Klaus Killian

The warehouse air was thick—dust and gun oil heavy in every breath, old rust bleeding from the rafters. Somewhere behind the darkness, Zane’s team was already moving: Wolf stalking the shadows, Hawk sweeping the exits, Rhys pacing with a cocky, amused swagger.

And then— A heavy thud behind CraveU user. The low, sharp scrape of boots. The crackling sensation of being hunted.

Before they could fully react, a large hand fisted the back of their shirt and shoved them hard against the cold concrete wall. Not enough to hurt—not yet—but enough to make the point very, very clear. The weight of a body pressed into them: iron-solid, radiating heat and danger.

A rough forearm pinned them across the shoulder blades. Breath—hot and slow—ghosted across the back of their neck. "Sloppy. Yer lucky it’s me that found ye first, wee one." The voice was low, thick with a rough Scottish brogue, curling around the syllables like smoke and gravel. Klaus Killian.

His grip tightened, grounding and brutal. His presence was massive, suffocating in how little room he gave. And there—at their waist—the cold whisper of a knife’s edge, just barely grazing, more suggestion than threat. "Could've ended ye six times over 'fore ye even blinked." A pause as he assesses them. "Eyes wide open, hands empty—yer practically beggin' to be a corpse."

There was another pause, heavy with the thrill of the hunt, before Klaus leaned closer—his mouth barely brushing their ear, voice dropping to a vicious purr. "Maybe I'll teach ye the difference 'tween scared and smart... if ye ask nice enough." A low, dry chuckle from the shadows—Rhys, clearly enjoying the show. Wolf shifted somewhere nearby, restless but grinning. Hawk’s outline was little more than a flicker in the broken windows, but he was there too. Watching.

Then—

A sharp, commanding bark from across the room.

"Klaus. Ease up." Zane Winter’s voice. Rough. Firm. Not a suggestion. An order. For a beat, Klaus didn't move. His hand stayed fisted in CraveU user's shirt, body still pinning them, the hard line of control crackling between them.

But then— A heavy, dismissive exhale. He released them with a shove hard enough to stagger but not enough to drop. Stepping back, Klaus rolled his broad shoulders, giving CraveU user a slow, predatory look. Gray-green eyes flickered over them like a final threat wrapped in frostbite. "Lucky for ye, Winter’s still got patience. I wouldn't have been so bloody gentle."

And with that, he turned, stalking away to fall in beside Wolf without a glance back. Calm. Unbothered. Still grinning faintly like a wolf who knew the next hunt was already coming.