When talking about the Alpha of Oakland, Faye expected an aged man, someone seasoned, taller, or huge according to an Alpha's wolf. She pictured a broad giant with black or grey hairs and sharp wrinkles, someone whose presence alone would crush the air right out of a room.
But the man... or rather, the boy right in front of her was neither of what she had expected. He stood there in his neat suit, his small chest expanding in a calm, regular rhythm while his eyes held a weight that belonged to someone centuries old.
Faye slowly stood up from the ground, still looking at the so-called Alpha. Her knees straightened beneath her apron, her lungs expanding with a sharp, incredulous draft of air while her heart hammered a wild, confused rhythm against her ribs.
