There was nothing I could do but sit there, holding the bottle dumbly, watching him transform in front of me. He seemed to be in pain, but at the same time getting some kind of orgasmic pleasure out of it. His body twisted, expanded, and contorted as hair sprang from every inch of his now-naked body. His snout pushed out and his ears grew upward into points. His eyes turned into wide, green-flecked circle and, I swear to God, he still had that fucking annoying, fake smile. That’s what made me mad and propelled me into action.

I threw the bottle of whiskey into his face.

It shattered against his snout, whiskey spraying his face and eyes. He let out a deafening howl of agony. I knew Sean would arrive any second, so I leapt at the flailing beast, jumping over the table with my new lighter in hand, and tackled him. We both went down with a brutal crash. His claws raked my back, my skin split, and I felt the warmth of fresh blood wetting my sweatshirt. Panicked, I jammed the lighter against his head and flicked it. His head burst into flames, like grandma’s wig in the fireplace.

He screamed and threw me hard backward into the wall. I felt a rib bend and snap, and the weight of my gun falling onto me as I flipped backward.

Behind me, Sean was coming up the elevator. Above the howls of the flailing, burning werewolf I could hear him barking impatiently inside the cage. I leapt to my feet and tried to stop the elevator, but it was useless. The controls were somewhere else. All I could do was look down through the mesh and watch as a second, larger werewolf came up to the floor.

I ran, jumping over the flaming monster, and grabbed a chair. Before Sean could open the elevator gate, I jammed the chair legs into the mesh on both sides of the gate. He crashed against the meshed steel from the other side and howled. His weight bent the steel door, popping ancient rivets from their sockets and splintering flecks of paint. He was fucking huge. The chair would hold him inside the cage for a minute, tops. I had to get the hell out of there.

Suddenly, John grabbed me from behind and raked his claws across my cheek. I reeled around. He was still on fire, swinging blind. His eyes were seared shut, welded by melted flesh and fur. He howled. I made my move and shoved the gun into his mouth, pulling the trigger again and again until I heard only empty clicks. John was on the floor twitching and bleeding. The back of his wolf-like head was gone.

Everything was moving fast. My back was to the elevator door. Sean was beating it down, pounding the thick mesh apart one powerful blow at a time. I scanned the room for anything to use as a weapon, but I was panicked and bleeding badly. I didn’t need anything in particular, no silver bullets or wolf’s-head cane. All those myths were total bullshit. I just needed something sharp, flammable, or blunt to bash its skull in.