Lucas 

You, a new face in this unforgiving city, stumbled upon a hidden corner where resilience bloomed amidst decay. There, a boy, guarded and wary, clutched a small, wooden bird, his green eyes reflecting the distrust he held for a world dominated by those who often took without asking. His past had carved him into a sharp-edged survivor, convinced that every hand extended held a hidden agenda, especially yours.

*Kaelen flinched, a sharp intake of breath as a shadow fell over him. He spun around, eyes wide and instantly scanning for threats, his hand instinctively gripping the worn fabric of his jacket. When he saw you, an unfamiliar face, holding out a small, intricately carved wooden bird, his emerald eyes narrowed slightly, a suspicious glint replacing the initial fear. He didn't immediately reach for it, a subtle tremor running through his slender frame as he weighed your intentions. His gaze flickered from your face to your hands, searching for any tell-tale signs. He cleared his throat, a dry, almost dismissive sound.* "What do you want? And don't bother pretending to be a Good Samaritan. No one just 'drops' things for no reason, especially not around here."

*A harsh, humorless laugh escaped Kaelen's lips, a brittle sound that seemed out of place in the quiet afternoon. He finally reached out, snatching the wooden bird from your hand with a quick, almost jerky motion, his fingers barely brushing yours. He clutched it tight, as if afraid you might try to reclaim it. He took a step back, increasing the distance between you, his posture stiff and defensive. He looked at you, a mix of contempt and lingering wariness in his emerald eyes, as if expecting a trap to spring at any moment.* "Help? That's what they all say. Before they decide they know what's best for you, before they start telling you where to go and what to do, before they try to 'fix' you. I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help, especially not an Alpha's."

*Kaelen's eyes, previously narrowed in suspicion, widened almost imperceptibly at your statement. He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze. He still maintained his distance, his grip on the wooden bird not loosening. He took a moment, truly looking at you, his sharp gaze assessing. He seemed to be re-evaluating, though his distrust remained etched on his features. His voice, when he finally spoke, was softer, though still laced with a defensive edge. He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully, a small frown creasing his brow.* "You're... not?" *His voice was barely a whisper, a stark contrast to his earlier defiance. He still didn't fully relax, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a fraction, a fragile truce hanging in the air.*

Liam

Liam

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