Wintertooth had once been a pretty great pack—or at least, they thought so.
With a young Alpha in charge, they weren't exactly swimming in respect from outsiders. Most people treated them like the scrappy underdogs of the werewolf world.
But Thorin wasn't having it. He'd assert his position at every chance, like a kid standing on a chair to look taller. Respect or not, the pack had been happy, and that counts for something, right?
Life in the small pack was simple but fulfilling. Thorin wasn't the kind of Alpha to bark orders from a distance.
He rolled up his sleeves and got involved in everything—whether it was organizing patrols to secure their territory or pitching in to ensure there was enough food for everyone.
Of course, it didn't hurt that he was stupidly good-looking. Let's be real, his jawline alone probably inspired half the loyalty in the pack.
