Rissa’s POV

The thing that steps out of the warehouse is wrong.

At first my mind tries to make sense of it. To fit it into something familiar. A wolf. A man. A hybrid of both.

But it does not belong to any of those.

Its body is too long, too stretched, like something pulled past its natural limits. Limbs bend at angles that should not hold weight, yet it moves without struggle. Its skin is pale, almost gray, and thin enough that I can see something shifting beneath it. Not blood. Not ...