The cheers inside the Bayou Mounds University arena rose like a tide, warm and bright and impossibly normal. Derek Brown stood among a sea of graduates in blue robes, the weight of his cap lighter than the weight he had carried for years. When they called his name, he walked across the stage with steady steps, accepting a diploma that felt more like a victory flag than a certificate.

  Cybersecurity. Four years. Finished on time, despite nights stained with memories of blood and moonlight. Despite the monsters he had fought, the portals he had closed, the gods he had helped kill. Somehow, he made it through.

  In the stands, Sheryl Brown stood tall and proud, clapping until her palms stung. Karen waved both arms, smiling through a sadness only she understood. Detective Olivia Hale watched quietly, her expression softening in a way Derek had never seen from her before.

  When the ceremony ended, Derek made his way toward them. Sheryl met him first, pulling him into a long embrace.

  “I am so proud of you, son,” she said. Her voice trembled just enough to reveal how much this moment meant. “After everything we have lived through, you stayed focused. You kept going.”

  “Mom, this was not easy,” Derek replied. “There were nights I thought about quitting. Everything that happened… it followed me to class, to campus, everywhere.”

  “That is life,” Sheryl said. “But you pushed through. Now it is time to move forward.”

  He nodded, though both of them knew that moving forward in Bayou Mounds was never simple.

  Sheryl clapped her hands together once, forcing brightness back into her tone. “Enough of that. Here is what we are doing. I made reservations at Markel’s Cook House. Your favorite spot.”

  Derek grinned. “Now you are talking. I am starving. Let’s go tear that place up.”

  The dinner was her graduation present to him, and she made sure it was unforgettable. They ate until their plates were clean and laughed until their stomachs hurt. For a few hours, it almost felt like the world was healed.

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  Almost.

  One year had passed since the night Lycara died in the swamp, her divine palace collapsing in an explosion that shook half the parish. The government called it an earthquake. Locals whispered about giant wolves. A few dared to say the forbidden word: werewolf.

  Gun shops had never been busier. Preppers stocked canned food and generators. Hunters patrolled the woods with silver pendants and trail cams. The bayou was a place of stories again, the kind told in low voices over dim porch lights.

  Through it all, Derek and Sheryl stayed quiet and watchful. They carried loaded pistols filled with silver rounds wherever they went. They maintained distance when the moon grew bright. And at Derek’s house, tucked behind a locked reinforced door, he built a room dedicated to surveillance. High-performance systems. Motion detectors. Thermal sensors. Custom software provided by Stone Defense Company.

  Devin Stone had offered Derek a position at his tactical firm in Sumlin, Tennessee. A generous one. A life-changing one. Derek declined.

  Lennox offered him a cybersecurity job with a hub right in Bayou Mounds. He accepted. He needed to stay here. Lycara’s defeat had not erased the feeling that something else waited in the dark.

  Later that evening, after dropping Karen off and seeing Derek to his truck, Sheryl returned home alone. The night air felt still, too still, the kind of quiet that warned her instincts.

  A black Chevy Tahoe sat three houses down from her driveway.

  No lights on. No movement. Just the silhouette of a large vehicle watching the neighborhood.

  Sheryl paused on the porch, her human eyes narrowing. She inhaled deeply. Beneath the scent of cut grass and warm pavement, something metallic and unfamiliar sat heavy in the air. Her enhanced senses prickled, urging caution.

  Inside the Tahoe, a man held a phone to his ear.

  “Hello, Lucas Kain speaking,” came the voice on the other end.

  “Yes, sir,” the man in the vehicle replied. “I have visuals on the house. It is a good-sized property. Two floors. Multiple-car garage. Large backyard and side yard. Plenty of cover.”

  Lucas exhaled thoughtfully. “Did you take photos?”

  “Yes. Quite a few.”

  “Good. I will need to link up with you and the rest of the team to finalize the extraction plan.”

  The man in the Tahoe nodded once, though no one could see it. “Not a problem, sir.”

  He ended the call.

  In the darkness of the cul-de-sac, the Tahoe remained parked, engine quiet, windows tinted like mirrors.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  And for the first time in months, something ancient inside Sheryl stirred.

  Her instincts whispered a truth she could not yet name.

  Their peace was ending.