Chapter 110

The moon hung low in the ink-black sky, casting an eerie glow over the desolate streets as Matt tread silently through the night. He was in rather high spirits that night. The date with Celeste had gone great. He was finally getting somewhere.

Still, despite the giddiness that coursed through him, he was still on high alert for the rogue as well as the Schreiber family. They had been oddly silent. Usually when they decided something, they struck fast. The anticipation was putting him on edge.

Matt moved through the narrow alleys, his senses heightened, and his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He had been at this for years, and his intuition told him that danger was lurking in the darkness tonight.

The wind whispered through the empty streets, carrying with it an unsettling chill. Somewhere in the shadows, Enzo and Nina were following him. He had asked them to watch his back on patrol, but to stay hidden.

When the Schreiber family did attack, they would most likely do it when he was alone. Matt wasn’t stupid enough to be on his own, but he wanted to draw them out. He’d rather just get the fight out of the way.

As Matt continued his patrol, he felt the tension in the air. The familiar hum of the city was replaced by an ominous silence. It was then that he heard it—the subtle rustle of footsteps, the kind that betrayed the stealthy approach of skilled adversaries.

His hand instinctively grew into claws. The Schreiber family were known for their ruthlessness. They would get no mercy for him. He would rip through their ranks and make them think twice about attacking him again.

The Schreiber family emerged from the shadows, a trio of shadows themselves, clad in dark attire that seemed to absorb the feeble moonlight. There was a grim determination etched on their faces, and Matt knew that words wouldn't deter them.

"Matt," sneered Victor Schreiber, one of Jack’s distant cousins if he wasn’t mistaken, his voice dripping with malice. "It's time you pay for your sins."

Matt scoffed. “What sins? For being a werewolf? I hate to break it to you, but I was born this way. There’s nothing sinful about it.”

“You’re a monster and you need to be exterminated!” Victor shot back, hatred lacing every syllable with venom. Matt rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure when their hatred of werewolves had started, but it was clear that it still ran very deep.

The air crackled with tension as the Schreibers closed in, weapons gleaming in the dim light. Matt stood his ground, muscles tensed, his mind calculating the best course of action. If he shifted now, he’d be vulnerable. He needed to wait for an opening.

But before the first blow could be struck, Enzo and Nina emerged from the shadows, their presence unsettling the Schreibers.

"Matt, we've got your back," Enzo declared, his hand gripping a gleaming blade.

Nina, a master of stealth, nodded in agreement. "This ends here, Schreibers."

The ensuing battle unfolded like a deadly dance in the moonlit night. Blades clashed, and the echoes of gunfire reverberated through the empty streets. The Schreibers, though skilled and determined, found themselves outmatched.

Enzo's strength and Nina's agility complemented Matt's tactical prowess. It was a seamless collaboration, a testament to the unspoken bond forged through countless battles. There was nothing that could beat them when they were together.

Matt swung a fist at Victor’s face and it connected. Victor fell to the ground and Matt jumped on top of him. With his extended claws, he plunged his hand into Victor’s chest and ripped out his heart.

He let the organ fall to the ground, the fresh blood bringing his wolf to the surface. He threw his head back and howled. It wasn’t a victory howl, more of a lament. He hated taking human life, even when it was necessary.

"Matt, watch out!" Enzo’s warning came just in time.

Matt's instincts kicked in, and he dodged a sneak attack from behind. A masked assailant, concealed in the shadows, lunged at him with a deadly intent. But Matt, aided by his heightened senses, countered the attack, disarming the would-be assassin.

Their dagger fell to the concrete and Matt swiped it up before they could grab it again. A familiar bitter smell reached his nose. Wolfsbane. The dagger was poisoned with wolfsbane. Even a small amount would be fatal.

Matt snarled and drove the dagger into the would-be assassin’s stomach. In a quick motion, he pulled the dagger out and stabbed his assailant through their neck. Their blood coated Matt’s face, but he didn’t care.

Leaving the body, he turned toward Nina and Enzo, but the fight was already over. Matt surveyed the carnage. Four humans were dead. He sighed. He was supposed to be a PeaceKeeper.

“Well, at least it’s over,” Enzo said as he wiped his blade on his jeans to get the blood off. There was nothing worse than cleaning dried blood off of steel.

“It’s not over,” Matt said ominously. “It’ll never be over as long as the Schreiber family is around. Their hatred for us…they won’t stop until all of us are dead.”

Nina huffed as she brought her cell to her ear. She gave their location and how many bodies were there. When she hung up, she said, “Clean up crew will be here in ten minutes. We need to make sure nobody sees this.”

For the next ten minutes, they stood with their backs to each other, looking out for any civilians that might accidentally stumble onto the scene. Luckily it was late so they didn’t have to deal with anyone.

The clean-up crew arrived. Matt, Nina and Enzo were effectively dismissed. They wandered down the streets, sticking to the shadows. Every single one of them was covered in blood. They needed to get to their homes and shower.

As soon as Matt got home, he sought refuge in the cleansing embrace of a hot shower. The water cascaded down, a welcome torrent that promised to wash away not just the physical remnants of the altercation but also the lingering tension that clung to his skin.

As the first droplets hit, it felt like a release, a cathartic ritual to shed the weight of the confrontation. The hot water acted as a balm for both body and soul, gradually thawing the stiffness in his muscles as he let go of the adrenaline.

Each drop that splashed against Matt seemed to carry away the residue of anger and frustration, spiraling down the drain along with the suds of soap. The rhythmic sound of the water drumming against the tiles created a backdrop for introspection.

As the temperature of the water embraced him, Matt could feel the knots of tension slowly unraveling. The shower transformed into a symbolic reset, a chance to emerge anew from the carnage that had taken place earlier. The scent of soap and the soothing warmth worked in tandem, helping to restore equilibrium to both mind and body.

By the time Matt turned off the faucet, he emerged from the shower not just cleansed in a physical sense but also mentally refreshed. The fight was left behind, confined to the recesses of memory, while the transformative power of the shower had worked its magic, leaving him ready to face the world again.