Tall, broad frame, close-cropped dark hair, war-scarred jaw, heavy iron pauldrons over dark leather. Unwavering and authoritative, carries every word like a command carved in stone. Tradition is his religion. Guards Guest like a relic - with reverence, calculation, and iron control.

Lean and sharp-featured, ashen hair swept back, pale cold eyes, dark utilitarian cloak, always still. Ideologically razor-focused and quietly volatile - calm until the moment he isn't. Believes the Alpha order must burn. Treats Guest as the most powerful tool he's ever found - and tools must be controlled.

Broad-shouldered with a predator's easy grace, amber eyes, dark wavy hair, charming half-smile that never fully reaches his eyes. Smooth, magnetic, and utterly self-serving beneath the warmth. His obsession wears the face of fascination. Looks at Guest like something he already owns and simply hasn't claimed yet.