Rain hammered the windshield as the car sat in silence.
Lucien's words still hung in the air like a loaded gun.
A monster.
Elias exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.
"So let me get this straight… That thing in the photo—whatever it is—crawled out of The Codex Noctis and is walking around wearing Victor Crane's face?"
Lucien nodded, her breath still uneven.
"It's called a shapeshifter. And if my ancestors are right… it's just the beginning."
Dave tightened his grip on the wheel, jaw locked.
"Then we kill it—before it gets any stronger."
The car's speakerphone crackled to life.
Jonas Brooks' voice came through, low and grim.
"You guys still breathing?"
Elias picked up. "For now."
"You better get to the damn warehouse fast," Jonas said. "We're already inside. And something's not right."
Elias exchanged a look with Dave. "Define not right."
A pause. Static. Then—
"The place is empty. No Crane. No bodies. No footprints. But…"
Jonas hesitated.
"The air feels wrong. Like the whole building's holding its breath."
Elias didn't like that.
Not one damn bit.
"We're on our way," he said, hanging up.
Dave slammed the gas. The car roared forward, cutting through the rain.
Dockside Warehouse #47
The place looked abandoned.
But Elias knew better.
The rusted frame loomed ahead.
Shattered windows. Peeling metal. The main door had been forced open—Jonas and his team already inside.
Elias stepped out of the car, pain flaring in his side.
Evelyn caught his arm.
"You sure you're good for this?"
He smirked, adjusting his coat.
"Wouldn't miss it."
Dave cocked his pistol. "Let's move."
Inside, the air was colder.
The scent of damp concrete, rot, and something… unnatural clung to the shadows.
Jonas stood near the center, flashlight sweeping through the gloom. His men were tense, weapons raised, eyes tracking every creak.
"No sign of him?" Elias asked.
Jonas shook his head.
"Nothing. But—"
CLANG.
A loud metallic thud echoed from above.
Everyone turned. Weapons up.
Elias' heart pounded.
"Rafters."
A shadow shifted up high.
A figure stepped into the light.
And Elias felt his stomach drop.
Victor Crane.
Or at least, something wearing him.
Its movements were wrong. Too fluid. Too mechanical. Like a puppet figuring out how to use human skin.
Dave's breath hitched.
"That's not my father."
Lucien whispered something in an ancient tongue, fingers twitching like she was holding a curse back.
The thing grinned.
Then it dropped.
Fast.
Too fast.
It hit the ground on all fours—bones cracking under its skin, limbs twitching. Its head tilted unnaturally.
Its eyes—Crane's eyes—locked onto Elias.
And then it spoke.
In Crane's voice.
"You shouldn't have come here, detective."
The warehouse erupted into chaos.