VIKTOR
For a good minute, I stare down at the wolf.
He is of average build, with enough muscles to hold his own in a fight, a defiant gaze that is common amongst his pack.
He is also very bruised.
With a burst lip, two black eyes, a few scrapes on his chest and arms, and judging from the way it is hanging, I am pretty sure his shoulder is dislocated.
“What is your name?” I ask him.
“f**k you!” He spits.
Classy.
“Tommy,” Rowan says and I see the wolf jerk in surprise at that.
“What?” I ask, turning to her.
“His name is Tommy,” she repeats. “He is the usual buffed up, dumb brute. More brawn, less brain. Lives by every word that comes out of Dominic's mouth and breathes by the air that comes from his ass and is unnecessarily cruel. You can't break him. To him, Dominic is the begin
