EPISODE 10: THE NIGHT THE WOLVES WEPT

Scene 1: The Howling Storm

Neon City was a funeral pyre. Skyscrapers groaned under the weight of their own ruin, their fractured glass teeth biting into a smoke-choked sky. The hybrid army—hundreds of them, from toddlers with milk teeth stained red to elders with eyes like cracked amber—swarmed the streets. They moved with predatory grace, their laughter a dissonant choir as they tore through the last pockets of resistance. A child no older than six skittered past, dragging a mafia enforcer’s severed head by its hair, singing a nursery rhyme:

“Little wolf, little rose, blood will bloom where the city froze…”

Elena and Adrian crouched in the carcass of Café Luna, its neon sign sparking weakly. The air reeked of burnt coffee and viscera. Adrian’s blackened runes oozed ichor, his breaths ragged as he pressed a clawed hand to Elena’s abdomen—a futile attempt to shield their unborn child from the chaos.

“We can’t fight them all,” Elena whispered, her rose mark throbbing like a second heartbeat. The Pact Blade trembled in her grip, its edge chipped from deflecting hybrid claws. “She’s our daughter. There has to be another way.”

Adrian’s amber eyes flickered, the Beast beneath his skin snarling. “That thing isn’t our daughter. It’s the First Alpha wearing her bones like a puppet.”

A hybrid child—a boy with Elena’s chestnut curls and Adrian’s hooked claws—scurried into the café. He clutched a stuffed wolf, its fur matted with blood.

“Daddy,” he cooed, tilting his head. “Wanna play tag?”

Adrian lunged, pinning the boy to the wall. The child giggled, his runes flaring gold-black.

“Stop!” Elena grabbed Adrian’s arm. “He’s just a child!”

“He’s a weapon!” Adrian snarled. The boy’s giggles morphed into a growl as he sank fangs into Adrian’s wrist.

Scene 2: The Daughter’s Symphony

The daughter descended from her throne of rubble—a collapsed bank vault—her combat boots crunching over diamonds and bone. Her army parted, hybrids bowing with mock reverence. She wore Kieran’s leather jacket, the sleeves rolled to reveal runes that pulsed like infected veins.

“Mom. Dad,” she purred, her voice a warped harmony of childlike glee and the First Alpha’s graveled growl. “You missed family dinner. Again.”

Elena stepped forward, the Pact Blade casting fractured shadows. “Let her go. She’s innocent.”

The daughter laughed, the sound echoing through hollow skyscrapers. “Innocent?” She ripped open her jacket, revealing a torso mapped with scars—crude runes carved by a trembling hand. “Grandpa Volt did this. Said I needed balance. Want to see yours?”

Adrian’s claws tore into his palms. “What do you want?”

“What you owe me,” she hissed. “A family. A world. And him.” She pointed to Adrian, her grin splitting her face like a rotten fruit. “The Beast belongs to us now. But don’t worry—we’ll let you watch as we gut your city.”

Behind her, hybrids dragged Viktor into the open. Adrian’s lieutenant was barely recognizable—one eye gouged out, his left arm a mangled stump.

“Alpha…” Viktor rasped. “The Lunaire wolves… gone. Mafia… dead. Just us now.”

The daughter kicked Viktor’s ribs. “Say goodbye, Uncle.”

Scene 3: The Pack’s Last Stand

The surviving Volt Pack emerged from the shadows—two dozen wolves, their pelts matted with ash and blood. They circled Adrian, their growls a dirge. A hybrid teenager lunged, but a she-wolf named Mira intercepted it, tearing out its throat with a wet crunch.

“Elena,” Adrian gripped her shoulders, his claws drawing blood. “The lab. Lilith’s serum—it’s there. It could purge the First Alpha from her.”

“Or kill her,” Elena said, her voice breaking.

“Yes,” Adrian said, his eyes hollow. “But it’s the only way to save what’s left.”

Mira howled, rallying the pack. “Buy them time!”

The hybrids surged.

Scene 4: The Labyrinth of Scars

The sub-basement lab was a necropolis of forgotten horrors. Cryo-pods lined the walls, their glass fogged with frost. Inside each floated a hybrid—some with Elena’s features, others with Adrian’s, all trapped in eternal childhood. A shattered vial of Lilith’s serum glowed on the floor, its liquid shadow seeping into cracks.

“Hurry,” Adrian growled, barricading the door with a rusted gurney. Hybrid fists pounded against the metal, their snarls reverberating through the room.

Elena scooped the serum into a syringe, her hands trembling. “How do we know this will work?”

“We don’t,” Adrian said, his voice raw. “But it’s all we have.”

The door exploded inward. The daughter stood framed in the doorway, her army at her back.

“Aw,” she mocked, stepping over the debris. “Family reunion. Just like Christmas.”

Scene 5: The Sacrifice of Blood

Adrian shifted, his Beast form erupting in a maelstrom of claws and golden light. He lunged at the daughter, their collision shaking the lab. Hybrids swarmed him, tearing at his flesh, but he fought like a thing possessed—biting, slashing, howling.

Elena ducked behind a cryo-pod, the syringe clutched like a crucifix. The daughter’s laughter echoed, shrill and unhinged.

“MOM!” the girl screamed suddenly, her voice small and terrified. “Help me! It hurts!”

Elena froze. The daughter’s eyes were hers—wide, pleading, human.

“Now, Elena!” Adrian roared, pinning the girl to the floor. His claws sank into her shoulders, golden blood mingling with black.

Elena plunged the syringe into her daughter’s heart.

Scene 6: The First Alpha’s Triumph

The girl shrieked, her body convulsing. Black smoke poured from her mouth, nose, eyes—coalescing into the First Alpha’s spectral form, a towering wolf of shadow and starlight.

“Foolish girl,” he boomed, his voice shaking the lab. “You freed me. Now watch as I devour your world.”

The daughter’s corpse went rigid, her runes fading to scars. Adrian collapsed, his Beast retreating, leaving him human and broken.

Elena cradled the girl’s lifeless body, her tears carving paths through the ash on her cheeks. “No…”

The First Alpha laughed, his form dissolving into smoke. “The night belongs to me. And soon… everything will.”

Outside, the hybrids froze, their runes flickering out. Then, as one, they turned to the east—where the first rays of dawn stained the sky blood-red—and howled. Not in triumph, but in mourning.

From the ruins of Volt Tower, a single cry answered—a newborn’s wail.

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