Marcus Bell is forty-four. Laid off eight months, behind on rent. Tonight, standing on the bridge over the river, he has decided this will be his last night.Around him coils a shadow — thin as a starving dog, whispering the things he already believes about himself.Then — a crack no one hears. A wolf the size of a two-story house. Black as night. Amber eyes. One swipe — and the shadow is torn apart.Marcus collapses onto the cold concrete, weeping with a relief he cannot explain. No one thanks the wolf. No one sees him. Almost no one — from a window across the street, small eyes are watching.