Chapter 34

Achilles spat blood, his chest heaving as he faced his opponent. "You're a Von Lunar!" he growled, wiping his split lip with the back of his hand.

The robed figure paused, a hint of amusement in their voice. "Impressive. Your senses are as sharp as they say."

Without warning, Achilles lunged forward, his fist connecting with the figure's stomach. The blow would have dropped a normal man, but his opponent merely grunted and retaliated with a vicious uppercut that sent Achilles stumbling backward.

They circled each other, neither willing to give ground. Achilles' mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. How could a Von Lunar be working against their own family?

The figure struck again, a flurry of punches that Achilles barely managed to block. He countered with a sweeping kick, but his opponent leaped over it with inhuman grace.

"Who are you?" Achilles demanded, ducking under a roundhouse kick. "Why are you doing this?"

Instead of answering, the figure pressed their attack. Their fist grazed Achilles' cheek, leaving a stinging cut. Achilles retaliated with a series of quick jabs, forcing his opponent back.

The warehouse echoed with the sounds of their battle - the crack of fists against flesh, the heavy thuds of bodies slamming into concrete. Neither combatant showed signs of tiring, their werewolf stamina pushing them beyond human limits.

Achilles feinted left, then drove his elbow into the figure's ribs. He felt bone crack beneath the impact, but his opponent barely flinched. They grabbed Achilles' arm, twisting it painfully before hurling him across the room.

Achilles crashed into a stack of crates, wood splintering around him. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the burning pain in his side. The robed figure was already upon him, their attacks relentless.

As they traded blows, Achilles' frustration grew. Every instinct told him he should know this person, yet their identity remained maddeningly out of reach. The familiar scent mixed with the copper tang of blood, driving him to the edge of his control.

With a primal roar that shook the warehouse, Achilles's body began to transform. Bones cracked and muscles bulged as he shifted into his werewolf form. His clothes tore away, revealing thick brown fur that rippled over his expanding frame. His face elongated into a powerful muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth, and his eyes blazed an electric blue.

"Magnificent," the robed figure breathed, a hint of pride in their voice.

Achilles lunged forward, his enhanced speed and strength catching his opponent off guard. His claws raked across the figure's chest, shredding the robe and drawing blood. The man staggered back, but quickly regained his footing.

The warehouse became a blur of motion as Achilles pressed his advantage. His powerful limbs carried him across the space in leaps and bounds, striking from all angles. The robed figure, still in human form, struggled to keep up with the onslaught.

Achilles's jaws snapped shut inches from the man's throat, missing by a hair's breadth. He followed up with a swipe of his massive paw, sending the figure crashing into a wall. The concrete cracked under the impact.

But as Achilles moved in for another attack, he felt a tremor run through his body. His muscles spasmed, and for a moment, his form flickered.

The robed man chuckled, wiping blood from his chin. "You're still a youngling, Achilles. You won't be able to maintain that form much longer."

Achilles snarled in defiance, but he could feel the truth in those words. The strain of holding his werewolf form was already taking its toll. His movements became less fluid, his reactions a fraction slower.

The man straightened up, brushing off his tattered robe. "Impressive as you are, you have much to learn about your true potential."

Achilles fell to his knees, his body trembling as he retransformed into his human form. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he gasped for air, exhausted from the intense fight. The robed man approached him with slow, deliberate steps.

Gently grasping Achilles's jaw, the mysterious figure tilted his head up, forcing eye contact. "Your father would be angry if I killed you," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and contemplation.

Just as the words left his lips, a thunderous crash echoed through the warehouse. A powerful figure burst through the wall, sending debris flying in all directions.

"I sure will," a deep voice growled.

Achilles's eyes widened in recognition. It was his father, Lucius Von Lunar, his face a mask of cold fury.

Before the robed man could react, Lucius's fist connected with his jaw. The impact was so forceful that it sent the mysterious assailant hurtling through the opposite wall of the warehouse, leaving a gaping hole in the concrete.

The robed figure tumbled across the ground outside, quickly scrambling to his feet. Without a backward glance, he took off running, disappearing into the night.

Lucius turned to his son, concern replacing the anger in his eyes. "Achilles," he said, kneeling beside him. "Are you alright?"

Lucius extended a hand to his son, his grip firm as he helped Achilles to his feet. The younger Von Lunar swayed slightly, still winded from the intense battle.

"I'm okay, Dad," Achilles managed, his voice hoarse. "Just need a moment."

Lucius nodded, his piercing blue eyes scanning his son for any serious injuries. Satisfied that Achilles wasn't in immediate danger, he asked, "And Shea? Is she safe?"

Achilles's head snapped up, surprise etched across his face. "How did you—"

"Know?" Lucius finished, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I've known about Shea's return since the moment she set foot in Lockewood. But that's a conversation for later. Is she safe?"

Shaking off his shock, Achilles replied, "Yes, she's at the mansion with Alaric. I made sure of it before coming here."

Relief washed over Lucius's features. "Good. That's good." He glanced at the hole in the warehouse wall, his expression hardening. "We need to get back. It's not safe here, and there's much we need to discuss."

As they made their way to Lucius's car, Achilles couldn't help but ask, "Dad, who was that? He... he smelled like a Von Lunar."

Lucius's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "That, son, is part of what we need to talk about. But not here. Let's get home first."

They climbed into the sleek black vehicle, Lucius gunning the engine. As they sped through the dark Lockewood streets, Achilles's mind raced. His father knew about Shea, had known all along. And that mysterious attacker – a Von Lunar? The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but the picture they formed was more complex and dangerous than Achilles had ever imagined.

"What is going on," muttered Achilles as he fainted.