The thugs in the Porsche didn’t give a damn about Jasmine or Rico or Tom. They wanted the phials of blood from Woollard’s apartment, chilled and packed tight in that frosty metal box. Tom didn’t know why, and right now he didn’t much care. He only wanted to fight back.

With their objective achieved, the hands withdrew. The car began to rock up and down as the heavies attempted to raise up the burning car enough to open the trunk lid and prise out the gory hoard inside.

Tom nuzzled his lupine head into Jasmine’s waist. She yelled and pummelled his skull with her fists, but he barely felt the blows. Her musky cologne irritated his sensitive nose, masked the smell of her flesh … His teeth scraped against the skin of her stomach. He drooled over her and she shrieked. If he bit her she would stop. If he bit her he could feed …

No! He tore his head away from her, tugging through the fabric of her seat belt as he did so. It snapped, and she fell half on top of him. She recoiled, pushing against him, kicking him, as she struggled to get clear.

‘It’s OK, Jas!’ Rico shouted to her above the din. ‘’S’OK. It’s still Tom!’

Jasmine froze, and stared into Tom’s eyes. Her own were streaming from the smoke and the terror, but she didn’t blink or break contact. Then slowly, trying not to shake, she nodded.

Rico had wriggled free of his own belt, and was staring at Tom in wonder. Past him, through the rear windshield, Tom saw the Porsche ’wolves dragging Woollard’s metal carry-case clear of the car. Rage flared in his belly, his eyes narrowed at the thought of all they had done.

He turned to the front and clawed out the remaining shards of glass protruding like teeth from the frame of the windshield. Then he grabbed the neck of Rico’s top with one clumsy paw and backed up and out, hauling the boy clear of the blazing car.

As they emerged, Tom saw the garbage collectors lying beaten and dazed all around their vehicle, where the thugs had cleared them away from their prey. He could hear the slow, whining approach of distant sirens. Laying Rico on the ground, Tom turned to find Jasmine had already crawled out by herself. Clear of the car, she swept up Rico in her arms and held him close.

The thugs were clambering into the Porsche with their prize. Rage growled in Tom’s belly. He bounded up on to the exposed undercarriage of the over-toppled car. It rocked under his weight, lending leverage to his leap as he flew at them.