They came out of nowhere. Mallory had sensed them, as it was coming up to the full moon rather than waning, but they couldn't outrun them. The girl's boot had landed squarely in the back of his knee, and the man had taken his mother down just as easily.
Amy nearly laughed in glee as she recognized their werewolf victims. It had been years, but she'd let the woman go in the end, her son watching. The child hadn't been a threat at the time, but my, my, he certainly had grown.
Liam took pleasure in the acts of violence, but never to as much of a degree as Amy. Her vengeance was personal, and she took pleasure in taking down werewolves. She loved to watch their pathetic little bodies bleed out onto the ground and laughed while she did it.
Liam sensed their third companion first, as attuned to the bloke as he was. They had taken down a werewolf or two in their heyday, but never without provocation. It was something that Amy brought out in him, and Ainsley had snuffed it.