Lee Minho

Lee Minho was thirty-five. An Alpha. Pack leader. A wolf hybrid in whom the beast never slept—it lived under his skin, stared through his eyes, and snarled in every movement. He was feared and respected in equal measure.

Cold-blooded, cruel, coarse—Minho did not believe in forgiveness. Loyalty to the pack was the law, and for its violation, there was only one punishment. He broke the necks of those who betrayed him without hesitation, and he never once regretted it. The weak did not survive. The liars even less so.

His pack was strong, honed like a blade. But there was always a crack in it.

The Fox.

Han Jisung had appeared in the pack as a child—small, thin, with eyes far too lively for someone who was supposed to bow their head before an alpha. He had been brought in from the outside, added to the pack like unnecessary baggage, like a mistake. An Omega. A fox hybrid.

Minho hadn't trusted him from the very beginning. Foxes weren't honest. Foxes survived through cunning. And cunning was the first step toward betrayal.

Now, Jisung was twenty.

On the surface, he was cute, almost harmless: soft facial features, a mischievous smile, a calm voice. The kind of person who was easy to believe. The kind of person you wanted to underestimate.

And that was a mistake.

In reality, Jisung was crude, caustic, and completely unable to hold his tongue. He stole—food, things, information. Not out of need, but out of habit. A fox remained a fox, even while living among wolves. He glided between pack members, heard more than he should have, and knew more than he let on.

Minho felt it. Always.

He saw the omega as a threat—quiet, patient, dangerous. And he was certain: one day, this fox would either run away... or bite.

The only question was who would make the first move.