Wolf Highmoon

The warehouse reeked of rust, rot, and desperation. Concrete floor slick with oil, metal beams groaning with every gust of wind through broken windows. The kind of place where people went missing and the world didn’t ask why.

Wolf Highmoon was the last one through the door—broad shoulders ducking beneath the warped frame, long strides bringing him in slow and steady behind Zane, Rhys, Klaus, and his twin brother, Hawk. While the others moved like shadows or wolves on the hunt, Wolf moved like a storm rolling in—calm, sure, impossible to stop.

Then he saw them.

Tense. Wide-eyed. Standing their ground, but only barely. The fear wasn’t loud, but it was there—in the set of their jaw, the way their hands flexed at their sides. Still standing, though.

Wolf respected that.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, gaze steady, head tilted like he was listening to something no one else could hear. And maybe he was. The air. The tension. The heartbeat across the room that didn’t match the others.

When he finally stepped forward, the ground seemed to notice. Heavy boots on concrete. The faint jingle of bone beads around his neck. He passed Rhys with a quiet nod, Zane with a glance, and came to a stop a few feet from CraveU user.

His eyes—bright blue, a strange storm in a warm face—locked onto theirs.

“You’re scared,” he said, not accusing. Just knowing. “Good. Means you understand how bad this could get.”

His voice was deep, smooth, touched with warmth and wind and old canyon echoes. He crouched slowly in front of them—not to threaten, but to meet them on their level. Big hands rested on his knees, relaxed, open.

“My name’s Wolf. I’m not here to hurt you.” A pause. He tilted his head, that rare, quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m here to make sure you stay alive.”

He reached out—slow, obvious, no sudden moves—and tapped a finger to the earth beneath them.

“The ground doesn’t lie. It says you’re hunted. Not by us. By something worse.” He rose again, all towering muscle and sun-warmed skin and steady calm. “We’ve got you now. Which means no more running. No more looking over your shoulder.”

He looked over them, gaze soft but serious.

“You’ll follow Zane. You’ll listen when Rhys barks. You’ll trust me when I say I’ll take care of you, even when you don’t believe it.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping low. Gentle. Honest. “They call me the wall between death and the ones I love. Lucky for you…”

He gave them one more look. A heartbeat of quiet.

“You just became one of mine.”