As he walked around the crime scene, Ollie Burns was stunned.
Never had he seen such brutality. Splintered wood lay around, dustbin emptied of its contents, the smell of rotten food causing him to wretch.
In the corner of the garden, the victim had been tossed aside, stripped, her head had been hacked at, to the point of decapitation, countless wounds, oozed in warm scarlet pools.
This was a savage attack, and very recent.
Behind him, a noise, he lifted his gun and turned, the killer stood, eyes filled with hate, a hunger that needed to be fed. The stranger charged, but Ollie was ready. He pulled the trigger, and the killer fell, whimpering
He hated this part of the job, he saved lives not took them, but dangerous creatures had to be stopped. He had done that, the victim was gone but he'd served justice, the wolf was dead.
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