Shouts and screams tore through the air. The clash of metal rang out sharp and brutal, mixing with guttural snarls that echoed off the walls of the banquet hall. Blood was everywhere, splattered across white tablecloths, pooling on the floor, dripping from the edges of overturned chairs. Chaos had swallowed the celebration whole.
Someone had shoved Derek into a cramped, dark space, a closet or perhaps a storage crate. He pressed against the wooden slats, body shaking so hard his teeth rattled. Through the thin gaps he watched the massacre unfold.
Lycans in their massive, powerful shifted forms lunged at the masked intruders, but something was terribly wrong. Their movements were sluggish, heavy, as though invisible chains dragged at every limb. They looked drugged, weakened, their once-lethal strikes falling short.
