Jensen's Point of View
I sit at my desk, elbows resting on the worn wood, another attack report spread open in front of me. The words blur for a moment as I rub my tired eyes, the tension in my shoulders tightening with every passing second. Another pack hit. Willowfang this time. No rogues, no scent trails, just chaos, blood, and weapons.
Human weapons.
I run a hand through my hair, jaw clenching. This is the forth confirmed attack where they came in human form, no shifting, no howls, just shadows moving with precision and brutality. We train for wild assaults, for rogue Lycans, for brute force. Not for this. Not for coordinated, guerrilla style tactics.
But I know it’s them.
It’s the same group. The same strategy dressed up in different clothes. One day they rip through a pack in full Lycan form, tearing down every barrier we put up. The next, they sneak in wearing boots and black coats, swinging blades and firing arrows from bows or even guns. It's unpredictable by design. And it’s
