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I am very pleased to introduce you to Shawn Keenan, hero of Shattered. Insane, ex-mob, ex-lab rat werewolf with a guilt complex. He’s all sorts of fun.

WARNING: Contains strong language. You have been warned.

He ran a hand along the wall and across the dusty carpet, breathing in the heavy, oven baked scent of the place. He was really here. This was no dream. He was out, and miles away and although he couldn’t convince himself that he was out of the woods yet, he felt a glimmer of hope that he might actually be safe.

            Shawn Keenan closed his eyes and started to shake.

            “Well, you finally got out, didn’t you?”

            The voice startled him, but in the next second, he recognized it and his tension went from ‘what the fuck?’ to ‘not again’.

            “I got out, too,” Uncle Rory said, stepping closer to be partially caught in a beam of sunlight. “But the price I paid was a little bit higher.”

            The shaking got worse and Shawn hugged his knees. “Go away.”

            “I’m not leaving. We’re with you forever.”

            “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry?!” Shawn’s voice wavered. “I can’t take it back.”

            “Exactly. There’s no way to take it back. No way to fix it. So we’ll keep reminding you of the pain you’ve caused. The lives you ended. Because you need to pay, and you’ll be paying forever.” Uncle Rory shifted so the light caught the dark red wound in the center of his forehead. “You took my freedom from me. You took my life from me and I’ll never let you forget that.”

            “I paid already,” Shawn said against his knees. “The things they did to me …”

            “Weren’t enough!” Uncle Rory snapped. “And now you got out. As if you deserve freedom. You should take that truck, turn around, and go right back to Green Valley.”

            Shawn flinched at the name and hugged his knees tighter as he shook. “Never goin back. Never, never, never, never.”

            “And what about the family? You’re goin west, not east.”

            “No. Can’t go back.” His head moved from side to side, sliding across the fabric of his white pants.

            “Are you tryin to leave Shawn?” Uncle Rory stepped closer and leaned over him. Although Shawn didn’t look up, he could see him standing there, the wound in the middle of his forehead standing out like a third eye, two more holes in his pale yellow shirt. Three shots, to make sure. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t go back. He’ll find you and he’ll kill you.” Uncle Rory tilted his head slightly. “I wonder if he’ll do it himself, or if he’ll have Liam do it? Or maybe Gavin? Or would he make Rob do it?”

            Shawn glanced up, his eyes narrow. “He won’t find me. No one found me while I was in there, no one will find me now. They probably think I’m dead … I hope they do.”

            “You really think you’re that lucky?”

            Shawn looked down again and gave a shuddering sigh. “I can’t go back. This is my only chance.” He was quiet for a moment in which Uncle Rory thankfully didn’t comment. “Even if I did go back, dad would find out how fuckin crazy I am, and he’d kill me anyway.”

            He wondered if saying that had summoned them. Uncle Rory was gone, replaced by a man in a white lab coat – Graines – and a nurse. She was holding a syringe. Shawn jerked, slamming his back into the wall. “No!”

            Graines smiled that horrible smile of his and the nurse moved forward. “No!” Shawn turned and scrambled backwards until he hit another wall. Trapped in the corner, he desperately tried to huddle himself out of existence. The nurse used impossibly strong fingers to grasp his left arm and pull it out. He screamed as the syringe drew closer. Even before the needle touched his skin, he felt phantom pain in his stomach.

            Shawn fell down, down, down into a world of pain and fear.