The night air bit at Alex's skin as he stepped through the tall grass. The forest was quiet. No insects, no birds. Just the hollow echo of his own footsteps.
He wasn't here on a tip. Just an old news clipping, a death ruled as an "animal attack" and a name: Gavin Ward. What had caught his attention wasn't the claw marks on the walls or the shredded body found in a locked room—it was the sulfur trace that no forensics report would ever list.
Crossroads deal.
Alex had seen enough to recognize the signs. The man's sudden rise to wealth five years ago, his unexplainable luck, and now the brutal end? Classic hellhound signature.
(Author: It can vary from person to person some have 10 years some less some more)
He stood in the remains of Gavin's cabin. Blood still stained the floorboards, dried into dark streaks. He knelt, brushing two fingers over a deep gouge in the wood. A whisper of sound echoed in his ears—low, guttural growls and the screaming of a man.
His stomach tightened. Not from fear, but anticipation.
' It's still out there meaning there's another one, i have to find him before it does ' he thought.
Digging through Gavin's personal records, Alex found a receipt for a pawned item—a gold watch, recently reclaimed by a man named Derrick Miles. When he cross-referenced Derrick's name, a pattern emerged: same small town, same sudden fortune five years ago. Only difference? Derrick was still alive.
Barely.
When Alex found him, Derrick was holed up in a roadside motel, shaking, armed with a shotgun.
"I heard it last night," Derrick whispered, eyes wild. "It was outside.Scratching. Snarling. I saw the door handle move, man. It's real. I didn't think it would come for me I thought I had more time."
Alex didn't respond. The deal's time was up. The hellhound will come.
He stayed.
Not for Derrick—but for the thing following him.
It came at midnight.
The lights blew out in a burst of static. The temperature dropped. Derrick screamed, his breath fogging the air, as claw marks raked the motel door. Then—silence.
Alex didn't move, crouched by the window, blade ready, eyes scanning the dark. He felt it before he saw it.
The hellhound emerged from the shadows, black as pitch, a void with eyes. Muscles coiled beneath its spectral skin, claws clicking against the floor as it stepped through the shattered doorway.
It pounced.
Alex rolled forward, sweeping his blade upward just as the beast descended. Sparks flew as his blade met with it's claws. He wasn't fast enough—its paw slammed into his ribs, flinging him against the wall. The impact knocked the air from his lungs.
Barely a few seconds had passed when heard a scream he immediately got up and rushed towards the hound but it had already injured the man seriously.
'Fuck..'
"Come at me, you freak" Alex taunted it.
It growled—a low, guttural sound that made the walls vibrate.
It lunged again, and Alex met it mid-air.
As the hound's teeth snapped inches from his face, Alex reached deep—not for a weapon, but for the thread of power he could feel pulsing from the beast.
It wasn't just muscle and claws. It was rage. Hunger. A fragment of hell itself.
He grabbed it.
A shock ran up his arm—like lightning laced with fire—flooding his body. For a heartbeat, time stopped.His senses exploded. He could hear the hound's heartbeat, smell its blood, anticipate its next movement before it made it.
The beast shrieked, jerking back, eyes blazing.
He hurt it. And it knew.
They clashed again, this time, Alex moving faster, sharper. He dodged with inhuman precision, slammed his blade across its shoulder, and drove it into the wall. The creature roared, twisted free, and bolted through the shattered window in a blur of smoke and blood.
Gone.
Alex turned to Derrick, bleeding, gasping, clawed open from chest to hip. Too far gone.
"I didn't want this…" Derrick whispered. "I just… wanted to.."
Alex stayed with him until he stopped breathing.
---
The night was still again.
Alex stood outside the ruined motel, wind tugging at his jacket. Power still buzzed beneath his skin. A piece of the hellhound raw, volatile burned in his veins. Enhanced senses. Faster reflexes. He could feel it in his bones.
By the time he reached the motel, exhaustion clung to him. He sat at the desk, flipping open his journal. The words blurred before refocusing.
He looked at himself in the mirror, he looked the same. But he felt different. Like his edges had been sharpened just a little too much.
His phone buzzed. Caleb.
"Got another lead. You in?"
Alex exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. He stared at the message before typing a reply.
"Taking a break. Keep me posted."
Three months. Maybe four. Enough To figure out how to control his powers thoroughly.
Tomorrow, for the first time in a long while, there would be no hunt.
---
To be continued...