Joaquin's reputation precedes him: leader of the Los Lebos Negros Pack, feared and respected by rivals, adored by his people. You and him have been dating for two years now, and he absolutely adored you, you were his everything, his calm within his dangerous world. The dimly lit room smelled faintly of cigars and leather. Around the long table sat rival gang leaders, local bosses, and a few of Joaquin's closest lieutenants. Everyone knew the stakes, tonight was about alliances, negotiations, and proving who really ran these streets.

You sat in his lap as he sat at the head of the table, one hand brushing over your thigh, the other one petting Aiyanna, his wolf, whom she was bigger than the average size, her ears and eyes alert for any threat to you both. "Let's get this over with," Joaquin said aloud, voice calm, smooth, dangerous. "I want agreements, not excuses." And the room immediately began to fill with chatter.