The Mark of The Wolf

Dax Walker hadn't meant to become part of a world he barely understood. He was just a man trying to move forward from a past filled with blood, chaos, and things that should never be mentioned in polite conversation. But sometimes, fate had a way of throwing you into the dark before you could even see the shadow of the threat coming.

The city was quiet tonight, the kind of silence that felt unnatural in a place like this. Dax stepped out of his office, the half-lit sign above his door flickering against the backdrop of rain-soaked streets. His boots echoed down the narrow alley, a soft rhythmic tapping that mixed with the distant rumble of thunder. The storm had been brewing for hours, and Dax didn't care about the weather anymore. He only cared about the case in his hand.

A client had come to him earlier that day—a young woman named Eliza, desperate and frightened. Her dog had gone missing, but it wasn't just any disappearance. Eliza swore that her pet had been dragged away by something far too large to be a human. Her story had sounded wild, but when she described the unusual claw marks found on the ground near her home, Dax had decided it was worth looking into.

The scent of damp earth and wet concrete hit his nostrils as he walked toward the park, the site of the reported disappearance. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, leaving the city bathed in an eerie gray haze. Dax adjusted his jacket, pulling the collar up to shield against the chill.

As he neared the park, he spotted something unusual—a large, disheveled figure standing by the old oak tree at the center. At first, Dax thought it was another homeless man, but there was something off about the way he stood. The man's back was straight, his shoulders taut, as though he was listening to something far beyond the world around him.

Dax's instincts kicked in. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket, wrapping around the cold handle of his gun. He wasn't planning to use it unless he had to, but when you dealt with strange occurrences, you couldn't be too careful.

"Hey!" Dax called, his voice low but firm. The man didn't move. Dax took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes narrowing. Then, without warning, the figure turned around.

The face that met him was not what he expected. It was pale, almost sickly, with deep-set eyes that glowed a faint amber in the dim light. The man's hair was unkempt, wild, like he'd been living in the wild for days. And his skin—Dax could see faint, jagged scars running along his neck, like the remnants of something torn.

"You shouldn't be here," the man rasped, his voice gravelly, like it had been used far too much. He sounded as though he had something heavy in his chest, trying to push its way out.

Dax didn't respond right away. He scanned the area, looking for anything that seemed out of place. His eyes landed on a set of fresh claw marks gouged into the bark of the oak tree—deep and powerful, almost too perfect to be the work of any natural creature.

"I'm looking for a dog," Dax said finally, his tone even. "You seen anything strange around here tonight?"

The man's lips curled into a snarl, and for a brief moment, Dax thought he saw something shift in his eyes. Something primal. Something beastly. "I've seen more than you think," the man whispered, his breath shallow. "And you're already too far in. They'll come for you, too."

Before Dax could respond, a loud growl broke through the air—low and guttural, like a warning. Dax's hand moved instinctively, gripping his gun tighter, but he wasn't fast enough.

From the darkness, something large and fast burst through the trees. The shape was blurry at first, but then it came into focus—a massive wolf, its fur slick with rain and matted with blood. Its eyes gleamed a fierce yellow as it lunged at the man, who barely had time to react.

The wolf's jaws snapped shut, and with a sickening crunch, the man's body was torn apart. The sound of ripping flesh filled the air as the beast dragged its prey into the shadows.

Dax stood frozen, his heart racing. His hand shook as he reached for his phone, dialing 911 without thinking, but the line went dead before it could even connect. The city had a way of hiding its secrets—secrets that came alive under the cover of night.

The growl faded into the distance, and Dax was left alone in the eerie silence, the only sound his own breathing. He looked back to the spot where the man had stood, now empty, save for the remnants of torn clothing and blood-soaked earth. But the claw marks on the tree remained.

What the hell had just happened?

Dax's mind raced, but one thing was clear. This wasn't just another case. He wasn't dealing with just an animal anymore. Whatever he had just witnessed, it was something far worse—something ancient, and perhaps something that had just marked him as its next prey.

As he turned to leave, a familiar rustling caught his ear. Dax's eyes darted to the side, and he froze. A coyote, thin and wiry, was sitting in the bushes, watching him with amber eyes that seemed to pierce straight through him. There was something about the way the animal stared at him that felt… different.

It wasn't a simple animal. It was a message.

The beast was marking him.

Dax Walker hadn't meant to become part of a world he barely understood. He was just a man trying to move forward from a past filled with blood, chaos, and things that should never be mentioned in polite conversation. But sometimes, fate had a way of throwing you into the dark before you could even see the shadow of the threat coming.

The city was quiet tonight, the kind of silence that felt unnatural in a place like this. Dax stepped out of his office, the half-lit sign above his door flickering against the backdrop of rain-soaked streets. His boots echoed down the narrow alley, a soft rhythmic tapping that mixed with the distant rumble of thunder. The storm had been brewing for hours, and Dax didn't care about the weather anymore. He only cared about the case in his hand.

A client had come to him earlier that day—a young woman named Eliza, desperate and frightened. Her dog had gone missing, but it wasn't just any disappearance. Eliza swore that her pet had been dragged away by something far too large to be a human. Her story had sounded wild, but when she described the unusual claw marks found on the ground near her home, Dax had decided it was worth looking into.

Dax had seen a lot in his time—dangerous criminals, the occasional gang war, and once or twice, strange people who seemed to have powers that defied logic. But the idea of an animal being dragged away by something that didn't fit the usual suspects wasn't something he could ignore. It wasn't just the attack he found unsettling. It was the fact that something deeper was happening, and he could feel it crawling under his skin.

The scent of damp earth and wet concrete hit his nostrils as he walked toward the park, the site of the reported disappearance. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, leaving the city bathed in an eerie gray haze. Dax adjusted his jacket, pulling the collar up to shield against the chill. His fingers grazed the handle of the knife tucked into his belt—a backup, just in case. His gun was always on him, but there was something about this case that made him feel like the usual methods wouldn't be enough.

The park had always been a place for quiet reflection. For lovers and joggers and children on swings. But tonight, it was different. The trees seemed twisted in a way they hadn't been before, the leaves rustling like whispers in the wind. Dax had been in this park a hundred times, but tonight, it felt like the shadows were alive, watching him. The air tasted strange—thick and heavy, like a storm was waiting to break.

As he neared the heart of the park, he spotted something unusual—a large, disheveled figure standing by the old oak tree at the center. The tree had always been a landmark, towering over the park with its gnarled branches stretching toward the sky. But tonight, the figure's presence made the tree seem even more menacing. At first, Dax thought it was another homeless man, but there was something off about the way he stood. The man's back was straight, his shoulders taut, as though he was listening to something far beyond the world around him. His stance was too poised, too still. Not the posture of someone who had been out in the rain for too long.

Dax's instincts kicked in. His hand slid into his coat pocket, brushing against the familiar grip of his gun. He wasn't planning to use it unless he had to, but when you dealt with strange occurrences, you couldn't be too careful. He knew better than to trust anyone in this city, especially not someone who looked like they had secrets carved into their bones.

"Hey!" Dax called, his voice low but firm, breaking the silence of the night. The man didn't move. Dax took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes narrowing. Then, without warning, the figure turned around.

The face that met him was not what he expected. It was pale, almost sickly, with deep-set eyes that glowed a faint amber in the dim light. His hair was unkempt, wild, like he'd been living in the wild for days. And his skin—Dax could see faint, jagged scars running along his neck, like the remnants of something torn. Something dangerous.

"You shouldn't be here," the man rasped, his voice gravelly, like it had been used far too much. It was rough, hoarse, as though his throat had been scraped raw. His words seemed to hang in the air, vibrating with a warning that Dax could feel deep in his bones.

Dax didn't respond right away. His eyes were scanning the area, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. There was something unnatural about this encounter. His gut told him to walk away, but something in the man's voice anchored him in place.

"I'm looking for a dog," Dax said finally, his tone even, trying to keep the situation from escalating. "You seen anything strange around here tonight?"

The man's lips curled into a snarl. His amber eyes flickered with something dangerous—primal. It was like a mask had slipped away, revealing the beast beneath. Dax's heart rate quickened, but he didn't let his guard down.

"I've seen more than you think," the man whispered, his breath shallow. "And you're already too far in. They'll come for you, too."

Before Dax could respond, a low, menacing growl cut through the air—deep and guttural, like a warning. Dax's heart skipped a beat. His hand moved instinctively toward his gun, but he wasn't fast enough.

From the shadows of the trees, a massive wolf emerged, its fur slick with rain and matted with blood. Its eyes gleamed a fierce yellow, its muzzle pulled back in a snarl. The creature was huge, its muscles rippling beneath the rain-soaked fur. It looked at Dax with an intelligence that didn't belong to an animal, and then it looked back at the man, who had barely enough time to react.

In an instant, the wolf lunged, its jaws snapping shut with a sickening crunch. Dax froze, unable to tear his eyes away as the creature tore into the man, dragging him down with the savage force of a predator. The sound of ripping flesh filled the air, making Dax's stomach churn.

The beast didn't stop. It ripped and tore at the man's body, as if it were a ragdoll. The raw violence was too much for Dax to process at first. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the wolf disappeared into the shadows, its growls echoing in the distance.

Dax stood frozen, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His gun was still in his hand, but his fingers trembled. The man, now nothing more than a pile of mangled flesh and torn clothing, was barely recognizable. It was like the beast had removed any trace of humanity from him.

His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn't obey. He didn't know if the danger had passed or if the worst was yet to come.

Finally, he reached for his phone, dialing 911 without thinking. But when he pressed the call button, the screen flickered and went dead. His connection was lost. The silence of the park grew louder, almost suffocating.

Dax's eyes darted back to the spot where the man had stood, but now there was nothing left. No body. No blood. Just the aftermath of the attack. But the claw marks on the oak tree remained—deep, jagged, and unmistakable.

What the hell had just happened?

Dax stumbled back, his mind racing. Whatever had just happened wasn't some random attack. It wasn't a gang war or a predator out for food. This was something older. Something darker. The primal fury of an animal wasn't just instinct—it was a message.

As he turned to leave, a familiar rustling caught his ear. Dax stopped, his hand instinctively tightening around the grip of his gun. The bushes near the edge of the park rustled again, and out of the darkness, a figure emerged.

A coyote.

It was thin, wiry, its fur a dull gray that blended with the shadows. Its amber eyes glowed in the darkness, staring directly at Dax with a knowing look, as if it had been waiting for him.

Dax felt a shiver run down his spine. The animal didn't run. It didn't cower. It just stood there, watching him with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. It was too calm, too focused.

There was something about the way the coyote stared at him that felt different, like it knew him in a way no animal should.

And then, in a flash, it was gone, disappearing into the darkened park as quickly as it had appeared. But Dax felt it. That lingering presence, the weight of its eyes still on him.

The beast had marked him.