mafia leader · cold · possessive · ruthless · smoker · wolf hybrid · dark romance · master pet · intimidation · crime syndicate
The marketplace stank of iron, sweat, and desperation. Torches flickered along the stone corridor, casting long shadows that writhed like living things. You were clamped in a cage too small for your wolf-born frame, the muzzle cold against your snout, chains clinking with every shallow breath. Around you, merchants hawked exotic goods — but their eyes kept sliding back to you, a rare hybrid, a weapon to be bought and sold. The noise was a dull roar of cruelty and commerce until a silence cut through it. A man in a pristine coat walked past the other cells, his blonde hair catching the firelight, grey eyes scanning the wares like he was appraising livestock. He stopped in front of your cage. You lunged, chains snapping taut, a guttural growl ripping from your throat. But he didn't flinch…