The warehouse district had been abandoned for a decade, a graveyard of industrial ambition. Building 47 squatted among its fellows like a predator at rest, windowless and foreboding. Stewart parked three blocks away, as instructed by the text message that had come through at noon. Walk the rest. Let them smell you coming.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of blood. Stewart's enhanced senses picked up traces he'd never have noticed before. Scent markers. Territorial signs. This wasn't just a meeting place. This was their hunting ground.
The warehouse door stood open. Inside, sodium lights cast everything in sickly yellow. Forty people, maybe fifty, occupied the space. Men and women of every age and description, but they all shared one thing: an intensity, a presence that set Stewart's new instincts screaming.
Pack.
Rowan stood on a platform at the far end, Marlene beside him. When Stewart entered, every head turned. The silence was absolute. Crushing. He forced himself to keep walking.
Brothers and sisters, Rowan's voice carried effortlessly. Our newest member. Stewart Lennox, an old friend. I've known him since we were children. I trust him. And in three days, he'll run with us.
A ripple went through the crowd. Not hostility exactly, but evaluation. Testing. A man near the front, massive and scarred, stepped forward. He's weak. I can smell it on him. Fresh meat.
Gabriel. Rowan's tone carried a warning. He's under my protection.
Your protection doesn't make him pack. That comes through blood and strength. Gabriel moved closer to Stewart. What do you say, fresh meat? You ready to prove yourself?
Stewart's wolf stirred, rising to the challenge before his human mind could process it. I'm here, aren't I?
Gabriel laughed. Got some spine at least. Good. You'll need it.
Others came forward then, introducing themselves or simply staring. Marcus, a wiry man with nervous energy. Julia, who looked like a soccer mom but moved like a dancer. Thomas, barely out of his teens, eager and aggressive. Each one tested Stewart in small ways. Standing too close. Making him hold their gaze. Seeing if he'd break.
Marlene saved him, stepping off the platform. That's enough. He hasn't even had his first change yet. Give him space.
The crowd backed off, but Stewart felt their attention like physical pressure. These people were predators. Killers. And now he was one of them.
Rowan called the meeting to order. What followed was part business briefing, part war council. Territory disputes with a rival pack called the Northside Collective. Real estate acquisitions that needed muscle. A hunter who'd been asking questions near their businesses on Fifth Street. The pack discussed it all with casual efficiency, like they were planning a corporate merger instead of violence.
The hunter is a problem, Rowan said. Marcus, I want eyes on him twenty four seven. If he gets too close, we handle it quietly.
Kill him?
Only if necessary. Dead hunters attract more hunters. Make him think he's wrong. Make him move on.
And if he doesn't?
Rowan's smile was cold. Then we make him disappear.
Stewart's stomach churned. This was murder they were discussing. Casual, calculated murder. He tried to tell himself he was different, that he wouldn't become like them, but the wolf inside him stirred with approval. Threats needed to be eliminated. The pack needed to be protected.
After the meeting, smaller groups formed. People eating, talking, some play fighting with alarming intensity. Stewart stood apart until Julia approached, carrying two beers.
First meeting is overwhelming, she said, handing him one. I remember mine. Wanted to run screaming.
Why didn't you?
Same reason you won't. Nowhere to run to. She took a long drink. I was turned eight years ago. Car accident. Rowan's driver hit me. Instead of calling an ambulance, he called Rowan. I was dying. The bite saved my life.
Did you want it?
Does it matter? I'm here. I'm alive. And my kids are in private school now instead of foster care. Julia's eyes met his. This life isn't what I would have chosen. But it's better than being dead. Better than being poor and powerless. The pack provides. The pack protects. As long as you remember that, you'll be fine.
Thomas joined them, cocky and aggressive. Fresh meat. You ever been in a real fight?
I've fought.
Not like this you haven't. When the moon rises, when you change, it's like nothing you can imagine. Pure instinct. Pure rage. First time, you won't have control. You'll want to hunt, to kill, to feed. Thomas grinned. Rowan usually takes the new ones out to the preserve. Let you tear apart some deer, work out the bloodlust before you hurt someone important.
What if I don't want to kill anything?
Then you're gonna have a bad time. The wolf doesn't care what you want. It wants blood.
Marlene interrupted, pulling Stewart away. Ignore Thomas. He's an idiot. But he's not wrong about the first change. It's violent. Painful. And yes, you'll want to hunt. But Rowan and I will be with you. We'll make sure you don't do anything you'll regret.
Too late for that.
Is it? Marlene led him outside, away from the crowd. The night air felt good after the oppressive atmosphere inside. You think you made a mistake. But look at what you've gained. Your family will never starve again. Your wife will never have to choose between medicine and food. Your son will get an education. Your daughter will grow up safe.
At what cost?
Everything has a cost, Stewart. The question is whether you're willing to pay it.
A howl split the night. Then another. From inside the warehouse, the pack was answering some primal call. Stewart felt it tug at something deep inside him, something that wanted to join in. Wanted to be part of that chorus.
Two more days, Marlene said. Then you'll understand. Then you'll be one of us completely.
She left him there, alone with the moon and the distant howls. Stewart thought about Claire, safe at home with the kids. Thought about the money already appearing in his account, three month's salary deposited that afternoon. Thought about the contract with its promises of security and threats of death.
He pulled out his phone and almost called his wife. Almost told her everything. But what would he say? What words existed for this nightmare?
A black SUV pulled up. The window rolled down. Gabriel at the wheel. Get in. Rowan wants you to see something.
What?
Our real work. The part that pays for all those fancy benefits.
Stewart climbed in. Three others were in the vehicle, silent and watchful. Gabriel drove fast, weaving through late evening traffic. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to an upscale apartment building. One of Rowan's properties, Gabriel explained. Rent controlled apartments that the city wouldn't let him redevelop.
Old tenant died, Gabriel said. Family is fighting the eviction. Rowan tried the legal route. Now we try our route.
They went in through the service entrance. Up to the eighth floor. Gabriel picked the lock with casual ease. Inside, a family was eating dinner. Father, mother, teenage daughter. The father looked up as they entered and his face went white.
You need to leave, Gabriel said. Tonight. Sign the papers. Take the settlement. And go.
We have rights, the father said, voice shaking. You can't just...
Gabriel moved faster than should have been possible. He had the father by the throat, lifting him off his feet. You have until morning. Then we come back and we're not so nice.
The mother was screaming. The daughter had her phone out, trying to call the police. Marcus snatched it away, crushed it in his hand like it was paper.
Morning, Gabriel repeated. Then they left, the family's terrified cries following them down the hall.
In the SUV, Stewart's hands were shaking. We just terrorized innocent people.
We convinced problem tenants to take a generous settlement, Gabriel corrected. No one got hurt. Everyone walks away with money in their pocket. That's a good night.
That's extortion.
That's business. The human world, the wolf world, it all runs on the same principles. Power. Territory. Dominance. Gabriel pulled back into traffic. You'll learn. Or you'll die. Either way, the pack moves on.
They dropped Stewart back at his car near midnight. He sat in the driver's seat, key in the ignition, unable to make himself turn it. This was his life now. Intimidation. Violence. Predation. All dressed up in suits and legal language, but fundamentally the same as any pack of animals carving out territory.
His phone buzzed. Claire.
Are you okay? You've been gone for hours.
I'm fine. Just got caught up in orientation stuff. I'll be home soon.
Stewart, I'm proud of you. I know this is scary, but we're going to make it now. We're actually going to make it.
The hope in her voice broke something inside him. Yeah. We're going to make it.
He drove home through streets that felt foreign now, dangerous in ways he'd never noticed before. Tomorrow was Sunday. One more day before the full moon rose. One more day before he became something new.
One more day of being human.