Blood Hunt: a wolf's legacy.

PROLOGUE


The majestic white horse thundered down the stone-paved street, shaking the ground beneath it as it barreled towards the old Haven Manor. The cloaked horseman expertly navigated the narrow streets, dodging the crowds of people and horses as he went. The horse beneath him was a massive, muscular creature that snorted with exertion. It ran with hurry and purpose as if sharing its rider's desperation to get to where it was going.

With each swerve, each turn, it ran flawlessly, without a pause. As they drew nearer to the manor, the crowd thinned, and the air grew colder. The moon was high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The leaves on the trees rustled, and the crows cawed as they flew overhead, as if sensing the impending horror.

The carriage screeched to a halt in front of the manor, and the hooded figure descended from the horse, his cloak dancing behind him as he walked. He was tall and lean, with a cruel smile hidden beneath his hood. He strode towards the entrance, walking gracefully and with much ease, regardless of the chaos he was about to unleash.

He pushed through the steel doors and entered the manor alert. The door closed behind him, and an eerie silence filled the air. The minutes ticked by slowly, and for almost an hour, there was no sound from within.

After what felt like forever, the gate suddenly creaked open. The hooded man emerged victorious but looked worse for wear. His clothes were torn and tattered and covered in dirt. He staggered out of the gate and collapsed, panting heavily.

For a few minutes, he lay there, the wounds he had gained healing slowly. He needed rest but not here. He had to go before he was found out. He instantly got to his feet, heading for his horse. He mounted his horse and quickly set off into the night.

He had only been gone a while when the young boy arrived at the Manor, which was home to him. With much excitement, the boy ran into the house, but the minute he crossed the gate, his excitement turned into grief at the horrendous sight before him.

"Father!" He sprinted across the room to his father's lifeless body lying on the ground. His head had been severed from his neck. The young boy struggled to comprehend the horror before him as disbelief and grief flooded his senses. "No!" He cried, tears streaming down his face.

##

The sun set over the cemetery, casting a golden hue over the rows of gravestones. The crowd had long since departed, leaving only a lonely figure standing beside a freshly-dug grave. It was a young boy, no more than ten years old.

He stood there, silent and still, staring at the grave as tears streamed down his face. He wasn't there to mourn his father's passing. He was there for another reason entirely.

As the last person's footsteps faded away, the boy fell to his knees beside the grave. He clenched his fists, his small frame shaking with anger and grief, "I swear, Father! I will find whoever did this to you, and I will make them pay!"

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the cemetery. The boy stayed there for a few more minutes, crying his heart out, before finally rising to his feet. He wiped away his tears and took one last look at the grave before turning and walking away.

As he walked, his thoughts turned to his vow of revenge. He didn't know who had killed his father or why, but he was determined to find out. He would stop at nothing until he had avenged his father's death and made whoever killed him pay.

The sun had set entirely by the time the boy reached the cemetery gates. He turned and looked back at his father's grave one last time before disappearing into the darkness. His path was uncertain, and his future unknown, but one thing was sure. He had made a promise to his father, and he intended to keep it, no matter what it took.



500 years later,

Denver.

The living room and kitchen were connected, with the latter occupying most of the area. The walls were painted his favourite shade of purple, and an artificial fireplace was below the flat screen tv. The furniture was tidy, and the place looked habitable. He walked into the kitchen, taking in every corner of the room. This was the fourth house they had seen that day. The agent hoped that he would finally like this one. "What do you think about this place?" she asked, studying him intently through her squared glasses, which she pushed quickly to her face.

She had shown him several houses, and he had not said a word to her all day except for "no" to all the other places. He remained quiet as usual, making it hard for the agent to gauge his interest. The man was athletic and good-looking, with an air of maturity beyond his years. She guessed that he was in his early twenties, a college student with too much money and no cares in the world.

He climbed the stairs to the large bedroom with a king-size bed, followed closely by the agent, who was hoping that he would finally pick this one. She was exhausted after hours of showing him house after house, trying to find the perfect fit for his picky taste. Unlike her usual customers, he was hard to please.

"Mmh..." he hummed, walking around the room as if trying to make up his mind. He liked the view from the window, which provided a clear picture of the lawn, sky, and pool in the backyard. However, aside from that, it looked just as dull as all the others she had shown him earlier. "Do you have another place?" he asked in a deep British accent that sounded just as appealing as he looked.

"You don't like this one?" she inquired.

He had only turned halfway when he caught sight of her. He jerked his head to the side to get a better view of her. His gaze fixed on her. She stood at the window, stretching her body, and her long dark hair swayed with every move. It was adorable to watch. He couldn't help himself; he stood there rooted to the ground, watching her stretch for a few minutes.

The moment she was done, she began taking off her nightgown, starting with the spaghetti straps on her shoulder. She peeled it halfway down her shoulder and was about to drop the dress when the agent lowered the curtain, blocking his view of her room.

He glanced over at her, raising a brow, and in response, she gave him an offensive smirk. "We should go; I think I know somewhere else you might like," she said, heading for the door.

"No need," he mumbled, causing her to stop outside the room. She turned to him. "On second thoughts, I'll take this place," he said, walking towards the agent with a smile that lasted for a second. "I want you to have this place cleaned out for me."

The agent was surprised but equally relieved that she did not have to deal with him anymore. She could bet a thousand dollars that it was because of the girl that he changed his mind. Guys, she thought. He walked ahead of her, hearing her mutter "pervert" under her breath, but he ignored her. They left the house and walked to the front yard. "When do you plan to move in?" the agent asked.

"There's not much to do, so I want it ready by tomorrow," he said as he walked to his car. He opened the driver's door and paused, turning his head to the side. His eyes fell on her again. She stepped out of the house next door. She was short, with her long brown hair flowing down her shoulders like a waterfall. The black long sleeve dress she wore clung to her upper body in all the right places. The dress reached half her thigh and showed off her bare, sexy legs. Her legs looked long and attractive in those pairs of red boots that made her appear much taller than she actually was. She looked breathtaking, and he was mesmerized by her, but for more than her beauty.

There was something about her, something he couldn't quite place, but it was there like a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. He continued to stare at her. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop staring at her. A red sports car pulled into her yard, and a skinny guy in a casual white shirt and biker shorts alighted from the vehicle. They kissed, and she got into the car with this guy. And off they went.

"Did you lose something, Sir?" the agent asked when he was still standing there. He gave no response, ignoring her as he got into the car, turned on the engine, and steered away.

As he drove away, he couldn't help but wonder about the girl.

Who are you?

He stopped in his tracks at the familiar sight of the lady down the street. She sat on the roadside, bathed by the streetlight above her head. She was still in the same little black dress he had seen earlier that day. But she was alone now, looking rather downcasted as opposed to earlier. Concerned for her safety, he paused, observing her for a moment. It was late, and the street was deserted. She looked like a possible victim, positioning herself for her assailant.

The stench of alcohol was potent, stemming from her. He hesitated for a bit and then went on his way. After walking a few paces down another street, he halted again upon hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. It sounded like a small group, heavily intoxicated. He could tell by the strong odor of alcohol they exuded. Their laughter and loud voices soon subsided suddenly, and he was sure what had caught their attention.

"My gosh! She's pretty," he heard a husky voice sa