Hunter leaned against the wall, peering through a slit in the blackout curtains.
Moonlight poured over the neighborhood in a cold wash, stretching shadows across his neighbor’s empty driveway. The house across the street was dark, save for the backyard lights glowing dimly behind it. The street was still. No dog walkers. No flickering fire pits. No teenagers loitering beneath the streetlights.
Not surprising—considering the killings.
Four bodies in two months.
In a place like Creekside, where murder was rare and animal attacks were unheard of, that kind of body count turned whispers into headlines.
They were calling it The Summer of Terror.
The Creekside Terror.
Hunter swallowed and adjusted the camera perched in his bedroom window. He wasn’t waiting for another news story—he was waiting for proof.
The garage door was still shut. The motion sensor lights hadn’t flicked on. Not yet.
But it would happen. He was sure of it.
His fingers tightened on the curtain’s edge as he glanced up at the full moon. Just like last time.
A month ago, on a night just like this, he’d seen it.
He’d been texting Abby when something moved outside. The garage door across the street lifted—slow, eerie—and not a single light came on. And then it emerged.
Something too big to be human. It swayed side to side, shifting between two legs and four as it crept forward. Its body was a shadow, but the size—larger than any dog or mountain lion—was unmistakable. The instant the door reached the top, the thing bolted. The motion lights blinked to life just in time to catch a blur—and a thick, black, furry tail.
The next morning, they found a body. Same night. Same pattern.
Hunter told Abby right away. She lived in that house, after all. But she just laughed, teased him with wolf ears and howls like it was all a game. She was wrong. She wasn’t safe.
And tonight, he was going to prove it.
Hunter’s phone buzzed, jolting his heart into his throat. He fiddled in his pocket, grabbing the phone.
Abby—“omw.”
He typed back quickly: “Hurry up and get inside. Door’s open.”
As he hit send, a familiar knot twisted in his gut. What if it got her before she made it?
He paced, trying to block out the image of Abby torn apart in the street.
Then—
Footsteps creaked on the stairs.
Hunter exhaled.
Safe. For now.
“I’m here,” Abby called, stepping into his room. “You sure your parents won’t flip about me being over this late?”
Her blonde hair shone almost white in the dark room, her black shirt and gray shorts blending into the shadows. Hunter swallowed, forcing his eyes up from her legs.
“They’re at a conference. Won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”
She glanced down the hall toward the master bedroom, brows pinched.
Hunter pretended not to notice. “Now you’ll see I’m not crazy,” he said. “There’s something in your house.”
She sighed and drifted to the window, brushing her fingers over the curtain. “Oh, you’re definitely crazy.”
“Don’t let it see us,” he said quickly, tugging the curtain shut. “Just look through the camera.”
Abby crouched beside him. Her face was unreadable. “You’re filming my grandpa’s garage now?”
“How else am I gonna prove it?” he said. “You’re not safe there, Abby. You should stay somewhere else.”
She gave a faint smile, shaking her head. “I can’t. He needs me. I’m all he has left.”
Hunter hesitated. He wanted to offer his house—but would that seem too forward? Would she even take him up on it?
“Look,” Abby said, laying a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to make up monster stories to get me over here. I like hanging out with you. Why don’t we forget this and watch a movie?”
The heat from her touch burned through him. A movie. Curled up. Just the two of them.
It was tempting.
But she wasn’t just a girl he liked.
She was in danger.
He turned back to the window. “Just a few more minutes. It happened around this time before.”
Behind him, Abby exhaled. Something shifted in her eyes. Regret?
“You can watch all night,” she said softly. “But the garage isn’t going to open.”
A loud bang shook the house.
Hunter froze. “What was that?”
The hallway yawned with darkness, empty yet pressing in. Somewhere below, faint clicking sounds rasped against the wooden floor.
He turned to Abby. She hadn’t moved.
Her eyes were on him now—solemn. “I’m sorry, Hunter.”
His stomach knotted. “Sorry for what?”
She stepped back, voice barely above a whisper. “I really do like spending time with you. I wish things could’ve been different.”
The stairwell groaned. Something massive dragged its weight upward—heavy, slow, relentless.
A shadow loomed in the doorway.
Two glinting eyes.
A growl that rattled the walls.
Then, realization washed over Hunter like ice water.
“Who do you think opens the door?”
Hunter’s scream never escaped.
The creature lunged—
And the darkness swallowed him whole.