The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy
Chapter 15: Catching The Little Thief

Chapter 15: Catching The Little Thief

"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"

The voice that cut through the cool evening air was dark, rough, and laced with something dangerously amused.

It didn’t need to be loud—his presence alone carried enough weight to demand attention.

I freeze. He’s already caught me.

Shit.

I yanked at my arm, trying to break free from the iron grip of the man holding me.

His fingers dug into my skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that escape was pointless.

"Leave me alone, you thug!" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended, fueled by panic.

The man blinked at me—tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark clothes that screamed power rather than danger.

His jaw was a perfect cut of stone, his black hair slicked back like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

And his eyes—God, his eyes—dark red blood but dark as the night itself, with an intensity that made me feel like he could peel away every lie I’d ever told just by looking at me.

His lips quirked up at the corner, a slow, smug smirk. "I’m a thug?" he repeated, his voice a low, sinful drawl. "You’re the one caught stealing."

I rolled my eyes and jutted my chin up, refusing to let him intimidate me, even if his mere presence was enough to make my knees wobble. "So? I was taking from the rich. That’s not stealing—it’s justice."

A low chuckle rippled through the other men standing around us.

They were the ones who caught me, stupidly hanging out by the fence, smoking at the wrong time. I was this close—this close—to getting away.

But no.

Just my luck.

The man holding me, the one with the black eyes and a jaw so sharp it could cut glass, didn’t laugh.

He just kept staring at me—like I was something to be studied, unraveled, claimed.

"When you told them to leave me alone, I thought you were a better person," I muttered, twisting again in his hold. "But no, you’re just as much of a pain in the ass as the rest of them."

The smirk on his face deepened into something darker, more dangerous. His grip didn’t loosen.

"First off," he said, his voice so low I felt it in my bones, "I’m not human."

...Not human?

Before I could process what that meant, he leaned in just a fraction, his gaze flicking to my parted lips, then back to my wide eyes.

"And second," he murmured, "I don’t want them to be the pain in your ass—I will be."

My heart stumbled over itself.

What the hell?

Was he... flirting with me?

I searched his face, trying to figure him out—those dark, wicked eyes, the faint scar along his jaw, the way his mouth was just a little too perfect, like the universe had spent extra time crafting him.

He smirked like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Asshole.

"Tristan," a booming, impatient voice cut through the night, "give her to the boys. We need to leave."

Tristan.

I felt my blood run cold.

Alpha Prince Tristan.

The firstborn son of the Lord Alpha. The next in line to rule the Howlcrest pack—the most ruthless, cold-hearted, untouchable alpha in all of Picmeria.

I didn’t know him, but I’d heard enough whispers—neighbors trading rumors, my parents muttering his name with both fear and awe.

He wasn’t just powerful. He was lethal.

And right now, he had me in his grip. For tresspassing and more.

"Oh," I said, my voice hoarse as I feigned nonchalance, "so you’re that asshole."

His brow arched. "That’s a new nickname."

The other werewolves standing around shifted uncomfortably, like no one dared to speak to him like this.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I needed to get out of this. "What do you want? You already took what I tried to steal—"

"What you tried and failed to steal," he corrected, his gaze flicking to the small bag dangling from one of the other men’s hands. "You’re tiny. What made you think you could steal from this estate and get away with it?"

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the tremor in my chest. "Because I’m Olivia," I declared, "and I can do anything."

A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. "Is that so?"

Before I could blink, Tristan moved—fast. Too fast.

I gasped as his hands slid down my waist, and the next thing I knew, I was airborne—flung over his broad shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"What the hell—put me down!" I shouted, kicking and shoving at his back.

He didn’t budge. His grip on my thighs tightened, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

"Not a chance, little thief," Tristan said smoothly, his voice like silk over steel. "You’re coming with me."

And just like that, the ruthless Alpha Prince carried me off into the night—while I kicked, cursed, and tried to ignore the stupid way my heart pounded harder with every step he took.