I put a block between myself and the thugs' screaming before cutting left into a narrow alley. The noise of the main street faded behind me, swallowed by the darkness. I walked without direction, letting the hunger pull at me, tugging like an invisible thread. I needed to find someone wicked—someone who deserved to disappear—but all I saw were shadows of people trying to survive the night.
At the alley mouth, a few drunks lay sprawled on the cold concrete in front of shuttered stores. One man muttered through clenched teeth, "I hate you… you cheater… die already."
Another groaned, "No more, boss… I can't drink anymore…"
Their voices trailed off as I passed deeper into the alley. The farther I went, the fewer bodies I saw. The darkness thickened, and the air grew colder. My senses remained sharp, each footstep echoing, each heartbeat loud in my skull. Then I heard it.
A woman's voice—shaking, broken, begging.
And another voice answering her… except it wasn't human. It was shaped like speech but carried a low, guttural growl beneath every word, as if something inside the man's throat snarled while he spoke.
I ran. Panic quickened my steps. I followed the voices toward a construction site—steel beams jutting into the night sky like ribs. Floodlights flickered against the raw concrete. I vaulted the fence quietly and walked deeper, the gravel crunching under my feet.
The sounds sharpened with every step.
The closer I crept, the clearer the sounds became: wet sobbing, muffled pleas, and the rip of fabric being torn apart.
I ducked behind a concrete mixer and peeked over its rusted rim.
A woman dangled in the air by her hair.
Floodlight glare reflected the creature holding her. It barely resembled a man.
The creature easily about two and a half meters tall. Two curved horns jutted from his skull. Thick, matted fur—dark brown streaked with black—covered his shoulders and chest, swallowing what remained of a tank top. His pants had split down the sides, barely hanging on around legs that ended not in feet, but hooves. Each exhale came out in thick mist in cool night breeze.
He looked like a minotaur from myth.
Except his face was still disturbingly human—eyes too wild, lips pulled into a grin that didn't belong on any person.
"Please—don't hurt me. I don't know you," the woman sobbed.
"You don't need to know me," the man replied, his voice thick, rasping. "Just… stay still. You smell… too good…"
A ripping sound—fabric tearing—rushed through the empty site.
"No—stop! Please! Let me go!"
"Struggling makes it worse," he growled. "Makes me hungrier."
Her hands clawed at his wrist, her feet scraping uselessly for balance. Tears streaked down her dirt-stained cheeks. What remained of her clothes barely clung to her.
She gasped, "Why are you doing this? I didn't do anything to you!"
"I don't care…" His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. "You're warm… alive… I can feel your fear. It tastes good."
"I just want to go home," she cried. "Please, I have a family. Let me go."
He leaned closer, his breath a low snarl against her neck. "I don't care about your home. Or your family. I just want—more."
Her scream tore through the site.
"Stop… stop… please!"
Then the wind shifted behind me. The creature stopped mid-breath. Slowly, he turned his head.
He smiled.
A violent, stretched smile that didn't belong on a human face.
He threw the woman aside like a piece of trash. She hit the ground with a choked scream before scrambling away, stumbling toward the open trenches. I didn't know if she would make it out… but she was no longer the focus of the monster's attention.
His gaze pinned me.
"Come out already," he growled, voice vibrating through his chest. "I know you're here. I can smell your stink, little puppy."
I stiffened. Why do they keep calling me that? What am I to them?
I stepped out from behind the concrete mixer, keeping myself steady, masking the spike of fear rising in my throat.
"Why do you call me that?" I asked. "I don't even know you."
The creature cracked his knuckles. "Because you are." His grin widened. "And you know why you came here. Not to save her." His head tilted. "But to feed."
My jaw tightened. "You're wrong."
"Am I?" he asked, then lowered himself like a bull preparing to charge. "Let's see."
He launched forward.
He moved faster than I expected—faster than anything that big should've been able to move. One blink, and he crossed the distance between us. Instinct wrenched my body sideways just in time. His shoulder smashed into the concrete mixer behind me.
The metal screamed.
Bolts ripped free. The mixer buckled, cracked, then split open as if made of cheap plastic. A cascade of gravel and half-dried cement scattered across the ground, dust rising in a choking cloud.
Through the haze, his silhouette shifted—massive shoulders rolling, horns glinting under the floodlights, breath fogging the air like steam from a furnace. He twisted his body with unnatural flexibility for something so heavy and charged again.
The ground trembled beneath each hoofed step.
A fist the size of a small boulder cut through the air toward my head. I jumped back, the blow missing me by inches. When it hit the ground, the impact detonated like a small explosion—gravel and chunks of stone burst outward, peppering my legs and face. A shallow crater carved itself into the ground where my head would've been.
I could feel the vibration travel up my shins.
If that hit me directly, I wouldn't be hurt—I would be gone.
He didn't slow down.
He attacked like an animal possessed—fists hammering, hooves slamming, wild charges that shattered anything unlucky enough to be in his way. Steel bars fell from their stacks as he brushed past them. A wooden pallet splintered beneath one swing. Dust rose with every impact, mixing with the thick scent of earth, sweat, and something more… something feral.
"Keep running, you dog. I'll rip you apart when I catch you!" He shouted.
I kept dodging, slipping past each strike by a hair. My heart pounded, breaths sharpening inside the mask. He grew faster the angrier he became, each attack heavier than the last. He wasn't trying to defeat me. He wanted to crush me, tear me apart, erase me from the world.
I thought I was keeping up—until I wasn't.
A blind kick—careless, wide—caught me off-guard. I didn't even see his leg move. One moment he was swinging a fist; the next, a hoof the size of my head smashed into my forearms as I brought them up purely by reflex.
Pain exploded through my chest and arms.
It felt like being hit by a wrecking ball. The force lifted me off the ground—five meters, maybe more. My arms trembled violently, nerves screaming from wrist to shoulder. My bones are broken.
I hadn't even finished rising when he leapt after me.
In mid-air, he caught my head with one massive hand—his fingers scraping across my mask, claws whining against the material.
For a heartbeat, he held me there, suspended in the cold air.
"Little puppy," he growled, voice vibrating through his palm into my skull, "you should've stayed hidden."
Then he threw me downward.
No hesitation. No restraint.
The world rushed up to meet me in a blur. Wind tore at my hood. My stomach lurched. The moment stretched thin—just long enough for fear to claw up my throat—before everything collapsed into impact.
I crashed into the ground like a dropped weight.
Gravel exploded outward. My back lit up with white-hot pain. Air blasted out of my lungs. Blood burst from my mouth, bones broken, and my vision blurred.
And somewhere above me, I heard his hooves thud heavily as he prepared to finish what he started.