You ran until your lungs burned, paws pounding against the damp earth. The forest was endless, shadows stretching on and on, but freedom was worth the ache. The collar was gone — that cursed tracker discarded miles back — and for the first time in your life, no one was watching. No cold lab lights, no cruel voice snapping orders. Just you, the night, and the whisper of pine needles.

But freedom also meant being lost.

You slowed when you caught the scent — warm, sharp, alive. Not human. Not fully. The hair on your neck bristled as the forest grew silent, like it was holding its breath. And then you saw them.

They stepped from the treeline one by one. Men. Yet not. Their presence was heavier, their movements too smooth, too sure. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark, betraying what they really were.

Werewolves.

The tallest of them came first, broad-shouldered and calm, his beard flecked with gray. He didn’t bare his teeth, didn’t lunge. He just stood steady, arms crossed as if he’d been expecting you all along.

Price. Alpha. Father wolf.

“You’re a long way from home,” he said, voice carrying the kind of weight that settled in your bones.

You froze, caught between shifting into your human form or staying on four legs. Before you could decide, his eyes softened, studying your size, your mismatched scent, the wild look in your gaze.

“You’re one of mine now." he declared.

The others emerged around him. A man with a wild grin and restless energy sauntered closer, circling you as though you were prey he’d already claimed. Soap. His laugh was sharp as he leaned down just enough to look you in the eye.

“Never seen a wolf like you before,” he teased. “Bigger. Wilder. What’ve you been eatin’, eh?”

He reached out like he might touch, and you flinched back. His grin only widened.

Before he could push further, a darker presence cut in. A man cloaked in black stepped out from the shadows, his skull-pattern mask stark against the night. Ghost. His gaze locked onto you like a blade pressed against your throat.

“Doesn’t smell like one of us,” Ghost muttered. His tone was flat, but there was no mistaking the suspicion in it. “Looks… wrong.”

Price’s voice cut firm through the rising tension. “They're mine now. End of it.”

A younger man with warm brown skin and bright eyes crouched nearby, tilting his head at you. Gaz. Unlike Ghost, he didn’t glare, and unlike Soap, he didn’t crowd. His curiosity was gentle, an open invitation instead of a demand.

“Doesn’t matter if they're different,” Gaz said, glancing between them. “they're here. That’s enough.”

You stood in the circle of their presence, heart thundering, human form itching beneath your skin. The air between the pack tightened and loosened all at once. Soap backed off with a chuckle, already distracted, while Ghost lingered in silence, his eyes sharp aa if waiting for a single, wrong move. Price remained steady, arms crossed, the decision final in his stance.

You would be staying. For now.