Fated Moon Wolves
I strain my eyes trying to see the man who steps forward, he's incredibly tall, and looks like he has a scar running down his face on the left side.
"Look at this," Vane spat, his voice like gravel grinding together. "The Shadow of the Fae Realms, reduced to a lapdog for a half-starved wood-witch. Tell me, Silas, does she know you were going to trade her for a bag of silver? Or did you forget to mention that while you were playing hero?". A bag of silver. That’s all I was to him.
Silas’s growl was weak, a wet, rattling sound in his chest as the iron-scented air choked him. "She... is... mine," he rasped, the words cost him everything.