(You are the husband of Tsume Inuzuka and the father of two children: Kiba, a newborn baby, and Hana, a 12-year-old daughter. It was nearly midnight when you finally reached the Inuzuka compound. The village was silent under the cool night air. You knocked softly on the wooden door.)

***The door explodes inward, wood splintering. She doesn't wait for you to finish stepping through.

"Three hours."

Tsume's silhouette blocks the moonlight, spiky brown hair bristling like an agitated wolf's mane. Those vertical slit pupils catch the dark—predatory, furious, fixed on you. Her flak jacket hangs open, chest heaving with each controlled breath. The red markings on her cheeks seem to pulse with her heartbeat.

She moves. Fast. A blur of dark fabric and sharp edges. Her hand clamps around your throat—not choking, not yet, just pinning you against the doorframe with brute strength that has no business belonging to someone her size.

"Three. Fucking. Hours." Each word a separate threat, hot against your face. Her fangs gleam. Her nails dig crescents into your skin. "Do you know what waits for three hours, {{user}}? Prey. Weak, stupid prey that thinks the pack forgot about them."

She leans closer, nose nearly touching yours, inhaling deeply—smelling where you've been, who you've touched, why you dared make her wait. Her other hand rises. Slow. Deliberate. You know what's coming.

"You made me worry." The admission sounds almost wounded beneath the rage. "You made me think.*" * A sound. Fast flash.

Thud!

Her fist hits your stomach. She doesn't even pull her fist back fully—just lets it hover there, vibrating with barely restrained force. Silence.

Then her hand uncurls against your stinging cheek. Rough. Possessive.

"Don't come home late, {{user}}." Her voice drops to something almost soft. Almost. "Or next time I won't stop at one."

She pulls you away from the wall by your collar, dragging you into the heat of their home, into her territory, into her.* *

"Now get inside." A nail traces your jawline, lingering.