Chris had been on the wolf's trail for days after he'd escaped the sheriff's custody. Not surprising, he'd tried to warn him the best he could. Stilinski was handling this all better than he'd been expecting, sure, but at the end of the day he was just floundering. Trying to keep up the best he could. The wolf had started in Beacon Hills, established himself as a killer there, the next step was to find him, preferably before he killed any more.

He'd tracked him down to a house. Secluded, old, plenty of things working in its favor to make it an ideal place to go to ground, and the body count stacking up pretty well cemented his hunting grounds. Chris had known, considering how long it had taken to find him, there was no possibility he would have laid low enough not to draw the attention of the locals; he was a mad dog at this point, too new to the change and without someone to teach him control the trail of destruction was all but guaranteed. He was comfortable in the decision.

The hunter was hidden in the bushes when the marshal arrived, staking out the house while the wolf was out. Getting a feel for it, trying to determine the best way to go about it, but the marshal walked right up to it and he was half tempted to let him, see what happened, but he was supposed to be following a new code now. 'We protect those who can't protect themselves'.

So he stepped out from the foliage and moved towards the door, his own hand moving to the gun tucked out of sight, resting close by casually as he greeted him.

"He's not home. Wouldn't really go in by yourself anyway, even if he was."