled outwards, fractured earth grumbling under the brute force.

No time for the thing to find its breath, let alone scream again. I twisted its pinned arm in a single, efficient motion. There was a wet, nauseating crack—a sharp snap of bone and sinew that cut over the whimpers of the wind.

The corrupted chimpanzee let out a scream of agony, writhing and thrashing beneath me. Its legs flailed desperately, kicking at the air, claws scraping, but the damage was done.

Somehow, it managed to roll onto its belly, trying to drag itself away—body contorted, broken limb trailing uselessly. There was only panic left in its brutal movements, a desperate need to escape death.

But I was already moving, like a shadow in the moonlight. In a stride, I was upon it. My fingers closed around the back of its skull, rough fur slipping under my hand, then with one, savage rotation—I wrenched.

Its neck broke beneath my grip—a sound awful in its finality. Its body jolted once, then crumpled, twitching in the dust before sagging into stillness. The golden corruption in its eyes flickered, then died, leaving only emptiness.

But my work wasn't finished yet.

Moonlight shimmered on the claws I extended. I crouched and raked my claw across the creature's throat, making sure the wounds were ragged, torn, wild—savage enough that later, when someone found the body, it would seem the work of a mountain lion or perhaps a desperate bear.

I took in a long, steady breath. The coppery scent of blood was sharp in my nose.

Now, I turned my focus elsewhere.

Isaac.

A short distance away, Isaac lay sprawled in the cold grass, his arm bent at an odd angle. He wasn't moving much—only shallow, uneven breaths betraying that he was still clinging to life. My heart thudded as I rushed to his side, dropping to my knees beside him.

His eyelids trembled but stayed closed, and his breath rattled in his chest—brutally weak. I pressed my fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, barely, fluttering like a trapped bird.

I quickly checked his body for injuries. His right arm was obviously broken—bone jutting angrily beneath his sleeve—but that wasn't the worst of it. My senses, freed from the distraction of the fight, picked up something subtler. A scent that shouldn't have been there.

Just beneath his ribs, where dark stains bloomed on his skin, I caught the metallic tang of internal bleeding.

Damn it.

I cursed myself. I'd missed it. I'd been so focused on the chimpanzee, I didn't smell the slow death creeping through Isaac's body.

I studied his face, urgency gripping my insides. There wasn't any time to call for help, no chance for an ambulance to make it in time. I'd seen wounds like this before, knew how quickly a life could slip away. Seconds counted. Anything else would be too late.

I bit down, jaw clenched tight. I could feel my hand tremble, just once—a quick, involuntary spasm.

There was nothing left but the decision only I could make.

I reached for his arm, pulling the sleeve of his jacket back to expose his skin. My hands felt clumsy and huge somehow as I positioned his forearm, angling it carefully.

And then—no hesitation.

I sank my fangs into his flesh, piercing it cleanly, deliberately. This wasn't the frenzied bite of a predator—it was surgical, controlled. My teeth sliced in at just the right depth, just the right angle.

The second the skin broke, I felt it: the surge of power, my essence pushing out of me and into him, flooding his system. It happened fast, a torrent of my essence and will mingling with his, just for a heartbeat. Where I'd bitten, the wound shimmered faintly, glowing for a brief moment with otherworldly energy, then faded as quickly as it came.

I watched his chest for movement, desperate.

His heart fluttered—stuttered—then beat, strong and sure. Again, then again, each thump announcing that his body was fighting, alive for now.

I pulled back. Blood smeared my lips, my breath coming ragged with adrenaline. I wiped my mouth, eyes never leaving Isaac's face.

Now, all I could do was wait.

Wait to see if my bite would be enough to save him, or if I had just damned him to die, only in a different way.