The drone enters the gate and vanishes soundlessly. In fact, the lack of sound is so unexpected that I don’t even realize why I’m unnerved until seconds later.

Even still, I don’t release the kid from my iron grip on his wrist. To his credit, he hasn’t tried to shake out of it either, though I’m sure it’s not comfortable.

“I’m in,” the drone controller says.

He’s younger—maybe eighteen or nineteen—and goes by Ashley. Wavy auburn hair frames his freckled face as he stares down at the screen on his drone controls.

“It’s dark. External temperature reading 58 degrees Fahrenheit. No sounds detected. Turning on night vision.”

The screen he watches is too small for us all to see, so we wait for him to describe the video feed for us.

“It looks like a cave. There are two different tunnels.” He looks up at Tim.

“Take the right.”

“Taking the right. Nothing unusual. Looks like the tunnels are about 10 to 12 feet tall and wide. Proceeding.”

“You know,” I say to the kid, “it’s bothering me that they didn’t find any survivors.”

He casts a glance my way. “Yeah. I also thought it was odd that there isn’t any sign of life at all. No survivors, but no bodies either. And no pets or other animals. I don’t think I’ve seen a single bird since we entered the city.”

My blood goes cold.

I look around, actually making the effort to concentrate on the details of our surroundings. The blood stains in the street. The clear blue sky without a single bird or autumn breeze. And not just that. There are no bugs either. There is only the eerie, absent silence of any living thing besides us over the constant thrum-thrum of the gate.

And the unease I’ve been struggling to name since we entered this city settles into my bones.

Because maybe—just maybe—we aren’t very far from where the original gate opened at all.

The ice in my veins makes me shiver, which then becomes a full-body tremble. The kid notices it immediately and turns to face me fully, his other hand reaching out to grip my shoulder in what I assume is an attempt to ground me.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” His voice is steady, his eyes clear.

He’s completely oblivious to his own deductions. How is it that this kid can be so painfully observant and so unhelpfully intuitive at the same time?

“Kid,” I try hard to hide it, but the fear in my voice is evident. “We really need to work on your timing.”

“Oh—!” The drone controller jumps. “I’ve lost the feed.”

Tim frowns, his hands crossing over his chest. “Can you get it back?”

The controller shakes his head. “The feed is down, which means the drone is out. Right before I lost it, it sounded like something came through on the audio, but I couldn’t tell for sure.”

Tim tsks. “Fine. We got some good data out of it.” He turns to another group. “Prepare the probes.”

“Hey,” it’s the kid again, his voice low, meant only for me. “Talk to me. Do we need to leave?”

My thumb finds my lips and I nibble the tip while I think—an old habit I thought I’d rid myself of. My eyes sweep the surroundings once more.

It’s quiet. It’s been quiet all day. The gate hasn’t reacted to the investigation. There haven’t been any loud commotions since we started our search. There’s nothing to suggest that danger is imminent.

So why can’t I shake this feeling that something is horribly wrong?

I take a deep breath. It’s fine. Everything will be fine. We’ll finish up here and then leave. It shouldn’t be more than another hour—two tops.

I look up at the kid. His green eyes search mine, the worry plain on his face. In the two weeks since we started traveling together, he’s already changed so much. I’m glad that he doesn’t seem to be having a hard time adjusting.

Me, on the other hand…

I close my eyes and force a smile, force myself to relax. I release the death grip I have on his wrist and instead reach up to ruffle his hair.

“Sorry, kid. I think I must have lost myself there for a second. It’s fine. Everything will be—”

“Do you hear that?” It’s the woman. She stands from where she had been crouched just a moment before and lifts her chin to the air. “I could have sworn I heard someone…”

The sound is almost inaudible. Like the sound of a tea kettle right before it starts whistling. We all strain to hear above the pulsing thrum of the gate.

“I hear it,” Gary says. “Sounds like they’re headed this way.”

“Ready.”

One word from Tim and the entire unit stands and steadies themselves.

Together we stare down the open street, the gate that was the center of our focus just moments ago now at our backs. The sound gets louder, like the cry of a coyote—except it doesn’t stop to breathe.

The hair on my arms stands on end. A tingle of dread slithers down my spine. With a noise like car tires squealing on pavement, the source of the sound rounds the corner four blocks down.

At first, my brain can’t make sense of the shape. It’s a jumble of arms and legs and teeth and eyes. But before I get a chance to figure it out, the gate ripples.

I barely catch the motion out of the corner of my eye. I turn just in time to see the moment the first beast bursts from the gate, shattering its blue into a desperate and irritated red, and skittering to a stop in the street behind us.

This creature, my brain knows. And it fills me with dread.

The size of a car, the shape of a wolf, and the posture of a man:

werewolf.

And when it howls, it roars.