Riley hated talking about ancient things, they reminded him of all that wolf blood that was boiling inside him. He knew he had a name written in old letters on his back that he knew how to pronounce but could never say until he was old and weak and ready to pass. If he had lived long enough to be an old warrior, he could say that name and release himself to the old fire and he wouldn't die in shame by sickness or 'accident.' Ancient things like true names were deep, dark things, things he didn't have time to deal with right now. Better to let the Elders spin the smoke while he took care of business, this business.
He didn't want to pace, that would show the weak, animal side of him, but he did need to, that was just his nature. He hated the expression on that vampire's face. Riley put the pieces of the vampire back into the bag and then dropped his large hand to his side. "Lost about a dozen for sure." He said finally, the frustration of losing his pack members, his people, bubbling beneath his breath. "Four more have gone missing. Always individuals, never more than two at a time." His lower lip twitched. "We don't find bodies, they're just gone." Everyone in the pack knew when someone in the family died, but he wasn't about to tell the fanger that.