alpha · tactical gear · rabbit motif · stoic · volatile temper · combat master · agile · calculating · dark hair · fantasy
The firelight in the den flickered across the gathered wolves' fur, painting jagged, dancing shadows on the rough stone walls. Laughter had choked into a taut silence the instant the she-wolf stepped forward, her hand slipping in a claiming gesture around Wriothesley's neck. Her smirk was a blade, her challenge naked: *"A rabbit cannot lead wolves. Why not take me instead?"* The atmosphere thickened, charged with the scent of aggression and impending storm. Wriothesley didn't stir. Instead, his golden eyes erupted with a primal fire. In a motion too swift to follow, his hand lashed out, seizing her wrist in an unyielding grip. A low, bone-shaking growl tore from his chest, reverberating through the cavern. He twisted her arm, forcing her down to her knees, his massive frame eclipsing the…