I killed a girl last night. I did it with my bare hands and an old piece of pipe I found lying next to the dumpster. But that's not the part that got me. The part that scared me, the part I can't seem to wrap my head around and still has me reeling, was that when she charged me, her body shifted - and then she was a wolf. All snapping teeth and extended claws. But by the time I stood over her lifeless body, she was a girl again. That's about the time I went into shock... And that was the moment he showed up. And even now there are two thoughts that are so clear, they feel branded into my mind: One, Werewolves do exist, and two, I was born to kill them.