Chapter 4: Shadows of the Hunt

Lucas paced back and forth in his sleek, dimly lit office, the glow of the city's skyline shimmering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room smelled faintly of leather and whiskey, though neither brought him comfort anymore. A monitor mounted on the wall displayed a grim scene: static-filled footage of a forest clearing, littered with the torn remains of his men—the Cleaners. The camera feed cut off abruptly, replaced by a red banner that read: Signal Lost.

"Damn it!" Lucas slammed his fist on the mahogany desk, rattling the tumbler of untouched whiskey beside him.

"Sir," a voice crackled through his intercom. It was Marcus, his second-in-command, his tone unusually tight with fear. "The creature... it's more dangerous than we anticipated. None of the Cleaners made it back. We—we lost them all."

Lucas clenched his jaw, suppressing the wave of panic threatening to choke him. The Cleaners weren't just mercenaries; they were highly trained operatives who specialized in hunting and eliminating biological anomalies. If they couldn't handle the creature, what chance did anyone else have?

"Any updates on its location?" Lucas growled, sitting down heavily in his leather chair.

"Not yet, sir. The last sighting was near the outskirts of Elmwood Town, but we suspect it's moving. Fast."

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't supposed to happen. The creature was meant to be contained—a controlled experiment, a demonstration of power to solidify his influence in the corporate world. Now, it had turned into a liability, and liabilities had a way of attracting attention.

He pulled out a sleek, black passport from his desk drawer and stared at it. An escape plan he'd prepared long ago, just in case. But using it now meant admitting failure. It meant leaving behind years of work and connections.

"Sir, should I arrange for extraction?" Marcus asked hesitantly.

Lucas hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, but something inside him resisted. If he left now, the creature would continue its rampage, potentially exposing secrets he couldn't afford to let out. Still, the image of the Cleaners' shredded remains was burned into his mind, a stark warning of what could happen if he stayed.

"Prepare the jet," he said finally, his voice cold. "But keep it on standby. I'll decide soon."

He ended the call and stared out the window, his reflection barely visible against the night sky. The decision weighed heavily on him. Was it cowardice or self-preservation?

The creature was out there, and it was coming for him.

Lucas stood before his desk, tucking the passport into the inner pocket of his tailored jacket. His decision was made. The creature was beyond his control, and staying in the city would only make him its next target.

"Marcus," he barked into the intercom, "the car should be ready. Make sure the driver is waiting. No delays."

"Yes, sir," came the quick reply.

Grabbing a slim briefcase from a hidden compartment beneath his desk, Lucas gave one final glance at the monitor. The static feed mocked him, a reminder of his failure. He cursed under his breath and strode out of the office, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor.

The car, a sleek black sedan, was waiting in the underground garage. The driver, an older man with graying hair and an emotionless expression, opened the door as Lucas approached.

"Get me to the airstrip," Lucas ordered, sliding into the back seat.

The car purred to life and glided smoothly onto the empty streets. The city was unnervingly quiet at this hour, the occasional streetlight casting shadows that flickered like ghosts. Lucas leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to suppress the gnawing guilt clawing at his mind.

But his respite was short-lived. The car screeched to a halt, jolting him forward.

"What the hell—?" Lucas snapped, straightening himself as he peered out the window.

Standing in the middle of the road, illuminated by the car's headlights, was Eva. Her dark coat billowed in the wind, and her eyes burned with a mixture of anger and sadness.

"Sir, should I—" the driver began, but Lucas cut him off.

"Stay here."

He stepped out of the car, the cool night air biting at his skin.

"What are you doing here, Eva?" Lucas asked, his voice cold but steady.

"I could ask you the same thing," Eva shot back, taking a step closer. "Running away? After everything you've done?"

Lucas stiffened. "This isn't your concern."

"It became my concern the moment you unleashed that... thing," she said, her voice rising. "People are dead, Lucas. And you're just leaving?"

"It's called survival," Lucas retorted. "You don't understand the stakes here, Eva. This creature—"

"I understand perfectly," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "I warned you. I told you this would happen. But you didn't listen. You never listen!"

Lucas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't a debate. I have no time for your moral grandstanding."

"You're a coward," Eva spat, her words laced with venom. "You create chaos and then run when it spirals out of control. Is that all you are, Lucas?"

The words hit harder than Lucas cared to admit. His jaw tightened as he took a step toward her, his presence towering and imposing.

"Watch your tone," he warned.

But Eva didn't back down. Instead, her expression softened, the fire in her eyes replaced by something else—something that looked suspiciously like disappointment.

"I used to think there was more to you," she said quietly. "That somewhere beneath all this... power and arrogance, there was a man who cared. I guess I was wrong."

Lucas hesitated, the weight of her words cutting deeper than he expected. For a brief moment, he considered saying something—anything—that might make her stay.

But before he could, Eva turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

Lucas stood there, rooted to the spot, his fists clenched at his sides. The sound of the car door opening snapped him out of his daze.

"Sir?" the driver called hesitantly.

Lucas took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. Without a word, he climbed back into the car, his face an unreadable mask.

"Drive," he ordered.

As the sedan sped off toward the airstrip, Lucas stared out the window, his reflection distorted in the glass. The emptiness inside him felt heavier than ever.

As Eva walked through the deserted streets, her thoughts swirling with guilt and determination, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The sharp vibration broke through the stillness of the night. She glanced at the screen: Evelyn. She hesitated for a moment, then answered.

"Evelyn?" Eva said, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

"Eva..." Evelyn's voice was faint, strained, and laced with fear. Eva immediately stiffened. "Please... you have to help me. I... I don't know how much longer I can—"

The words were interrupted by a loud crashing noise in the background. Eva's grip on the phone tightened.

"Evelyn, what's happening? Where are you?" she demanded, her voice rising in urgency.

"I... I think it's here... Elena tried to warn me, but—" Evelyn's voice cracked, and Eva could hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps, fast and heavy, as if someone—or something—was chasing her.

"Evelyn!" Eva shouted, but the line crackled with static.

"I'm sorry, Eva... Tell Elena I tried..." Evelyn's voice was barely a whisper now, drowned out by a guttural growl that sent chills down Eva's spine. Then, silence.

Eva stared at her phone, her hand trembling. A cold wave of dread washed over her as she realized Evelyn's phone had disconnected.

She took a deep breath, her mind racing. Whatever had happened to Evelyn, it wasn't over. And Eva knew she couldn't waste another second.