Chapter 49: Different personality
Mira’s POV
Shit. Shit!
Eleanor’s scream sliced through the chaos, a sound of pure terror that sent a jolt of ice through my veins. I ripped my claws out of the rogue I was dismantling, its shadowy form dissipating, and spun towards the sound.
"Eleanor!" I yelled, but a fresh wave of the damn things swarmed between us, their hollow eyes fixed on me. My wolf snarled, a raw, furious sound in my head, demanding we tear them all apart to get to her. I fought with a brutal, desperate efficiency, every move calculated to clear a path.
Just hold on, Ellie. Just hold on.
Then, everything... shifted.
It wasn’t a sound or a sight. It was a pressure change, like the air itself had become solid for a single, heart-stopping second. The rogues I was fighting froze mid-lunge.
All of them. Across the entire track, every single twisted form just... stopped. My claws hung in the air, poised to strike at a monster that was no longer moving.
What is this? my wolf whispered, her confusion mirroring my own.
My eyes, still glowing with the green fire of my half-shift, scanned the battlefield and landed on Eleanor. She was standing now, the body of a rogue lying broken at her feet. But it wasn’t her. Her posture was different—regal, ancient, utterly still.
And her eyes... gods, her eyes were completely white, glowing with an ethereal, terrifying light. The air hummed around her, charged with a power that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
"Eleanor?" I breathed, but I knew she couldn’t hear me. This wasn’t the scared, conflict-averse woman I’d shared an office with for years. This was someone else entirely.
The men from the vans, seeing their chance, rushed forward, weapons raised. They’d managed to carve a path through the frozen rogues. "Surrender now, or we take you by force!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling just enough to betray his fear.
Over his shoulder, I could see the flashing blue and red lights of the police finally arriving at the track’s entrance. A fresh wave of panic hit me. What the hell are we going to do now?
But Eleanor’s face didn’t even flinch. She simply raised her head, a slow, deliberate movement that held the weight of ages. As she did, every single rogue on the track turned its head in unison to look at her. It was the most chilling thing I’ve ever seen.
Then, she pointed. One slender finger, extended towards the group of armed men.
The command was silent, but it was absolute.
As one, the rogues moved. It wasn’t the mindless skittering from before; this was a coordinated, vicious swarm. They lunged at the men with a single-minded purpose.
Gunfire erupted, sharp and frantic, but it was useless. There were too many. The sounds that followed—screams cut short, the wet tear of flesh—would be seared into my memory forever. It was a slaughter.
Roxy landed softly beside me, her purple eyes wide, her chest heaving. "Mira... are you seeing this shit?"
I could only nod, my throat too tight to form words. Yes. I’m seeing it. And I had no idea if we were safe, or if we were next.
And then, she turned her head. Those glowing white eyes, empty of everything but a cold, ancient fury, landed on Roxy and me.
A chill, so profound it felt like my blood had turned to ice water, slammed into me. It was an instinct I’d never felt before, a primal terror that screamed one thing: PREDATOR.
I’ve lived through shit that would break most people. But this? This dread was a physical weight, crushing my lungs and rooting me to the spot. My wolf, usually so fierce, was cowering in the back of my mind, utterly silent.
"Eleanor?" I managed to choke out, my voice a ragged whisper. I had to reach her. I had to snap her out of this. "Ellie, it’s me. It’s Mira."
She took a step forward. And I tried to move, to step back. But I couldn’t. My muscles were locked, frozen not by some external force, but by the sheer, overwhelming aura of power and vengeance rolling off her.
I couldn’t look away from her eyes. I didn’t know how I knew, but I felt it—a rage so deep. A need for revenge that had been festering for a while.
She stretched out her arm, not in an attack, but as if in judgment.
I closed my eyes.
But there was no pain. No impact. Just a sudden, deafening silence, broken only by the distant shouts of the police.
I cracked my eyes open.
Eleanor was collapsed on the ground in a heap, small and fragile-looking once more. The terrifying aura was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
I was brought back by the harsh reality of flashing lights and shouted commands.
"Hands in the air! Now! On your knees!"
We complied. There was no other choice. I raised my hands, my movements slow and stiff, my eyes never leaving Eleanor’s unconscious form as Roxy and I were forced to our knees.
The cold metal of handcuffs snapped around my wrists. I saw two officers carefully lift Eleanor and carry her toward a waiting ambulance. At least she was with the police. That was something.
I glanced toward where the vans had been. Nothing remained but a scene of carnage. The men who had hunted her were wiped out, completely and utterly. The remaining rogues, now mindless again, were being efficiently dispatched by a coordinated police assault.
As they led us away, the smell of blood and gunpowder thick in the air, the biggest question of all echoed in me. Who exactly is Eleanor??
***
The police station was a blur of fluorescent lights and low, serious voices. We’d given our statements. Of course, I left out the part about being a werewolf.
I stuck to the story that the shadowy creatures—the "rogues"—just turned on the men in the vans for reasons I couldn’t fathom, and we were just lucky to survive. I prayed to any god that would listen that Roxy’s story aligned with mine. It should. Our first and only rule is to protect the secret.
But my mind wasn’t on the cops or their questions. It was on Eleanor. Is she awake? What is she telling them? If she describes what happened from her perspective, if she mentions the white eyes, the control... they’ll lock her in a lab forever. Or worse.
An officer led me to a small, sterile room where Roxy was already sitting, her posture deceptively relaxed. The moment the door clicked shut, I opened my mouth to speak, but Roxy caught my eye. Her gaze flickered, almost imperceptibly, toward the corner of the ceiling where a small, dark dome housed a camera. Then she brought a finger to her lips, her expression neutral.
Right. We’re being watched.
My shoulders tightened. How were we supposed to figure this out if we couldn’t talk?
As if reading my mind, Roxy nonchalantly pulled a small notepad and a pen from her pocket, sliding them across the table. She mouthed, Borrowed it.
I didn’t question her thieving skills right now. I took the pad and wrote, my handwriting jagged with tension.
Do you know about Eleanor’s condition?
Roxy took the pad, her own writing a quick, slashing script. No. No news.
She paused, then wrote again, her expression grim. I think I know what happened. Not sure.
My heart hammered against my ribs. What is it?
She fixed me with a steady look before writing something that sent a fresh chill down my spine. Do you know about the Shadow Cult? .
I grabbed the pen. Who doesn’t know about the Shadow Cult?
Roxy’s eyes narrowed. She wrote slowly, pressing the pen hard into the paper. Do you know the prophecy? The one our kind dismissed as a joke?
The memory surfaced from the depths of my mind, from old, half-remembered lessons. I wrote, my hand now trembling slightly. The one about the evil woman who swore she’d return? To wage war on humans and rule over everyone? I added, No one took it seriously. Legendary Aria and her team wiped the Cult out. They’re extinct.
Roxy’s lips pressed into a thin line. She took the pad, her next words scrawled with a terrifying finality.
Then explain how Eleanor commanded the rogues. Explain the white eyes.
I stared at the words until they blurred. I didn’t know how to explain it. Could this prophecy be actually true?
The door swung open, cutting through the heavy silence. A uniformed officer stood there. "You’re free to go."
Roxy didn’t hesitate. She tore out the page we’d written on, crumpled it, and popped it into her mouth, chewing methodically as she stood up. I followed, my legs feeling like lead.
"What about our friend? Eleanor?" I asked, my voice tight.
"She’s still being processed and questioned," the officer said dismissively, already turning away.
We stepped out of the police station, the cool night air doing little to clear the fog of dread in my head. "This is bad, Roxy. She’s in deep trouble. If she talks..."
Roxy swallowed the last of the paper. "We can only hope she doesn’t remember what happened. Or that she has the sense to keep her mouth shut."
My eyes scanned the parking lot and i saw a sleek, obsidian car. I’d know that model anywhere. "They’re here," I muttered, my body going still.
"Who?" Roxy followed my gaze.
"The Vexxons CEO’s car," I said, my voice low. "They’re probably here because of the incident on their turf. But for the Vexxon brothers to come personally to a police station..."
One of the most powerful corporate entity in the city was now personally interested in the woman we’d just theorized might be the harbinger of an ancient, apocalyptic prophecy. This wasn’t just bad. This was a whole new level of catastrophe.