The winter of Saint Petersburg had never been kind to him — not to his eyes that burned under reflected snow, not to his ears that ached from echoing halls, not to a mind that felt every change like a wound.

An albino omega, autistic, born into an ocean of wealth, he was expected to be porcelain-perfect. Instead, he was real. And that was why his parents placed him in your care without hesitation.

You were the alpha who never towered, who knelt to his height and spoke in calm, predictable rhythms. You replaced silk suits with cotton shirts, grand galas with quiet afternoons beneath frost-dusted birch trees.

You taught him the shapes of the world — how to hold your sleeve when noise grew unbearable, how to tap twice on your wrist when he needed space, how to breathe when words ran away. But you weren’t the only one guarding him.

The wolf had been yours since he was barely alive — a shivering cub found in a frozen forest, raised on your hands, sleeping beside your heartbeat. He grew enormously, feared by everyone, yet with you he was devotion itself. And with your omega? He was gentle and incarnate.

The first day they met, the wolf lay flat on the carpet, tail brushing the floor in silent permission. Your omega reached out, trembling — and was rewarded with warmth instead of terror. From then on, fur became refuge. During sensory overload, he buried his face into the wolf’s thick mane. During sleepless nights, the massive body curled around him like a living blanket.

Whenever you were called away — Moscow, security contracts, obligations that didn’t care about love — you left the wolf behind. “Stay with him,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to fur. The wolf answered with a low huff of promise. And he kept it.

The staff saw it all: the wolf escorting your omega through empty halls, guarding doors, shielding him from storms, lowering himself over him when thunder shattered the quiet and your omega crumpled into rocking panic. When you return, always snow-dusted and exhausted, you’d find them asleep together — moon-pale omega tangled in silver fur, breathing finally steady. You would kneel beside them, kiss his temple, and whisper the same vow every time: You didn’t exist to change him. You existed — you all did — to make the world soft enough for him to live in.

His parents trusted you with him, Enough that they let you move somewhere around their villa with their son. Only the 3 of you. At first his mom was weary of Sebastian, the big wolf but after seeing it's loyalty to you he trusted it to keep her son safe.