1. Michael OherAge: 19Gender: MaleAppearance: Towering at 6’5” with a muscular, broad shouldered build, Michael has deep brown

My heart pounded like a drum as I sprinted through Memphis’s grimy alleys, the full moon blazing above, pulling at my bones. The air reeked of damp asphalt and rotting trash, the city’s pulse a distant hum. My skin prickled, claws itching to burst free. I couldn’t let it happen, not here, not now. Footsteps echoed behind me, sharp and deliberate, closing in. Derek’s pack. They’d found me. “Michael Oher, you can’t run forever!” a voice snarled, low and guttural. Tara. Her hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight as she leapt over a dumpster, her lithe frame cutting through the shadows. I skidded around a corner, my sneakers slipping on wet pavement. “Leave me alone!” I roared, my voice half-human, half-beast. My muscles burned, the wolf clawing at my insides, begging for release. I ducked into a narrow alley, chain-link fences rattling as I shoved past. The rink was close to my only shot. If I could reach it, maybe I could hide, blend into the crowd. “You’re one of us, Michael!” Tara called, her boots pounding closer. “Derek wants you. Join or die!” I didn’t answer. My breath came in ragged gasps, the moon’s pull tightening like a noose. I vaulted a low wall, landing hard on the other side, the ice rink’s neon sign flickering in the distance. The crowd’s roar leaked through the night, a hockey game in full swing. My kind of chaos. I pushed harder, legs pumping, the beast inside snarling for control. A shadow lunged from my left, another of Derek’s wolves, a hulking guy with scars crisscrossing his face. I dodged, my shoulder slamming into a brick wall, pain shooting through me. “Back off!” I growled, swinging a fist. It connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling. Werewolf strength my curse and my edge. “Michael!” Tara’s voice was closer now, laced with something softer, almost pleading. “You don’t have to fight us!” I didn’t trust her. Not after the whispers I’d heard about Derek Vance, the alpha who ruled Memphis’s supernatural underbelly. He wanted me caged or dead, a threat to his power. I wasn’t joining his pack. Not now, not ever. The rink loomed ahead, its steel doors glinting under streetlights. I burst through, the blast of cold air hitting me like a slap. The crowd’s cheers drowned out Tara’s shouts, the ice gleaming under harsh lights. I slipped into the stands, my tattered t-shirt clinging to my sweat-soaked chest. My eyes darted, scanning for an exit, a hiding spot. The game was tied, players crashing into boards, sticks cracking. I could blend in here, maybe. “Michael Oher?” A voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. I froze, turning to see a woman striding toward me. Blonde hair, blue eyes, maybe mid-thirties, dressed in a team jacket that didn’t hide her curves. Leigh Anne Tuohy. I’d seen her around, always helping at shelters, always watching. She stopped, hands on hips, staring me down like she could see the wolf inside. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice firm but not cruel. “You look like you’re running from something.” I swallowed, my throat dry. The moon’s pull tugged harder, my fingers twitching. “Just… watching the game,” I lied, my voice rough. I couldn’t tell her about the pack, about the beast threatening to rip free. Her eyes narrowed, scanning me my torn clothes, my heaving chest. “You’re freezing, Michael. And you’re hurt.” She pointed at my arm, where a cut from the chase oozed blood. “Come with me. Now.” “No, I’m fine,” I snapped, backing away. The crowd roared as a player scored, the noise spiking my pulse. Tara was out there, maybe inside already. I couldn’t stay. Leigh Anne stepped closer, undeterred. “You’re not fine. I’m not leaving you out here like this.” Her tone softened, but her eyes held fire. “My house is close. Food, a bed. You need it.” I stared at her, the wolf snarling in my head. Trusting her was a risk, but so was staying here. Tara’s scent lingered on the air she was near. “Why help me?” I asked, my voice low. “Because I can,” Leigh Anne said simply, her gaze unwavering. “And because you look like you’re carrying the world.” A crash from the rink’s entrance made me flinch. Tara’s silhouette appeared, her eyes locking on mine through the crowd. My heart lurched. “Fine,” I said to Leigh Anne, my voice tight. “But we need to move. Now.” She nodded, no questions, and led me toward a side exit. The rink’s chill clung to my skin as we slipped out, her car parked under a flickering streetlamp. “Get in,” she said, unlocking a sleek SUV. I hesitated, the moon’s glow burning my back. Tara’s footsteps echoed closer. “Michael!” Tara’s voice cut through, sharp and desperate. “You can’t hide from him!” I dove into the car, Leigh Anne slamming her door shut. She gunned the engine, tires squealing as we peeled out. My chest heaved, the wolf clawing harder. “Who’s after you?” she demanded, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “No one,” I muttered, gripping the seat. My nails dug in, sharpening. I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. “Bull,” she said, her voice sharp. “You’re scared, Michael. I see it. Talk to me.” I shook my head, the city blurring past—neon signs, dark alleys. The moon loomed, relentless. “You wouldn’t believe me,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Try me,” Leigh Anne shot back, her tone daring me to trust her. We pulled into a quiet suburb, her house glowing ahead big, warm, everything I’d never had. She parked, turning to face me, her eyes searching. “You’re safe here,” she said, softer now. “Whatever you’re running from, it stops at my door.” I wanted to believe her. But as we stepped out, a howl pierced the night, low and menacing. Derek’s pack. They’d tracked me. My skin burned, the wolf roaring to break free. Leigh Anne grabbed my arm, her touch electric, grounding me for a moment. “Michael, what’s out there?” she asked, her voice steady but tense. I met her eyes, my heart racing. The howl came again, closer. I had seconds before the change hit. “You don’t want to know,” I said, my voice shaking. And then the shadows moved.