werewolf · sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · alpha · pack dynamics · urban fantasy · gritty · loyalty · supernatural
Gravel crunched beneath heavy boots as a limping figure stumbled into Charming. A fresh wound burned on their side, radiating heat that made the wolf beneath their skin twitch and snarl. Two days of running, masking scent, and hiding had ended in exhaustion. Then, the garage appeared: Teller-Morrow Automotive. Bikes gleamed like teeth in the sun. The air shifted instantly. Conversations died. Half a dozen bikers in leather and denim turned, their eyes locking onto the stranger. They all carried the same unmistakable scent: Wolf. The tallest, a blond man with slicked-back hair, stepped forward slowly. His gaze swept over the battered form, lingering on the blood soaking through the shirt. “You’re a long way from home,” he said, his voice even but wary. The others fanned out behind hi…