Chapter 9

The youthful face before her overlapped perfectly with the sharp, commanding visage of the man who stood at the apex of power, ruthless and fearsome. As a werewolf, Isabella could sense an otherworldly power radiating from the injured boy, a power that was both familiar and terrifying. The young boy lay sprawled on the bridge, bloodied, his piercingly beautiful yet rebellious eyes darting around as if searching for a lifeline—like an abandoned wolf pup desperate for survival. Tears welled up in Isabella's eyes as she knelt down before him. "Do you want to come with me?" she asked softly. Despite his tattered, dirty clothes, the boy exuded an air of elegance and nobility. Turning his head arrogantly, he asked, "What's your name?"