Esprit de l'escalier

Liame’s black lip curled under his snout as a low rumble rolled through his exposed fangs. The tall shadow froze in his tracks, crow-bar still gripped in his gloved hands.
Liame’s deep yellow stare narrowed. Holding eye contact with the leader of this intrusion, his muscles tightened beneath his fur. He waited for the enemy to make the first move. He could hear his wife’s labored panting echo from the family room behind him. Not one of these men will live to lay a hand on her, he swore.
Wooden floor boards creaked as two more dark coats crawled through the shattered front window of his house. The second stopped half-way through, his right leg still dangling outside. He was fat.
“You didn’t tell me he had a huge dog!” puffed the fat man in a loud whisper, as if Liame couldn’t hear him.
“That’s not a dog. That’s a wolf,” corrected the frozen crowbar man, “that’s him. That’s the monster…the beast we are here to send back to hell.” Shaking, he blinked as perspiration gathered around his eyes and dripped from his brow.
Silver-tipped fur spiked on his back. Liame snarled louder and bayed a warning.
The full moon’s glow reflected on the dust in the air as the shadows began a careful advance as though approaching a rattler. They started to raise their weapons, a hammer, a shot gun and a crowbar. An arm went up and they paused. “You hear that?”
Liame smiled to himself as he felt the presence of his brothers behind him.
The click of claws against the cold wood floors ticked like an ominous clock.
No man would pass through this hallway. Not past him, not past his brothers and most certainly not to his wife giving birth in the next room.

***Critiques? Comments? Anyone? Please?