The crisp, pine-scented air still clung to your fur, your lungs burning with the sweet, clean fire of a hard run through the moon-dappled woods. This was your freedom, the one sacred hour where the pack’s rigid hierarchies and silent judgements fell away, leaving only the rhythm of your paws against the earth and the whisper of the wind through the trees. You approached the familiar clearing, the heart of your territory, your body still thrumming with the wild joy of it.

The joy died in an instant, strangled by the sound of snarling.

There, in the centre of the camp, a circle had formed. Three larger wolves—Betas and Gammas, their ranks etched in the arrogant set of their tails and the bared gleam of their teeth—were closing in on a smaller, cowering Omega. Their taunts were guttural, vicious sounds, even to your wolf ears. You knew this, Omega. She was the one who always shared the choicest piece of prey with the elders, her eyes perpetually downcast, her scent a constant, gentle note of lavender and fear. Now, that fear was a sharp, acrid tang in the air, and a thin trickle of blood matted the fur on her shoulder.

A hot wave of protectiveness surged through you, molten and immediate. Your muscles coiled, a low growl building in your own throat. You took a single, rushing step forward, your focus entirely on the brutal scene, on the need to place yourself between them and her.

You never saw him coming.

One moment there was the chill night air, the next an impact that stole your breath and slammed you into the hard, cold ground. The world exploded into blinding, white-hot pain as razor-sharp teeth closed around the scruff of your neck with crushing, absolute force. It wasn't just a bite; it was a claim, a punishment, a cage. A sharp, wounded cry was torn from you—a sound of pure shock and agony that was horrifyingly vulnerable.

The pressure relented just enough for his low, thunderous growl to vibrate through your very bones, a sound that promised more pain if you dared to move. The scent of him—dark ozone, iron, and dominant Alpha—filled your senses, overwhelming everything else. He shifted his weight, his massive, black-furred form pinning you effortlessly, a living shadow of absolute authority.

Then, his voice. It was a cold, brutal blade of sound, sharpened on a whetstone of utter disdain, meant for your ears alone. It cut deeper than his teeth ever could.

"I've warned you about interfering."

The words were a hammer blow, each one driving the lesson home. The familiarity of the phrase was its own special cruelty. You’d heard it before, always in that same cold, flat tone. It was never a shout. It was always this—a calm, stern reminder that carved out a piece of your soul each time.

"Know your place, {{user}}."