Cure For The Lycan

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1.

❈•❈•❈

2145, New York City. 

Things changed since we lycanthropes made a peace pact—a transposition—with the humans.

We used to be the top of the food chain and the beasts of the wild. But since we were forced by Alpha Maddox—the king of all lycans—to live amongst the humans in peace, it has been nothing but cataclysm, and the lycanthrope race has known crisis ever since. Our Alpha, David, had no other choice but to obey, and as the Beta, his word was my command.

In this so-called new age, we lycans have only three options. Be bred for war like horses, only to be killed like cattle later. Or choose to be hunted down and executed. The final option for those who refuse is to be cured—to be stripped of our beasts within. 

“Damien!” Victoria’s scream cut into my reverie and reminded me why we were running in the first place. The government had ordered an arrest of all lycanthropes if they refused to be cured. 

Cowards.

I dodged a can of teargas thrown at my side raced to my wife amid the chaos to inspect her side where a silver bullet had lodged itself between her ribs. “Stay awake! You cannot give up now, we’ve come this far.” I tear off a piece of my shirt with my claws and bunch it at her side. “Victoria!”

“Damien…” I watch as her veins turn blue. Blood trickled down her lip from her nose. “Wolfsbane…” 

“Shit,” I curse and drag her into an alley. “Shit,” I mutter again. She coughs more blood and I feel the cold seeping into her skin. “Vicky, you're going to be fine. Fight it, please!”

“Over there!” someone shouts. “There are some of the beasts in the corner!” I hear the army’s footsteps thud closer in our direction as more blood seeps out of Victoria’s nose, mouth and wound. 

She weakly grabs at my shirt. “Damien…fight for…” she coughs out more blood, “the…pack…” 

The pounding footsteps grow closer.

Panic gripped me like a talon and I set her on the ground, kneeling beside her. “No, no. Don't you die on me, Victoria! You are a lycan, fight it! Don't leave me here! No!” Death pays no heed to the living as my wife suddenly stills in my arms and after a moment, she slumps and gives out a shuddering breath. 

“Victoria! Victoria!” I cry, burying my face in her cold neck, breathing in her scent for the last time. 

“There he is!” I lift my head and uncontrollable rage surges through me when I stare at the people that took my mate away from me standing only a foot away from me. I willingly give my humanity over to my beast and embrace the violent anger of a lycanthrope. We both have the same goal; 

Revenge.

With a growl, I stood to my feet and glared at the armed men with nothing but hatred. Black fur rippled down my arm and my elongated canines pressed against my lip. I perceived pure terror from them. Good. I will kill them all!

“Easy there, big guy,” one of the armed men said.

Five men against one beast? The odds are in my favour. 

Without a second thought, I pounce on the man in the middle, aiming for his heart, when a syringe is fired into my chest, pausing me in mid-attack. I rip it out violently and swipe at the man, whose shield does nothing to hinder my attack. I feel another prick at my back and stumble a step back, unfocused.

Tranquilizer.

Seven needles are shot at me until I stumble around, unbalanced and wobbly. Finally, I feel my body make contact with the ground with a bang. 

I felt someone squat beside me. “Should we kill him,” he asked. I tried to at least growl at him, but my body was on involuntary lockdown. I felt my consciousness slipping away and before I succumbed to the darkness, I heard a sentence that almost made me spit in anger. 

“No. He will prove useful when we cure him.”