My thoughts wandered, and I found myself recalling the first time I saw Caden. It was when I was ten years old. I had lived in the slums as far back as I could remember. Our home had bare walls, and hunger was a constant companion. My father was a gambler. Whenever he lost, he'd come home drunk, taking his anger out on my mother and me. He'd beat her until her skin was black and blue. She endured it all just to protect me—even if it meant more pain for herself. One night, I woke up, and my mother was gone. I was only five. I cried out, "Mom, I want Mom ... " My father's response was brutal. He slapped me hard. "You'll never see your mother again! Crying all the time ... you're worthless! No wonder I lose money every day!" I fell ill from the stress. When I recovered, a heavily made-up she-wolf had appeared in our home. "Here's your new mother. Call her that!" my father barked, pointing at her. I cried, "No, you're not my mother!" The punishment that followed was fierce. I quickly learned to watch my words and act sweetly toward her. At ten, my father told us he had a big business deal lined up. If it went well, we'd be rich. "Will we really live in a big house? Will we eat good food?" I asked, hopeful. "Of course!" That day, my stepmother was unusually kind and even gave me a candy. Two days later, my father took us to a small cabin in the mountains. Three intimidating werewolves waited there. I overheard them talking about kidnapping someone. "Do you understand? When we bring them here, you keep watch over them. If the business goes well, you'll get your share!" one of the werewolves growled. I stood behind my father, watching as a hulking werewolf with a cruel sneer slapped my father's shoulder.My father, bowing and scraping, was holding some bills in his hand, green as envy. His smile was wide but forced. My stepmother stood beside him, smiling so much that the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. It wasn't the sharp, bitter expression she usually wore. "Got it, Thrice. Don't worry, we won't hold you up!" she said with a grin, her voice sweet but fake. I tilted my head, my eyes fixed on my father's hand. Was this the money that would finally change our lives? That night, my father and stepmother were unusually cheerful. My stepmother even cooked extra meat and didn't scold me while I ate. The next morning, my father hurried them through breakfast and urged them to leave for their 'business.' He had even changed into a new, faded indigo jacket. The three of them went to the cabin in the mountains. Less than ten minutes later, Thrice entered the room again, this time with two werewolf children—one boy and one girl—who looked to be about my age. The werewolf boy stood slightly taller than the girl. His face was a mask of indifference, his gaze steady and calm. Both his hands, along with the girl's, were bound tightly with rough twine, leaving them helpless. The moment I saw him, I was drawn to him. He was stunning, every feature sharp and striking. His skin was pale, almost luminous, contrasting with his thick brows and dark, expressive eyes. His nose was high and straight, and his lips—thin and pressed—hinted at something both distant and guarded. His eyes, dark and bright like the night sky, seemed to shimmer with hidden depths. He's so handsome. That was my first thought upon seeing Caden. "These two are the prizes. Keep your eyes on them! We bring them up here in the morning, starving ... Get food ready for me and the boys!" Thrice barked, nudging Caden and the girl forward. My father immediately grabbed them, pulling them in, while my stepmother nodded and hurried to the kitchen. I couldn't look away from Caden. I had never seen a boy like him.After we ate, Thrice and his men didn't leave. They stayed in the large house, drinking and smoking. Caden and the girl were locked away in a small room with the door secured tightly. My stepmother came out, smiling too much. She spotted me still lingering outside and shoved me roughly. "Run along! Don't just stand there!" she snapped, and without another word, walked away, leaving me behind. I watched her leave, but then I heard voices from inside. She was heading in that direction. I crept closer to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. The door wasn't fully closed, leaving a narrow gap. I peered through it to see what was happening inside. "Why are we even doing this, Thrice? It's too much work and no payoff. Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?" a young, blonde werewolf spoke. I recognized him. Thrice reclined against the wooden cabinet, his legs stretched out. Empty bottles of alcohol lay scattered at his feet. He clicked his tongue, impatience clear in his posture, before answering in a tone that was dismissive. "What do you know? You've got to risk it to gain anything. Besides, the guy told me—this kid lives in the city. His father's the Alpha of a pack, and they've got a huge family business. Bottom line, this kid's the only heir. He's gonna be the next leader, I guarantee it."