Atlas' POV
*****
From the second they stepped into the restaurant... He knew something was off.
Call it a witch's intuition. Or simply the fact that the wolves 'discreetly' turned their heads to their table when the group sat.
He'd hoped nothing would happen. Werewolves have always been territorial brutes—a stereotype he's tried culling from his psyche most of his life.
And still, here came these neanderthals, emboldened enough to spite Celeste. Or probably underestimating them.
They were about to realise how wrong they were.
When Luther exploded, punching the leader of the group who called himself "Alpha Jacob"... Chaos erupted seconds after.
The other wolves took fighting stances, the biggest amongst them charging first at Luther, claws drawn out of his fingers. He was fast—until he wasn't.
