The Lycan's fated weak mate
The air crackled with tension, the scent of ozone thick in the air. Mason Allen, a scrawny, freckled boy of sixteen, struggled to breathe, his face turning a sickly shade of purple. The monstrous hand, a tapestry of dark scales and sharp claws, tightened around his throat, cutting off his air supply. His eyes, wide with terror, met the crimson gaze of Ste-phen Draven, a creature of nightmare, a being of raw power and untamed fury.
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