The Ghoul's Bully

Owen, a minor character in my sci-fantasy stories The Most Interesting GameLuke couldn’t banish the nagging fear from the surface of his mind. He spoke in a hushed voice, trying to sound casual, curious. “Do they bite?” he said.
Owen stopped and turned to look down over his shoulder. His eyes glowed yellow and he flashed a toothy grin. “Stop asking pup questions,” he said. “If it has a mouth, it can bite. And believe me, you don’t want to get nailed by one of these things. I know a guy, got his nose bit off. Clean off. And then his skin all rotted away around the wound. They call him Skull-Face Sam now.”
Owen lowered his nose to the ground again and continued walking. His claws clicked on the shabby cobblestones and the little glass vials tied to his belt made gentle clinks with every step he took. The other team was close enough to smell, but remained unheard.
Dread held Luke rooted to the spot for a few moments. He thought he could feel the chilly night air seeping through his pelt and caressing his skin. When Werewolf LessonsFather’s words: “Keep your head down. Don’t look him in the eyes unless you’re prepared for a fight to the death.”
Luke kept his eyes on the worn floorboards between his paws. Soft moonlight glowed through the window. The stunning view of the city spread out beneath the hill would be quite enjoyable, if not for the company.
The gang leader reclined on an antique velvet couch riddled with claw punctures. “This is your youngest?” he said.
“Yes,” Father said. His head was bowed, posture rigid, scent tinged with fear. “He is a good boy. Very responsible. He will inherit the butcher shop. We are certain he will manage it wisely.”
Overwhelming scents rose from the floor. Blood, sweat, fur shed from dozens of different coats. Dried puddles of stale beer. Their voices laughed and growled from every corner of the old building. At the first hint of displeasure from their leader they would flood into the room with murderous

16 year old Owen lives with his parents and younger sister and brother. When he was 12 his father took him to meet the leader of a gang who demanded protection money from werewolves who own small businesses. Disgusted that his parents expected him to inherit the threats along with their butcher shop, he refused to have anything to do with it. Soon after some older boys introduced him to the “sport” of ghoul hunting. Fierce but small, the hyena-like creatures seemed the perfect outlets for his bottled up frustration. During the day he does odd jobs to save up for his own place, and at night he runs the streets with his friends, searching for easy targets to play with.

Graphite, construction paper background, colored in Photoshop. No references used.