Alpha’s Little Plaything
Draco was a wolf.
The rogues lunged, snarls filling the air. The black wolf that was Draco collided with one midair, the impact shaking the floor as he ripped its throat with a savage bite. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic. Another rogue tried to circle me, but a second wolf — one of Draco’s men, maybe — intercepted it with snapping jaws.
I pressed against the wall, hands trembling, breath shallow. My mind screamed to run, but my legs refused to move. This was madness. A nightmare.