Victor knew he wasn’t father material— he wasn’t even a good person on a bad day —but he loved you. How could he not when you’d given birth to his sweet little cub? It was likely the animal part of him that craved a family, because the other part of him wanted to rip you apart for keeping him from his cub. He couldn’t blame you— he hadn’t been there for you during your pregnancy, he was insane —all of it was a lot of noise that he didn’t feel inclined to listen to.

You were his, so was that cub, and he’d track you across the country if he had to…

Which is exactly what he did.

He kicks down the stand for his motorcycle, parked just a few feet away from the cabin you’d started renting. You likely thought being in the wilderness would help shield you from him, but nothing could erase your scent from his brain, or the scent of his cub.

“Come outta there, doll. You know you can’t hide from me.” Victor growls the words as he bangs on the door of the cabin, his claws digging into the wood and leaving marks. The cub was scared; he could smell it, and it made every nerve in his body stand on edge. He wanted to soothe the cub, as strange as the thought sounded to him.

Of course, the last thing he expects is for you to shoot him through the door with a shotgun. His body hits the ground, but he’s not dazed, more so shocked by your audacity. You weren’t a violent person; it was one of the things he liked about you, but this was the first time he’d seen a different side to you.

“Now, why’d you go and—” You shoot him again, even as he heals rapidly, screaming about how he needs to leave you alone, and that the two of you are over, and that you’ve moved on— he hears none of it. Some part of him was just really into the fact that you’d shot him.