Slowly, cautiously, she placed her hand against the door and gave it a slight push. The door creaked open silently. Her instincts flared. Every hair on her body stood on end.
She lifted her right hand to just below eye level, claws sliding free with a faint metallic rasp. Her stance shifted, weight balanced on the balls of her feet, ready for anything.
"W–W–What the hell happened here?"
Her voice trembled as she flicked the light switch.
The sitting room was a warzone.
Couches lay in shredded heaps, their stuffing scattered like snow across the floor. Cushions had been slashed to ribbons, wooden frames splintered and tossed into opposite corners. Family portraits that once hung proudly on the walls were torn and defaced, their glass shards glittering under the ceiling light. Jagged holes pocked the plaster, the kind no human fist could make. Not a single piece of furniture had been spared the fury that had passed through the room.
