The Hunt

"Mr. Vinetto, should we make our move?"

In the darkness, pairs of glowing green eyes stared fixedly at the expeditionary scouts in the distance.

Vinetto stood shoulder to shoulder with Hans. Several elite centurions stood beside them as well, all pureblood Basilicata clansmen capable of transforming into werewolves.

"Wait a little longer."

"Understood."

The elite centurion's gaze at Vinetto's back was complicated. Who could have imagined that their patriarch's long-dead father had actually returned from the dead—and in the prime of his life, even younger than Patriarch Giuliano?

Vinetto glanced back at the elite centurion. After hesitating for a moment, he asked, "What was Lion the Cruel to you?"

"That was my grandfather."

"Your grandfather... I thought he was your father."

Vinetto gave a bitter laugh. "That old bastard died? When did it happen?"

Werewolves had long lifespans, but few ever died peacefully in bed. If Lion had not died, there was no reason Vinetto would not have seen him these past few days.

"During a border conflict with the Mexicans. They hired a Haitian Voodoo witch doctor."

"Did you get revenge?"

"We did."

Vinetto let out an "Oh" and said nothing more. Though he was still in his prime, he suddenly felt as though he had already become a frail old man.

Everyone he had known was dead. Even the son he had never met had gray hair at his temples.

As a Bloodthirsty Mad Wolf obsessed with battle, he clearly did not know how to handle such complicated feelings. So he cursed in a Southern Italian dialect.

"Prepare to attack. Leave no one alive."

The leaden clouds were scattered by the wind at just the right moment, and bright moonlight shone down, illuminating a gigantic werewolf over three meters tall.

Vinetto, transformed into a werewolf, exhaled steaming breath