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with sincerity.
            The man shook his head mutely and waved his gun. He was one of their good little sheep and was determined to reap the praise and adoration of his master. She sighed sadly; she knew the fate of sheep that were cared for by wolves.
            “This isn’t going to work,” she called out loudly into the night.
            “Be quiet,” the man hissed, looking nervously around him into the dark.
            They must be near, she thought as she folded her arms across her chest. Of course they would be near; they’d put the bait in her path and were probably waiting expectantly to see if she would take it. Mia loathed them, the Family, and loved them in equal parts. All they had ever known was the easy prey of humans, the sweet taste of their warm blood and the tangy flavor of their flesh. Centuries of conditioning as the top of the food chain, the predator that walked in plain site as it hunted within the shadows, her kind couldn’t imagine another way, but Mia was determined to try. She was young enough to have hope still and planned to live her life on her terms.
            “I will shoot you.” The man stepped closer, pointing his gun with more purpose.
            The light she’d left on earlier to illuminate her front door caused the dark metal of his gun to shimmer. She could see a silencer fitted snugly to the weapon, and she was sure he would indeed shoot her. The Family was big on making a point, and a lesson was never quite learned unless pain was involved. He had probably been told to shoot her where it would hurt but not enough to cause “real” harm. The poor fool didn’t understand he would have to shoot her in the heart or the head to do any real damage. If shot, the old Mia would have smiled as she pressed her fingers to the wound, pushing and prodding until her fingers were coated with her own blood. Humans were usually squeamish when faced with blood, and to see a nightmare come to life, reveling in their own pain, always sent her prey into a tailspin.
            “What’s your name?” she asked softly.
            “I will hurt you.”
            Oh, she thought, they’d chosen well with this lovely little bit of male delicacy. He would hurt her and enjoy every minute of it. With each second that passed and she didn’t attack him, the sadistic nature that helped herald him into the loving bosom of her family became stronger. She was no longer the monster he’d initially feared; she was weak and easily controlled. The fact that the family had sent him to cause her pain probably reinforced this belief, bolstering his confidence. Mia didn’t need the gift of mind reading to know he would enjoy breaking her, but it would be done with a slow precision that would ensure that, once broken, she would never be put back together again.
            “Shoot me if you must, but when I step inside and shut the door I suggest you run and run fast. As I’m sure you’re aware, they do not tolerate mistakes.”
            Mia turned quickly and opened her front door, stepping inside the dimly lit hall of her tiny, first-floor apartment, and shut the door quickly. The man didn’t shoot her, and before she could exhale the breath she’d been holding she heard a muffled cry. It seemed as if the night sounds disappeared, and all she could hear was the sound of that man’s death. They’d chosen him because in the past she’d hated men like him, sheep that tried to pass themselves off as predators. They were always too loud and too rough, taking when there was no need, and lacking the patience to really learn how to hunt.
            The sounds of fabric ripping and then flesh caused her heart to race in anticipation. She could smell blood mingling with the scents of the night, and the slurping gulps of who that had sent him caused that forbidden half of her to moan in ecstasy. Mia clenched her hands at her sides and tried to