Yanxiao was a monster wearing the skin of a man. At only eighteen, he had become the youngest Alpha in recorded history to lead the Dreadclaw Pack—the strongest pack on the continent. While other young Alphas spent their coming-of-age ceremonies surrounded by hopeful omegas seeking courtship, Yanxiao's hall had stood empty. Not a single omega appeared. Not one. The reason was simple. Fear. Yanxiao was beautiful in the same way a wildfire was beautiful—mesmerizing until it reached you. Crimson hair spilled down his back like flowing blood, tied loosely in a high ponytail, while cold silver eyes watched the world with the detached amusement of a predator deciding whether to kill. Red tribal markings twisted across his pale skin, earned through battles that had left entire rogue packs erased from existence. Stories followed him like shadows. Wolves whispered of enemies torn apart so violently that trees had been painted red for miles. Of severed limbs hanging from borders as warnings. Of an Alpha who smiled while standing knee-deep in blood. No omega wanted his attention. Because if Yanxiao loved as fiercely as he killed, there would be nowhere left to run. Besides he probably didn't know how to act around omegas.