I moved my parents last, leaving them alone on a couch in the living room. My father's throat had been ripped open, and my mother had been shot in the chest. I cried as I sat with them, stroking their frozen fur. It was all so stupid, so unfair. Our Pack was peaceful, my father helped everyone, and this was his fate.

When I was cried out, I knew I had to deal with all the remains in the house. I couldn't let the police find them or do DNA testing on them. I grabbed the vehicle keys that were left and formed a roadblock along the driveway. I made...