Ryker’s POV
I snarled at the strange men as they threatened to attack my camp. Their appearances were different, even more than a rogue. They neither looked dangerous nor calm, Their eyes were green and they looked native.
“Who are you people?” I asked, trying to show my leadership.
“West Coast pack,” someone uttered among them. That explains why they looked different, they were foreigners.
“What do you want in my camp?” I asked sternly, glancing at them intently.
“You have what we want,” A middle aged man who I assumed to be their leader came forward, his scar starting from his left eye down to his right cheekbone. “The name is Fowler.” He continued.
“I have nothing to offer you,” I growled, not paving way for them.
“You have it, we have seen it,” He countered as he circled his
