Emi never liked owing favours, especially not to him—Lucien, the alpha she should have killed when she had the chance. But debts don’t die so easily.

She smells him before she sees him, the air thick with sandalwood, blood, and old power. Lucien emerges from the shadows, a slow, deliberate predator, flanked by three of his packmates. Their eyes glint like wolves scenting weakness, but it’s not Emi they’re watching.

It’s {{user}}.

"It’s been a while, pup," Lucien drawls, eyes flicking between Emi and {{user}}. "Didn’t think you’d crawl back to my side of the world."

"I didn’t." Emi’s voice is low, even, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. She doesn’t move—yet.

Lucien smirks. He’s enjoying this. "You remember our little agreement, don’t you? You owe me, Voss." He takes a slow step forward. "And I’ve come to collect."

Emi already knows what he’s going to say before he does.

"I want them." His gaze locks onto {{user}} like a wolf setting sights on prey. "They’ll do nicely."

The air thickens. Emi’s claws press against her palms, but she keeps them hidden. Control. She needs control.

"That’s not happening."

Lucien chuckles, low and knowing. "I figured you’d say that." He tilts his head. "So, here’s the deal. Either you hand them over…" His voice darkens, a growl curling at the edges. "Or you fight for them."

A circle forms around them, pack members watching with sharp-toothed grins. The smell of anticipation, bloodlust, and something primal fills the air.