"Surprise ," Ethan said, stepping out with an almost bored smile.
Wednesday, Rowan, and even the monster froze—three pairs of eyes locked on him as if he had just stepped out of thin air.
The monster didn't freeze.
It hissed, muscles bunching under its mottled skin. The moment it recognized Ethan, its face twisted in fury. It slashed with its left hand, claws slicing toward Ethan's neck with a vicious shrrkk.
Ethan's body blurred—gone.
And in the same instant, Rowan vanished from the ground and reappeared beside Wednesday, wobbling but upright, Ethan's grip steadying him.
"Do you honestly think you can touch me?" Ethan asked, tone light, almost amused. "You're slower than a dying snail."
The Hyde's roar exploded through the woods.
GRRRAAAAHHHH!
The sound rattled branches and sent crows shrieking into the night sky.
Ethan didn't flinch.
"Funny thing," he continued calmly, "people say barking dogs don't bite. Guess roaring monsters can't do much either."
Rowan stared at him like Ethan had just insulted a loaded gun at point-blank range.
Even in the Outcast world, this type of monsters were nightmares.
And this idiot—this absolute madman—was provoking one on purpose.
The Hyde snapped.
It lunged, claws tearing up soil, jaws wide with a gurgling RRRAAGH!
Ethan disappeared —one blink, gone—and reappeared directly in front of the monster.
His fist rose.
Then—
BOOM.
The uppercut connected with a sickening, wet CRACK, a shockwave bursting through the clearing.
Blood misted the air.
The Hyde's head snapped upward, body lifting clean off the ground before it was launched back like a rag doll.
It smashed into a tree with enough force to split the trunk, bark flying in splinters. A smear of dark, thick blood streaked down the wood.
Ethan shook out his hand casually.
He hadn't used his full fifty-ton punch—if he had, the Hyde's head would've burst like a grotesque piñata.
Twenty percent was all he'd needed.
The monster groaned—an ugly, bubbling sound—then dragged itself upright.
It cast Ethan a look full of primal hatred… and fear.
Then it turned and bolted, crashing through the trees in a panicked retreat.
"What… what is that thing?" Rowan asked, voice trembling.
Ethan glanced at him, brows lifting. "Wow. You're still conscious? Impressive."
"What do you—" Rowan stopped as Ethan pointed to his abdomen.
Only then did Rowan look down.
Blood was soaking through his shirt, dripping in steady, warm rivulets between his fingers. The sight hit him a second too late—his brain went white, the adrenaline crash slamming into him like a truck. His knees buckled.
He hit the ground with a dull thud.
"Yeah," Ethan muttered, crouching beside him. "Adrenaline kept him on his feet. That's gone now."
Wednesday barely spared Rowan a glance; her eyes were fixed on the direction the monster had vanished, the woods swallowing its shape entirely. Her fingers tightened around the old sketch Rowan had thrust at her—the drawing from twenty-five years ago.
"So that's the creature in the woods," Wednesday said, voice low but steady, piecing the puzzle together. "The same one from my vision."
She looked down at the drawing again—aged paper, fading ink, her own face staring back at her from years before she was even born.
A monster stalking the forest.
A prophecy of mass destruction.
And now Ethan—this strange, irritating, smug vampire with supernatural strength that absolutely did not match what any vampire should have—standing there like this was a mild inconvenience.
Wednesday's lips curved the slightest fraction.
"This case," she murmured, "just became far more interesting."
"Told you the festival would be worth attending."
Ethan bent down and hooked an arm under Rowan's limp body, lifting him with effortless ease. Blood smeared across his sleeve, warm and sticky—Rowan didn't have much time. Even an Outcast would bleed out at this rate.
"Where are you going?" Wednesday asked, eyes narrowing.
"Hospital," Ethan replied without looking back. "Can't you see I have a patient?"
He started walking, Rowan hanging unconscious against his shoulder like a rag doll.
Wednesday's boots crunched on the leaves as she followed a few steps. "You're avoiding the question."
"What question?"
"How you knew this would happen." Her tone was flat, but the implication was razor-sharp.
Ethan paused mid-stride, turning his head just enough for the moonlight to catch his smirk.
"Didn't you know, Wednesday?" he said. "A man with secrets is attractive."
Wednesday stared, unimpressed.
Ethan chuckled. "And besides—wouldn't you rather uncover it on your own?"
Wednesday didn't bother following Ethan. Rowan bleeding out in his arms was a problem—just not her problem. She had far more pressing matters than babysitting an unconscious telekinetic and an overconfident vampire.
She slipped the drawing deeper into her coat and turned toward the distant glow of the festival lights.
There was only one logical next step.
Notify the police.
And she would make sure Ethan Corvin landed directly on their investigation list. She was certain he was linked to that creature somehow—because there was no logical explanation for how he predicted its appearance so precisely.