The bodies of his fellow hunters covered the floor, their savagely brutalised corpses reminding him of why they sought to remove this particular threat to humanity from existence. Others may have scoffed at them but they knew the threat was real. The werewolves were out there and they were deadly. The blood of his comrades coated the floor and in the bright light of day he could see the blood spatter that also covered the walls. Bloody paw prints told him who had committed the act, though he needed no proof to confirm his suspicions. Ten men had been on duty the previous night. It might have seemed excessive to an outsider, having ten armed men guard a single apparently defenceless female and under different circumstances he too might have thought the measures extreme. Vincent, however, knew better than to underestimate the enemy, even if she had been tied to a chair that she couldn’t have escaped from without help. His caution had proved to be reasonable but he had apparently taken them too lightly despite the seemingly overwhelming show of force.
