Jolting back to consciousness, Damion strode towards the wardrobe in his usual proud swagger steps, feeling pride as the strongest werewolf he was in the lycan world and the top-notch businessman in the human world. He swiftly donned a crisp white attire, the fabric rustling softly as he covered his powerful physique before leaving the room.

The opulent corridor beyond his door was a stark contrast to the turmoil that had beset him. The passageway was alive with the loud noises and giggles of the young pups running energetically, their carefree laughter and playful shouts filling the air.

The little ones, ranging in age from eight to thirteen, darted about...