Einar
The last thing I remember dreaming about was the painting on my ceiling before I was woken up by some commotion coming from down stairs. I got out of my bed in a rush, barely awake. I could tell something was terribly wrong, and from the way my skin crawled with displeasure it had to do with my wolf. I took the stairs two at a time, sometimes three- when I heard Finnys distressed voice yelling for someone to stop. I blasted through the front door and into the yard, ready to draw blood.
“Stop it please! He had done nothing!” Finny yelled, he was being held down by nearly four men as the rest of them two or more, pinned down Gray to the wall. I could tell they were wolves so they knew better than to intrude.
“Let them go!” I growled out, stepping up to the men that had steel balls f
