Chapter 3 Out of Control

Jack's fingertips dug into the table, his knuckles turning white. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. His blood boiled, his bones twisted under an unseen force, and his muscles tensed—pain mixed with an unfamiliar, almost intoxicating pleasure spreading through his body.

Aisha didn't move. Her hand remained in her pocket, gripping something tightly. Her gaze was locked onto Jack, as if she was weighing her options.

Jack panted, his voice hoarse. "…Leave. Now."

Aisha didn't comply. Her fingers slowly traced the silver bullet on her chain, her expression calm yet piercing. "If I leave, what will you do?"

Jack's pupils contracted slightly.

"Will you kill—just like in your dreams?" Aisha's voice was low, steady. "Or… will you kill me?"

A sharp wave of pain tore through him. Jack clutched his head, his nails digging deep into his skin. Hallucinations flooded his mind—bloodstained moonlight, shattered bodies, the shadow of a hunter… and Aisha, lying lifeless in a pool of blood.

His eyes snapped open, glowing crimson.

No. He couldn't—

"Jack." Aisha's voice cut through the chaos clawing at his mind. "If you really are a werewolf, then control yourself."

Jack's breath hitched.

He stared at her, the deafening roars in his head briefly silenced. His entire body trembled, every bone in him felt like it was shifting. But Aisha's words—her voice, her eyes—pierced through his deepest, most hidden fear.

She wasn't afraid of him. She was forcing him to choose.

—Are you a hunter, or a monster?

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from outside.

Aisha's expression shifted instantly. She stood up and grabbed Jack, pulling him behind the bookshelves.

"What's going on?" Jack gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the transformation.

Aisha's face was even colder than his. "They're here."

"…They?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she subtly lifted her hand and pointed toward the library entrance.

Jack followed her gaze—

A group of men in black tactical gear had entered the library. Their steps were steady, their gazes sharp. The weapons strapped to their waists gleamed under the dim light, reflecting a chilling metallic sheen.

They scanned the room in silence before the man leading them spoke in a low voice. "The target is here."

Jack's blood ran cold.

—They were looking for him.

Aisha's hand slowly moved to her waist, her eyes unreadable. "Jack, listen to me. No matter what happens… don't lose control."

Jack's fingers curled slightly, his gaze turning dangerously sharp.

But could he really hold himself back?

Jack's heart pounded wildly, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His body still burned, as if something inside him was tearing through his bones. But more than the pain, one question gnawed at him—who were those men in black?

Aisha didn't give him time to think. She tugged lightly at his sleeve, her voice low. "Stay quiet. Follow me."

Jack's throat was dry. He glanced at her. The urge inside him was spiraling out of control, but he still managed a nod.

Aisha led him through the narrow path behind the bookshelves, carefully avoiding the line of sight. The werewolf hunters had already spread out, methodically sweeping through the library's aisles.

"The target should still be here." One of the men murmured. "Don't let him escape."

Jack's breath hitched.

They were looking for him. That much was obvious.

But why? Was it because of the murders? Or did they already know about his bloodline?

Then, another realization struck him—Aisha was part of the werewolf hunters.

So why was she helping him?

"You—" He barely got a word out before Aisha suddenly turned back, pressing a finger to her lips, signaling for silence.

"Don't talk," she whispered, her voice as light as the wind. "We need to get out of here first."

Jack clenched his jaw and followed her. They weaved through the towering bookshelves, heading toward the library's back area.

"There's a back door?" Jack whispered.

Aisha nodded, speaking quickly. "A staff-only exit. Normally locked, but I can open it."

Jack didn't have time to question how she knew that. His body was spiraling further out of control—his heart pounded so hard it felt like it would explode, and the sounds around him grew unnaturally sharp.

He could hear the faint rustle of pages being turned. The hunters' low whispers to each other. Even the distinct sound of a man tapping his fingers against the side of a gun—clearer than human ears should ever hear.

He forced himself to push forward, following Aisha toward the back door.

—But they were spotted.

"Over there!"

A sharp voice cut through the air. The hunters turned, their guns instantly locking onto them.

"Run!" Aisha barked, shoving Jack forward. At the same time, she yanked a silver handgun from her waist and fired two quick shots.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets shattered against the bookshelves, splintering wood and causing a momentary distraction. Jack didn't hesitate—he bolted for the door, Aisha right behind him. She punched in a rapid sequence of numbers on a keypad, and the lock beeped as it disengaged.

Jack stumbled through, the cold night air hitting his lungs like ice, momentarily clearing his head. Aisha followed, slamming the door shut behind them and jamming an iron rod against the handle.

"Move!" She grabbed Jack's arm and sprinted down the alley.

Behind them, the door shuddered under heavy blows. A hunter's voice rang out—"After them!"

Jack gasped for breath as they ran. The streets were narrow and dimly lit, neon signs flickering in the distance. The air was thick with dampness, the city feeling suffocatingly small.

"Who the hell are they?" Jack asked, his voice strained.

Aisha didn't slow down. "They're part of the werewolf hunter organization. Their job is to track down and eliminate awakened werewolves."

Jack's stomach twisted. "And what about you? Aren't you one of them? Why are you helping me?"

Aisha didn't look back. Her voice was calm but firm.

"Because I want to know what you really are."

Jack's breath caught in his throat.

Ahead, at the end of the street, the hunters had already caught up. Under the flickering streetlights, the gleam of their gun barrels sent a cold chill down his spine.

Aisha suddenly yanked him toward a narrow side alley.

"This way!"

Jack stumbled after her, barely keeping up as they slipped into the shadows of a long-abandoned warehouse. Aisha quickly shut the door behind them, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't make a sound."

Outside, the hunters' footsteps grew closer.

Jack leaned against the wall, panting, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. Aisha's grip on her gun tightened, her eyes fixed on the door.

They could only hope—hope that the hunters wouldn't find them here.

But Jack knew deep down…

The night wasn't over.

His transformation had only just begun.