Things are getting Interesting

After Ethan left, Hunter stomped into the house, anger written all over his face. Crystal was lounging on the raggedy couch, filing her deadly, sharp claws.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Hunter exploded, towering over his sister. "Attacking an innocent human like that? Do you realize how close you came to completely shattering the accords between our packs?"

Crystal inspected her nails, acting like she didn't care one bit. "Relax, baby brother. I only roughed up the little thing a bit as a warning to keep her nose out of our business."

"A warning?" Hunter shook his head in disbelief. "Drake said she was nearly killed, Crystal! We'd be at full-blown war with his whole pack right now if he hadn't driven you and your mutts off in time."

Finally looking up, Crystal's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "Oh, I highly doubt my precious Ethan would ever truly harm me. He's far too." She slowly licked her full lips. "...infatuated with me."

Hunter blinked rapidly as he finally understood what this was about. "Wait, you went after Drake's little human friend because of your delusional obsession with trying to become his mate, didn't you? This was just a twisted jealousy rampage."

"That frail, mousy little thing is a temporary distraction at best," Crystal said with a dismissive hair toss. Even so, her eyes narrowed possessively. "But I won't allow any human wench to tempt Ethan away from his true destiny—claiming his rightful place as my mate and the ultimate Alpha."

For a long stretch, Hunter simply stared at his clearly unhinged sister in stunned silence. Then he sighed heavily and sank into a tattered recliner, suddenly looking aged beyond his years.

"Crystal...Drake doesn't see you as a potential mate; you know that, right? He tolerates you as part of the agreement we made with his pack. But he never chose you as his mate or Luna willingly." so I think you need to stop this nonsense and quit annoying him before he kills us all.

Crystal's pouty lips curled into a cruel smirk. "He will soon enough, once that insipid human has been removed permanently. With her gone, Ethan's primal instincts will be to choose me as his rightful mate and Alpha Queen."

Hunter opened his mouth but seemed to think better of arguing further with her twisted delusions. He simply shook his head and pushed to his feet with a weary grunt.

"Just be smarter about dealing with humans from now on," he muttered as he headed for his bedroom. "In fact, why don't you blame this latest stunt on Sasha? Let Drake direct his anger at her for a change."

Crystal's smile turned absolutely feral at the devious suggestion regarding her own beta female wolf. "Ooh yes, that could prove deliciously satisfying to watch the fallout," she purred to herself. "Enjoy your final days while they last, little mouse. Once you're out of the picture, Ethan Drake will be all mine." Crystal smiled mischievously as she rose and left for her room. 

Meanwhile, Marshall could barely contain his terror as he frantically fumbled for his phone with trembling hands. Stumbling through the pitch-black forest, he pulled up Carter's number with shaking fingers and stabbed the call button. He had to escape this waking nightmare—now!

"Marshall? What the hell is going on?" Carter's gruff voice was laced with irritated fatigue at being called so late.

"Carter, oh man, you're never going to believe what I just saw!" Marshall's words came out high and reedy, rife with hysteria. "Like actual werewolves, Carter! These massive, mutated wolf monsters came tearing out of the trees and freaking attacked us! They were gonna kill us dead, would've succeeded too if..."

The memory of that bone-chilling roar and emerald blur surging out of the darkness flashed through Marshall's mind again, spiking his heart rate anew with primal terror.

"If that Drake guy in his own werewolf form hadn't fought them off!" he finished in a terrified rush. "It was like something straight out of the sickest horror movie, man! Fuckin' Blood Rave 2 brought to life!"

For several endless moments, the only sounds on the line were Carter's steady breathing and the strident, panicked pants of Marshall's own.

"Marshall, please tell me you're not calling me high as a kite or blackout drunk again," Carter said at last in a carefully measured tone. "Because you know I'm not greenlighting any Bigfoot mockumentary, just 'cause you put on some crackpot act to try and sell me on it."

"I'm stone-cold sober, Carter; I swear on my grandmother's ashes!" Marshall all but wailed in impassioned protest, the words blurring together in his haste. "You think I'd make up seeing poor Lily get torn to shreds right in front of me? Bleeding out from those fuckin' things' fangs and claws shredding her up?"

Just recounting the ghastly imagery aloud made Marshall's knees suddenly give way beneath him in a numbing recall. He slumped back against the rough bark of a tree trunk, drained of strength. How in the hell had he allowed himself and Lily to blunder so recklessly into this clearly paranormal—and potentially fatal—situation?

He'd witnessed senseless brutality in his time as an adrenaline junkie chasing big stories. But never such blatant, visceral violence was committed against someone he actually knew and cared about. And poor, tenacious, fearless Lily...

Oh God, Lily! His chest constricted sharply with a cold vise of dread. What unimaginable terrors was she enduring now at the mercy of those inhuman monsters? Was she...had they...killed her after all when they made off with her unconscious, mangled body?

"Marshall!" Carter's stern bark startled him from his fugue of spiraling panic. "Get your shit together and answer me clearly—are you injured yourself? And has Lily received emergency medical care after this situation?"

Swallowing hard, Marshall willed his frantically racing mind to stillness and focused on breathing evenly.

"No, no, I'm physically unharmed," he managed in a slightly more level tone, wiping a clammy hand across his sweaty brow. "Drake, he swooped in and got Lily out of there after fighting off those things. She said she required special treatment of some kind."

A disturbing sense memory of the werewolf crime lord's imposing emerald gaze flickered through Marshall's thoughts. They are so intensely feral yet simultaneously almost human in their blatant concern for Lily's well-being.

"He just disappeared into the night with her, Carter!" Marshall continued, a tremor re-entering his words. "And those mutant wolf monsters... they just melted away back into the depths of the damn forest like they were never there!"

He convulsed in a violent, primal shudder at the recollected imagery, his real and imagined fears compounding into a dizzying whirlwind.

"Dear God Almighty, what in the hell am I going to tell Lily's parents?" he moaned hoarsely. "Or the cops, if I should somehow try and report... whatever the freak that was? This is straight out of a Z-grade Syfy Original Creature feature—the kind of batshit premise that no sane person would believe for a second!"

A low chuckle, devoid of humor, crackled over the line from his editor. "Oh, I dunno there, bud. The way I see it, you and Lily went poking around and seem to have uncovered a doozy of an underground world after all. I can't say as I ever really pictured the two of you stumbling across an entire race of friggin' werewolf-type beasties or whatever, but here we are."

Weirdly, Carter's flat pragmatism and seeming acceptance of the utterly insane situation were exactly the grounding force Marshall needed. His reporter's instincts to chronicle and share the truth finally managed to kick back into drive.

"So... what do we do?" he asked in a quieter, more focused tone, clutching his phone in a white-knuckle grip. "Stakeout this Drake Manor day and night to try capturing footage of Lily emerging alive and well? Start a documentation trail by officially reporting the attack and kidnapping to the authorities?"

"And get tossed straight into the looney bin before the first ad break, no thanks," Carter gave a dismissive snort. "No, for now, we play it cool like a couple of damn Arctic cucumbers, Marshall. Get somewhere secure and lay low while I burn up a few lines to some professional contacts. See if any of them can discreetly put out feelers to verify whether or not this whole earth-shattering revelation is really our Eureka moment.