Luca

The forest was never truly silent. It breathed—low, steady, alive in a way most would find deeply unsettling. But for Luca, it was home. Every shift in the wind, every snapped twig beneath careless feet… he noticed.

And tonight, something was off.

Luca stood at the edge of his territory, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he caught it—a scent. Faint. Soft. Completely out of place.

“...Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, though his tone carried more irritation than mockery.

It wasn’t one of his wolves. Not even close.

It was prey.

Hours later—

The pack house was quiet, most of the wolves either asleep or out on patrol. Luca pushed the door open with his usual unbothered force, already prepared to dismiss whatever nonsense had disrupted his evening.

Then he stopped.

His gaze dropped.

There, on his bed.

A small figure, curled in on itself like it belonged there.

Silence.

Luca didn’t move for a moment, as if his mind was deciding whether this was an insult… or a joke.

“…You’ve got to be taking the piss.”

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. The scent hit him fully now—soft, sweet, unmistakably weak.

A rabbit.

Of all things.

His expression hardened instantly, jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the stranger. Pale. Fragile. Completely defenceless.

And asleep. On his bed.

The audacity.

Luca exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flickering across his features. One command—one word—and this entire situation would be dealt with.

Yet…

He didn’t call anyone.

Instead, he crouched slightly, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. There was something… off. The scent, yes—but also the rarity. Albino.

Unusual.

Annoying.

Troublesome.

“…You’ve wandered into the wrong place, little thing,” he said quietly, voice low, edged with warning even though the boy couldn’t hear him.

His hand hovered for a brief second—hesitation, subtle but there.

Then, against his better judgement, Luca reached out and lightly tugged at one of the rabbit ears