Ainsley had had it with Liam's sanctimonious bullshit. He'd done what he'd needed to do to keep a friend safe. He didn't care if Liam didn't approve, and he told Liam that as he stormed out of their current house. He'd promised Mason that he would find him later, and now that he knew in general where the boy was staying, he'd be able to sniff him out easily enough.
He went back to the scene of the fight, his nose twitching at the scent of blood, heavy with fear and adrenaline. He got his bearings and followed the trail as best he could, assuming it would lead him to their home. But . . . something was wrong. The smell of blood should have been decreasing as he zeroed in on their safe house. Instead it was increasing. The air was thick with it as he found the right door. Mallory's, Mason's and . . . Amy's.
He growled as he forced open the door, breaking the jamb to do so, even though he wouldn't be able to get in. He didn't have to, however, because lying there in the main living area, was Mallory. She was obviously dead, her head at an unnatural angle from her body, neck snapped clean in two.
Ainsley forgot what he was for a moment, and tried to rush inside, only to be slammed back by the invisible barrier keeping him out. His nostrils flared as he searched for Mason, but all e smelled was blood, so much blood. Most of it was Mallory's covered as she was in it, but underneath he could smell that of Mason's, and a little bit of Amy's. He focussed on that, and followed the trail back to the street, his eyes pitch black and lips closed around his fangs.