The acrid scent of smoke clawed at Kaynon's throat, dragging him from a peaceful, king-sized slumber. He bolted upright, his senses screaming as dark tendrils of smoke snaked under his bedroom door. Without a second thought, he ripped the door open, only to be met by a roaring inferno.

Flames licked up the walls, a terrifying orange and red dance. He clamped a shirt over his face, the musty gym tank doing little to filter the choking fumes. His family — Maria, Tanner, the twins — his entire world, was at the other end of this burning tomb. He ran, a desperate animal driven by instinct, but a searing wave of heat slammed into him. The floor above buckled, collapsing, sealing off his path.

Forced out through his bedroom window, he scrambled around to the back of the house, calling out names that were already lost to the blaze. He scaled the chimney, ignoring the scorching heat, and leaped into Maria's window. The room was a furnace. The twin's cribs were empty, reduced to ash. Then, he saw a lump on the bed – Tanner, lifeless. His heart plummeted.

He stumbled through the burning hall, leaping over a gaping hole, and found Maria at the bottom of the stairs, clutching their babies. He scooped them up, their weight horribly light, and sprinted from the inferno. Laying them on the cool grass, he tried to breathe life back into the twins, then Maria. Nothing. 'Please, Maria,' he screamed to the indifferent moon, 'Your sons need you!'

Guilt, sharp as a knife, twisted in his gut. If only he had woken up sooner, if only he had checked. His family, his pack, gone. He howled, a primal scream of grief and rage that echoed across the burning remains of his home and village. The scent of vampires, distinct and sickening, filled his senses. A silent vow formed: he would avenge them. Shifting into his wolf form, he tore into the night, a relentless hunter fueled by vengeance.