My nine to five is spent with a blade in my hand. I hunt, intimidate, collect debts for my uncle’s Brotherhood, the Hooligans. I believe in consequences, an effect for the cause. Fate is folklore and love? An illusion.
Until I met her. Little Red.
Some call me Reaper, the Angel of Death. She calls me her wolf.
I told her to stay away from me, knowing she doesn’t belong in my world. But I didn’t know who her father was, or what he had in store for her.
Now, protecting her is my new obsession. Because if she doesn’t belong with me, then I don’t belong anywhere.
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