Hunted

That stare… it was enough to kill anyone from the inside.... The hunger burning in those silver eyes was undeniable, primal. It wasn't just a look; it was a promise of death. Even Mason, my brave friend, was paralyzed by it. His hand trembled on my shoulder, his voice a fragile thread of fear, whispering my name repeatedly, "Jason… Jason…" His grip was tight, but his courage had frozen.

But me? I was somewhere else entirely—lost in a chasm carved by vengeance. Something inside me snapped, a fragile thread of sanity recoiling into darkness. My lips curled into a grin, and then, the laughter erupted—wild, unhinged, echoing through the night like the cry of the damned.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The laughter died abruptly, replaced by a dead calm. My face hardened, shadows dancing across my features under the dim, broken moonlight. My voice was a vow carved in stone, cold and final.

"I will kill you."

PRESENT

"I will kill you," I snarled, eyes locked on Mathew. The words were the same, but the weight behind them was heavier now, carved by years of scars and rage.

MEMORY

I rose from my knees, the ache of loss fueling every movement. Blood roared in my ears, drowning out Mason's whispers.

"I won't forgive any of you," I growled at the werewolf, my voice sharp as broken glass.

PRESENT

Pain pulsed through my body, but vengeance numbed it. I forced myself upright, the memory bleeding into reality.

"I won't forgive any of you," I spat, my gaze burning into Mathew's twisted snarl.

MEMORY

Rage consumed me, a wildfire with no intent to spare.

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

My scream split the night, raw and animalistic. The werewolf roared back, charging, claws gleaming under the moonlight. It leapt, a predator mid-air, shadow swallowing light.

PRESENT

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

The words burst from me, an echo from the past colliding with the now. Mathew roared in return, muscles rippling as he lunged, fangs bared, his monstrous form suspended mid-air, a nightmare brought to life.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I screamed, my fist clenched with every ounce of rage, grief, and vengeance that had been festering inside me for years.

Mathew was just inches away now—his claws gleaming, mouth wide, ready to rip me apart. The werewolf from my past and Mathew from my present overlapped, their snarls merging into one terrifying growl.

And then—

CRACK!

My punch connected with Mathew's face, the force of it like an explosion. His head snapped back violently, a sickening sound of bone shattering filling the air. Blood sprayed, dark and thick, as his nose caved in, breaking under the fury of my strike.

Mathew's body spiraled mid-air, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. He howled in agony, his hands clutching his ruined face.

His nose—broken.

His senses—crippled.

His smelling powers—gone.

I stood there, my chest heaving, my fist dripping with blood, staring down at him, the rage still burning like an unquenchable fire.

"I did it - I did it," I whispered to myself, a faint smile creeping onto my face. But that smile faded quickly as my legs trembled, and I collapsed to my knees again, gasping for breath.

I had used every ounce of energy inside me to land that punch—a punch strong enough to break the face of a werewolf who stood seven inches taller than me.

Pain surged through my chest, sharp and unbearable. The world blurred for a moment, and I realized it was the impact of Mathew's earlier kick that was catching up with me. The damage was deeper than I thought.

Bones broken. Not just in my chest, but in my fingers too, shattered from the force of that devastating punch.

I knew I couldn't fight them all. Not like this. Especially not now when I looked at their eyes.

Their eyes— Their yellow eyes.

The Elite Stage.

GUIDANCE: The Elite Stage is the third evolutionary stage for werewolves, achieved only by the most disciplined and battle-hardened warriors. In this stage, a werewolf's physical strength, speed, reflexes, and healing capabilities are enhanced by 50%, making them far more dangerous than regular and Hunter werewolves. Identifiable by their glowing yellow eyes, Elite werewolves are often recruited into the Special Division—an elite unit tasked with high-risk missions and covert operations. Achieving this stage requires years of relentless training, brutal combat experience, and mental fortitude. Not every werewolf can reach this level; it demands an extraordinary blend of skill, resilience, and sheer willpower.

I knew it, I can't fight them especially with the broken chest and without my gears.

'What should I do now?' I said to myself.

'Should I run? What about Ella? They just called her a traitor. What if I run? What will her pack do to her?' I questioned myself, my face twisted with terror and fear. I looked at her—her face mirrored my own fear, her eyes begging for my life. She couldn't speak or move, desperately wanting to help me but powerless to act.

'I'll not run. I'll fight them. I will kill them. I WILL KILL THEMMMMMMMMM!' I screamed inside my head, forcing myself to stand up again, summoning every last drop of strength and energy left within me.

Suddenly—

KRAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

I felt it.

Something struck my back. Hard.

A kick. But not from a human. I could tell from the sheer force of it.

It was Eduardo, a member of Team 2. (Your mom told me his name, by the way.)

The kick hit me with such ferocity that I didn't even hear his footsteps approaching from behind. Or maybe I was so lost in my thoughts, I forgot I was still in the middle of a battlefield.

FWOOOSH!

Before I could blink, my body was airborne, flung like a rag doll. I crashed into the ground with unimaginable speed, the impact shattering the remaining bones in my chest.

"Hey, you bastard! I told every one of you to stay away—he's mine!" I heard Mathew shouting at his comrades, his voice dripping with rage.

"Mark wasn't just your friend. He was a friend and leader to us too," Eduardo snapped back.

I remember they were yelling at each other, but the words faded into a distant echo. Suddenly, my ears stopped working. Silence swallowed the chaos.

'What is happening to me?' I whispered to myself, trying to move.

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!' I screamed inside my mind, pouring every ounce of willpower into my body—but I couldn't move.

'What is happening to me?' I repeated, fear creeping in as the realization hit me.

I was paralyzed.

That kick. That brutal kick broke my backbone.

'Am I paralyzed?' The words echoed in my mind, trembling with terror.

'Is it coming? The final moment?' Lying prone, helpless, I suddenly felt someone grab my torn shirt from the back, yanking me up into the air.

It was Mathew.

My body dangled like a lifeless puppet, bones shattered, pain beyond comprehension.

"So, every bone in your body is broken now, huh?" Mathew sneered.

He threw me down again, face-first into the ground, then straddled me. Tearing a strip from my ruined shirt, he wiped the blood from his nose, growling, "You disgust me, human. How could you imagine beating the six of us?"

Then, he spat on my face, his claws extending like deadly blades.

I could see death coming.

'So it's here. I did it,' I thought, a strange mix of fear and peace washing over me.

For one last time, I tried to turn my head to see your helpless mom—but I couldn't. Still, I knew what she must've been feeling...

Death.

The death of her soul.

In a flash, Mathew raised his hand and, with the speed of lightning, plunged his claws into my chest, wrapping them around my heart.

That moment—

That relieving moment of death—it made me smile for the last time, like an evil grin etched into the face of a man who defied fate.

KRICH!

He crushed it.

He crushed my heart with his bare hands.

The only words I remembered as darkness swallowed me were:

"Finally... he's hunted," Mathew whispered.

END OF JASON'S POV

To be continued....