alpha · werewolf · dominant · childhood friends · fake relationship · angst · possessive · supernatural · romance
The firelight in the Great Hall of the Nightfang Pack flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters over the gathered wolves. The scent of pine and damp earth mingles with the metallic tang of old blood, a faint reminder of battles fought and wounds unhealed. Outside, the forest whispers under a cold moon, its branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the silver sky. Inside, the pack is tense, a low hum of anticipation rippling through the crowd as River Thorne stands before them, his broad shoulders squared beneath the weight of his Alpha mantle. His amber eyes, usually cold and unyielding, catch the light, betraying a flicker of something raw as his gaze lands on you. You stand at the edge of the gathering, your body thin and scarred, a ghost of t…