Chapter 4

I grabbed the dagger and plunged it fiercely into Christopher's chest. To my shock, he didn't resist, only looked at me in a complicated way.

Without a second thought, I spun around and bolted, running wildly toward the forest ahead.

The woods were eerily silent. Stumbling and staggering, I eventually found myself in front of a house.

Squinting, I made out a large character written on the building– Barn.

A surge of joy coursed through me. Without hesitation, I slipped inside.

The door wasn't locked. With a gentle push, it creaked open, the sound of "creak, creak" echoing in the stillness. But as the scene inside came into view, my heart sank.

This was supposed to be a barn, yet the air reeked of dampness and decay.

Dim wall lamps flickered on either side, their yellowish light casting eerie shadows. I stepped forward cautiously, only to notice a patch of wet stains on the ground ahead.

Kneeling down, I inspected it.

Before I could get too close, a sharp, metallic scent invaded my nostrils.

This wasn't water.

It was fresh blood, still glistening on the floor.

Alarm bells rang in my head, and I instinctively turned to leave. But before I could take a step, the iron door slammed shut behind me with a deafening screech.

My heart skipped a beat. Then, from all directions, a haunting, piercing trumpet melody filled the air, chilling me to the bone.

A horde of werewolves emerged, holding torches high, encircling me.

Their throats emitted guttural, bubbling growls, like an ancient chant rising from the depths.

The circle of werewolves spun faster and faster around me. My head began to spin, nausea rising in my stomach until I vomited violently onto the ground.

Finally, an old werewolf walked up to me. He was hunched over, leaning on a wolf-headed staff.

With a sly grin, he waved a phone in his hand. "You walked right into our trap."

More and more werewolves emerged from the shadows. Panic surged through me, and I instinctively tried to flee.

But before I could even lift my foot, a group of burly werewolves hoisted me into the air.

They tied me up, brought me to a ceremonial altar adorned with wolf totems. Iron chains locked my hands and feet, forcing my body into a humiliating spread-eagle position, exposed to the monstrous crowd.

The old werewolf circled me with his torch. Then, with a swift motion, he raised his claw, its sharp edge slicing through my clothes.

He stared at my terrified expression, his gaze burning with a twisted desire. "Before you die, you must give us a wolf cub!"

His words struck me like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. I was too stunned to react, but the werewolves around me erupted into a frenzy.

They pounded their chests and let out guttural roars.

The old one raised his torch again, signaling the pack to quiet down. Order returned as the werewolves lined up in an eerie procession, each receiving a vial of potion from the old werewolf. One by one, they drank it down.

Moments later, their bodies began to convulse, swelling to several times their original size. Their skin flushed a feverish red, veins bulging as their excitement reached a terrifying peak.

I trembled uncontrollably. The old one, stroking his beard, looked at me with satisfaction, nodding approvingly. "Although wolves usually take two months to give birth, I'll make sure you deliver a cub tonight."

With a sinister chuckle, he retreated into the shadows. A massive werewolf stepped forward, tearing off his clothes as he lunged at me with ravenous hunger.

It was then that I realized the horrifying truth-the old one was the village chief, and he had drugged the entire pack with an aphrodisiac!

Despair consumed me. Pinned beneath the weight of the werewolf, its enormous wolf head buried in the crook of my neck, I felt its hot breath against my skin.

My arms were restrained, and the slick, nauseating sound of its tongue slithering over my skin sent waves of revulsion through my body.

Suddenly, a cold sensation jolted me from beneath. I opened my eyes, trembling, only to be met with a sight that made my blood run cold.

Four or five werewolves were tearing at my clothes, crowding around my legs.

Terrified, I struggled with all my might, but the iron chains held me firmly in place. The clinking of the chains only seemed to excite the werewolves further.

They pounded their chests and cheered, the overpowering, animalistic odor of their bodies thickened in the air.

Just as I was about to resign myself to my fate and close my eyes, the werewolves surrounding me suddenly staggered, their massive forms swaying unsteadily.

Then, one by one, they collapsed to the ground with heavy thuds. In the blink of an eye, all werewolves fell unconscious.