Henry sprinted up the final flight of stairs as fast as he could pull Layla behind him. His focus was entirely on the steel gateway that loomed at the peak of the narrow flight, breathing labored as he made to pour every scrap of energy he could muster into his legs. The cold sweat that had began just as the attack did poured down his forehead in waves, partly from the exertion and partly from the sounds of rapidly closing demolition behind them.

  The ground quaked under their feet, a thundering crash ringing out from below as the beast pulverized timbers, stone and plaster alike. Both of them were thrown sidelong into the wall of the stairway from the impact, causing him to wince in pain as he fought to maintain balance in the midst of what felt like a localized earthquake.

  No way in hell am I getting us both caught by being tripped up now! The exit is right there!

  His entire body buzzed with white-hot electricity as at long last they reached the final step. Adrenaline flooded his system from head to toe, highlighting every detail within his sight in a level of crispness he had never known his whole life.

  With a frantic shove, the door to their rooftop escape route shot wide open. Cool, damp air from the world outside filled his lungs as he pushed through.

  A second reverberating impact nearly forced him to the ground just outside the doorway, only just barely catching himself by letting go of Layla’s arm to brace himself. He grunted from the sudden impact with the floor, both palms stinging as they struck the surface flat.

  He pushed himself back onto his feet in a manner of moments. With danger so close behind, there wasn’t any way he could afford not to.

  “Outside! Quickly!”

  Layla, on the other hand, proved slow to respond. Too slow for what lie behind them. At this rate, they’d be caught up to and slaughtered wholesale, just like the rest.

  Glancing back over his shoulder to see what the hangup was, he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing her listless expression.

  Her eyes were glassy, staring off into space past him. She looked like she was lost entirely somewhere else.

  Cursing silently under his breath, he pulled her through the doorway and unslung the backpack from his shoulder, passing it off to her as he took hold of the metal door.

  “We need to keep moving!”, he hissed to her as the ground continued to shake under their feet. “Any second now, that freak’s gonna smash its way up here! Snap out of it, Layla!”

  “…”

  His words fell on deaf ears. She numbly continued to stare off into the distance. The backpack was about ready to fall to the floor, despite her wrapping both hands around it and holding it close to her chest.

  A lump formed in his throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t choke down the pang of guilt that arose from the sight of her looking so… lost.

  She was trying to escape, in her own way. Trying to hide from the world. He didn’t blame her. After all, he’d done the exact same thing barely five minutes ago, in a much more literal sense.

  If the wolf catches up to us, then we’re both dead. But, if she doesn’t make it out with a reason to live… what’s the point if we get away, then?

  They only had a matter of seconds before the wolf made it out of the staircase. In that time, Henry knew that he needed to do something to help her. He let go of the door, his body moving on its own as his thoughts caught up to his instincts.

  Layla gasped, surprised, as he wrapped her in his arms in a tight embrace. Her body tensed slightly at first, trembling slightly from the weight of the world falling down around her. But, in that moment, none of that mattered. He was there for her. It was enough to begin to draw her away from the dark spiral her mind had fallen into, at least a little.

  “It’s okay,” Henry intoned softly. “We can make it out of this. You’ll be okay.”

  Her tears soaked into the shoulder of his jacket as she cried. He gave her another comforting squeeze, holding on for just a moment longer.

  The wolf would either catch up to them, or it wouldn’t. It didn’t matter to him which one. Right now, she needed someone. And he was the only one left besides her.

  Layla lifted her head, some of her old focus returning to her as she met his gaze. The pain was still there, in her eyes, but… it was no longer the forefront of what she was seeing.

  She nodded to him with a weak smile, finally slinging the backpack over her shoulders and taking the lead on their escape.

  Henry smiled back. Glad that she wasn’t completely gone, despite everything.

  The building shook once again, and both of their attention snapped back to the open door leading back the way they came. The sound of timbers cracking reached their ears in a disorganized cacophony, followed shortly by the werewolf roaring once again.

  “Shit! We need to-”

  A storm of splinters erupted from below as the beast rammed its way through the previously narrow flight of stairs up to the second floor. Scrap wood traveling at high velocities pelted him as the staircase they had just stood on mere seconds ago disintegrated before his eyes.

  He shielded his face with both arms, the leather of the biker jacket being just barely enough to absorb the worst of the energy in the blast.

  Just as he thought the worst of it was over, however, something sharp bit into his leg. Grimacing as he looked down, he saw a splinter the size and width of his pointer finger embedded partway into his calf. In the rooms below, the werewolf circled where the path to the roof had once been, growling in frustration.

  The lower half of the stairs had been utterly demolished by the gargantuan beast, the sheer mass of its frame cracking the sides of the hallway where it had forced its way into the house part of the building. Theoretically, this meant that its path up to them was obstructed. Theoretically.

  Henry wasn’t in the mood to test those limits too closely. He slammed the steel door shut the instant the creature turned around and growled in his direction.

  No way that would stop it, if it was determined enough. But they needed every second they could get.

  “Get going!!!”

  They dashed towards the fire escapes that led to the back alley where Henry had parked his bike before clocking in that night. He hobbled slightly, as fresh blood trickled down his leg from where the splinter had pierced him.

  Christ, that stings, he thought to himself distractedly. Pain tolerance, despite his best efforts, was not something he had ever made an effort to train. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get to the point where he actually did.

  Layla hopped down onto the top of the steel grate platform, with Henry lagging just a little bit behind. Just as she began lowering the ladder, the building began to shake with renewed fervor. The sound of shattering glass rang out through the air as the whole roof tilted ever so slightly towards the street.

  Henry was sent sprawling face first to the ground this time, wedging the splinter deeper into his leg and eliciting a cry of pain from him. Rolling onto his back, he could see it was stuck in practically the whole way, now. The area where it bit deep felt both hot and cold at the same time as he sucked air through clenched teeth. Testing his weight on it proved to be a lost cause as well, as he fell crashing back down the moment he tried to rise.

  Yet, comparatively, that was the least of their problems. The bigger issue was visible from his prone position on his back. Henry’s throat went dry when he saw what the cause of the building’s distress was.

  The wolf had broken through another window in an attempt to reach them by scaling the outside of the building. In practice, it had also managed to bring half of the roof down to its level. Taking out a good chunk of the supporting walls in the process.

  He couldn’t get up in time. He began sliding towards the street, towards certain death. All he found himself capable of doing was staring the specter of death dead on. As his end drew ever closer, an eerie sense of calm washed over him like a cool breeze.

  Is this it?

  Clouds of plaster dust mingled with the fog in the air, as two over-muscled forelimbs gripped the edge of the roof with enough force to crumble the stonework facade. The concrete slab at his back scraped lightly against the fabric of his jacket, sliding him closer and closer, the head of the monster just now coming into view.

  Strange. He thought he’d be more terrified. Guess once you removed the surprise from the equation, death lost its fear factor somewhat.

  Layla shouted his name from behind him. He barely noticed, completely lost in his own thoughts.

  Should I say something to her? I might not get another chance…

  The angle of the slope deepened, causing him to accelerate towards the face of the werewolf. He felt the cold iron of the ice pick skitter atop the slanted surface, still clutched firmly between his fingers.

  Wait, I’m still holding on to that? Could’ve sworn I left that by the bar...

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  He looked down at the pointy bit of metal in his hand, then back to the wolf. It had pulled itself halfway up onto the roof by now, and only a bit more than a dozen meters of distance was left between them. It’s half-blinded visage glared back at him, teeth bared in a snarl as stains of crimson ichor matted down its silver fur.

  Mauled to death by a hulked-out killer werewolf… Not how I expected to go, and it feels a bit early, but at least it’s kind of a cool way to die.

  He looked back down at the ice pick. An idea crept into his mind. Utterly psychotic, and probably indicative that he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

  Unless…

  The point wasn’t exactly razor-sharp, but there was a slight hook to it that made him imagine it could do some damage. Plus, it was solid metal the whole way through. His breath came even and shallow as the harebrained idea gained more and more traction in his mind. Should he really feel this calm right now?

  If I’m already dead… would there really be any harm in trying?

  Henry tightened his grip on the pick, angling it to hold as a weapon. It was the craziest, stupidest thing he could possibly think of doing with his life. Which made it perfect for his final moments, didn’t it? A small, slightly unbalanced laugh escaped him.

  Not like he’s going to keep me around long enough for me to receive a disappointing voice mail about it, after all.

  To think, not even a day had passed since he cast away his one big dream. Once that was gone, you thought it would be easy to accept dying unaccomplished. Especially considering already consigned himself to living his whole life that way.

  But, just this once… he wanted to do the one thing he’d been scared to do that whole time.

  Commit to something with everything he had.

  “Layla,” he called out loudly so she could hear him in the last few seconds before the point of no return.

  “Your dad wanted you to know… he’s proud of you.”

  Clutching the pick in one hand, he kicked off the sharp incline with both feet, ignoring the pain that registered as the splinter in his impaled calf snapped. With a flying tackle, he caught the wolf just below the neck, wrapping both arms around its broad shoulders. As the impact caused the beast to recoil, he raised the blade of the pick high, preparing to strike back.

  They both teetered on the edge of the building, the inertia threatening to send them plummeting two stories straight down were it not for the inhuman strength of the creature using both arms to support their collective weight.

  Layla’s voice strained as she cried out to him. He didn’t catch the words.

  “Would’ve been nice to have some magic to back me up doing something this stupid,” Henry muttered to himself. “But...”

  He plunged nearly the entire length of the iron bar into its shoulder blade. Blood spattered his hand, and he heard a sound like a bowstring snapping as flexing tendons beneath were severed.

  The beast’s head reared, and a howl of anguish shook his inner ears as the werewolf lost its balance entirely. Losing its handhold on the side of the building, they both were taken under gravity’s pull.

  < -|- -|- >

  From the top of the pub, they began to plummet down to earth. The fall itself lasted barely more than a second, but from Henry’s perspective, it felt like an eternity.

  He managed to twist the pick free just before their free fall began. Fortunately, their brief melee above ended with him on top as the werewolf lost what little grip it had left. Had it been the other way around, he imagined all that’d be left of him was a stain on the pavement as he got crushed by a creature with at least fifty kilos of lean muscle mass on its frame.

  A clawed hand nearly the size of his chest made to grab him as the wolf swung with its remaining good arm. Just its palm alone was nearly enough to wrap around his whole neck, much less the rest of its hand. His eyes bulged as it clenched its fist around his windpipe.

  He wasn’t about to take it lying down. Black spots started to swim in his vision, but he held his grip firm on the iron implement that was his last bit of defiance. There wasn’t long before they hit the ground, now. Hopefully, he could make sure he had the last laugh before he died.

  Henry hooked the blade out and around the creatures snout, past its bared teeth. Twisting his arm as he thrust the makeshift dagger forward, his last hail mary, incredibly, found its mark.

  Another agonized howl hit him dead on, nearly deafening him due to how close together they grappled. His vision swam from both the onrush of nausea the cry inflicted, as well as the lack of oxygen reaching his brain in the first place.

  The beast finally let go of its death grip on his neck, opting instead to reactively swat away at the offending weapon.

  Several things happened in that moment. The werewolf’s swipe struck true, both digging deep furrows on one side of his forearm with its claws, while the palm shattered the bone beneath from the other.

  As Henry reeled from the pain of the fracture, they finally hit pavement, tossing him head over heels off the creature to collide with the stony ground himself.

  They both bounced when they hit the pavement. The wolf, seemingly more so than Henry, not that that was any consolation for him.

  He crashed against the sidewalk, motorcycle training habits kicking in as he went limp and allowed himself to roll to a stop. A groan of pain escaped his dried lips, the burning pain in his torso suggesting – at the bare minimum – he had several fractured ribs.

  Everything hurt. The pain addled him in some ways, but knocked him back to his senses in others.

  Jesus, how am I alive right now?! And – gah – what the hell was I thinking, pulling a stupid stunt like that?!?

  His leg still had a huge chunk of wood stuck in it. His arm was broken. It hurt to breathe, and to top it all off, the werewolf was still alive as well.

  It rolled up onto all fours, pointed ears swiveling. When it tried to put weight on the arm he had wounded, however, it nearly toppled back to the ground.

  As Henry lay on the ground clutching his torso, he felt a bit of schadenfreude at the sight of it stumbling around about as bad as he had been. Blood stained his teeth and gums from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek open after his head had collided with the sidewalk.

  Even though he was feeling seriously woozy, it felt good to see his enemy was left in a similar state to him.

  Wait, enemy? Aren’t I overestimating myself when I say that?

  The werewolf began to rise once again, this time balancing itself on only its hind legs. One arm hung limply at its side, and blood smeared down its nose from where its eyes had been gouged out. Its brutish form towered over him, standing at a height that would make action movie stars self-conscious about their figure.

  It’s ears swiveled around once again as it sniffed the air. A chill ran down Henry’s spine as he realized what it was up to.

  It can’t see me… so it’s trying to track me.

  He’d rolled a bit from where he’d landed, but he still wasn’t that far away from where the wolf stood right now. If he didn’t move soon, it was only a matter of time before it caught him.

  The only saving grace for him in the moment was that it didn’t know exactly where he was. It wandered the immediate vicinity cautiously, and Henry held his breath as it searched the area.

  He was afraid to move even a muscle. The previous zen-like bravado had evaporated completely into thin air. Right now, there was a chance for him to get away. Despite the actions that led him to this point, he realized that he did, indeed, want to keep living.

  His face contorted in pain, as he mentally screamed to himself to not make a single sound, no matter how much it hurt. Slowly, he shifted his good leg up and to the side, moving at practically an inch a minute to avoid tipping off his position.

  If I can just stand up, I might be able to get away quietly. Just need to get back to the alley and to – Layla!

  It took him a moment to belatedly realize that she was probably still around somewhere. Craning his neck at a snail’s pace, he looked up above the street and found her still perched on the fire escape. Watching on wide-eyed at the aftermath.

  Ever so slowly, he raised his one good arm in the air and waved to get her attention. Once their eyes met, he wordlessly held a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be silent. She nodded vigorously in response. Evidently, she didn’t need to be told twice.

  Continuing to sit himself up, he returned a wary gaze towards the aimlessly shuffling werewolf nearby. It continued to hunt by scent, but the fresh bodies it had left strewn around the streets seemed to be throwing it off somewhat. It continued to test the air, occasionally shaking its head in a movement that oddly resembled a sneeze.

  Henry didn’t care what was causing it to be unable to pinpoint him just now, so long as it kept working. He grit his teeth again as he rose to his feet himself, the pain from his myriad wounds taking the entirety of his concentration to ignore.

  Vision swimming as he stood , blood rushed from his head down to his legs. With how preoccupied he was with keeping quiet, he was unable to correct his balance while still maintaining secrecy. He stumbled, sticking one foot forward to catch him that slid across the pavement ever so slightly.

  The werewolf immediately snapped around to face the noise. The canid ears on top of its head swept his location in an arc, searching for signs of another misstep that he was forced himself to withhold. Sweat dripped from his face down to the ground as he held the awkward position, waiting for a sign that he’d been discovered.

  Fortunately, such a sign didn’t arrive.

  He hadn’t completely screwed himself over, but his general location was known to it now. Henry glanced down at the ground in front of him. A few paces in front, the ice pick lay discarded amidst the fog of the night. Pale green light filtered down from the full moon hanging directly overhead, only slightly obscured by the rolling clouds of mist that swept through the city streets. It cast a strange reflection on the implement, casting the blue-gray of the metal and the crimson red of the blood stained on it with eerie, sharp white highlights.

  The dizziness passed, and Henry began to move again, albeit with extreme caution. He crouched down, hands clasping around the grip of the tool that might just save his life a second time.

  I’m not out for the count just yet...

  With his good arm, he raised the iron spike back into a position where he could strike at a moment’s notice, should he need to.

  And not a moment too soon.

  The wolf sniffed once again, and this time the head of the beast along with both ears snapped to face him head on. A low, rumbling growl poured forth from between its bared teeth. Even through the haziness of his swimming vision, he could see and understand that his time was up.

  A damn shame, that.

  “Fine, then.” He spat a glob of blood onto the street. “You want me? Come and get me.”

  The wolf took a step forward, then another.

  Just as the wolf was about to put him in striking distance, a howl echoed out through the whole of Greenwich from some far-away rooftop.

  Henry looked to the nearby buildings in shock, attempting to spot if a second wolf was coming. It would be just his luck if they decided to gang up on him now, wouldn’t it? A bit funny if that were true, he figured. It meant he was considered a threat to them, unlike the rest of everyone here.

  More and more howls join the chorus, all from some considerable distance away. The closest were definitely from elsewhere within the borough, but none were visible, or even in the immediate vicinity for that matter. He wondered if the rest of the city was hearing a similar racket.

  The beast in front of him, too, paused to listen to the scene unfolding all around. Despite the lack of functional eyes, its head spun back and forth, ears twitching as it attempted to take it all in.

  Henry uses the chance to put a few paces of distance between them. If the world was going to keep showering him in lucky breaks, he intended to make use of every last one of them if he could.

  As he backed away, the werewolf relaxed its stance, head tilted back to let the light of the night sky wash down over it. It howled, joining its brothers in their cries and causing Henry to nearly fall over once more.

  Heedless of the fight, it began bounding down the street in the direction of the greatest concentration of wolves. Whether it was following some deeply embedded instinct or looking to assert itself in some sort of wolfpack pecking order, Henry couldn’t care less.

  For now, he was safe. And, by extension, so was Layla.

  A sense of elation washed over him, leaving him beyond relieved to simply be alive. His breath came to him, heavy and ragged in between wheezing laughter. The fight-or-flight instinct that had entrenched itself in his mind bled away bit by bit now that it was no longer needed. Every fiber of his body screamed for rest, which he would happily oblige as soon as he got somewhere safe.

  His thoughts felt disjointed, muddled up. Stringing together two words in his head felt like a chore. Body moving on autopilot, he staggered his way back into the pub, vision fading in and out as he lay his back against a part of the bar that had not been smashed to pieces. Still softly laughing to himself.

  It’s a… weird feeling, he thought to himself semi-coherently. I feel… snubbed? Like… like there was… supposed to be a… clear… winner…

  He faded into unconsciousness as his head slumped. Unknown to him at the time, Randall’s remains lay just on the other side of the counter.