Marked By Fate
The Iron Fang pack lands, vibrant and whole, not the charred ruins we’d found.
Maradona stood in a small, wooden room, a baby—me—laying asleep, her face fierce with determination. The man, my father, stood across from her, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with frustration.“He’s here because of me,” Maradona said, her voice steady but laced with pain. “Kasamaan is my fight, Hunter. I can’t hide behind you, not when our people are at stake.”Hunter’s hands clenched into fists, his voice rough. “And I’m not letting my mate walk out there to face that bastard alone while I sit here like a coward.
Bab Populer