Gold-plated toys and sprawling marble hallways defined the early years of Gunnar Bertram. Born to the elite Bertram family, owners of a sprawling network of international shipping and real estate companies, he was a boy of immense privilege. Yet, his childhood lacked the warmth most children took for granted. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bertram, viewed him more as a legacy to be polished than a child to be loved.
Silence became his primary companion. He refused to mingle with his peers, finding their loud laughter and unpredictable games overwhelming. Only one person succeeded in drawing him out of his shell.
Tyra, his seven-year-old cousin, was his constant companion. Two years older than him, she possessed a fierce, protective streak that matched her vibrant spirit. She spent nearly every weekend at the Bertram mansion, dragging Gunnar out to the gardens to play. He adored her, relying on her to navigate the quiet, intimidating world his parents built around them.
Animals were Gunnar's secret sanctuary. Picture books of wild beasts stacked high in his bedroom, their pages worn thin from constant reading. Those predators represented a noble, loyal nature to him. Deep down, he longed to see one in person, to feel the wild energy he only read about in books.
Summer heat blanketed the city on the day his wish finally came true. Both families decided a trip to the municipal zoo would be a suitable outing for the children. Laughter echoed through the park as they walked past the tropical bird exhibits, but Gunnar’s eyes remained fixed on the signs pointing toward the carnivore enclosures. His father talked loudly on his brick-sized cell phone, negotiating a shipping deal, standing close to him is Tyra's father, while his mother adjusted her expensive sunglasses, completely attached to her sister, Tyra's mother during the family excursion.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as they approached the wolf habitat. Unlike the other lively exhibits, this area felt strangely quiet, almost abandoned. Standing near the heavy iron bars of the main enclosure, Gunnar spotted a massive shadow. It was a black wolf, far larger than any he had seen in his books.
Coarse, midnight-black fur covered its powerful frame. A jagged, pale scar cut directly through its left eye, giving the beast a rugged, ancient look. Despite the scar, the wolf looked remarkably calm, almost cute as it watched the young boy approach. Its golden eyes held a strange, hypnotic depth that pulled Gunnar closer.
"Look at him, Tyra," Gunnar whispered, his five-year-old voice filled with awe. "He's beautiful."
Step by step, he drifted away from his parents' side, drawn to the iron bars. Tyra noticed his movement and immediately grabbed his arm. "Gunnar, don't," she warned, her voice tight with sudden apprehension. "Stay back."
Ignoring his cousin's plea, Gunnar shook off her grip. He reached his small, soft hand through the rusted iron bars, aiming for the wolf's scarred forehead. Deep down, he wanted to pat the creature, to feel the thick fur beneath his fingers.
Silence hung in the air as the wolf remained still, allowing him to get closer and closer. Sudden, violent change shattered the quiet moment.
Amber eyes flared with a monstrous, predatory rage. Its upper lip peeled back, exposing yellow, razor-sharp fangs dripping with saliva. Before Gunnar could even blink, the beast lunged forward with terrifying speed.
Teeth clamped down hard on his left shoulder. Pain, sharp and agonizing, ripped through his entire body. He screamed, a shrill, desperate sound that echoed off the concrete walls of the enclosure. Blood, hot and crimson, immediately soaked through his blue cotton shirt as the wolf shook its head, tearing at his flesh.
Panic erupted throughout the zoo. Onlookers shrieked, scattering in all directions as the sound of the attack broke the peace. Tyra, driven by adrenaline, threw herself forward. She wrapped her arms around Gunnar's waist, digging her heels into the dirt. With a desperate, primal yell, she pulled him backward with all her might.
Fangs tore away from his shoulder, leaving deep, jagged gashes behind. Gunnar collapsed onto the gravel, clutching his bleeding arm as his vision began to blur. Flashing lights and security guards materialized near the cage, armed with tranquilizer darts and iron rods. His parents rushed forward, Mrs. Bertram sobbing hysterically while her husband barked orders at the gathering crowd.
Sirens wailed in the distance as Tyra held his hand, her own fingers covered in his blood. "You're going to be okay, Gun," she whispered, tears streaming down her dusty cheeks. She stayed by his side through the frantic ambulance ride and the grueling hours in the emergency room.
Hospitals always smelled of sterile bleach and plastic sheets. Gunnar lay in the pediatric ward for two weeks, his shoulder wrapped in heavy white bandages that burned with every twitch. Tyra refused to leave his bedside, sleeping in a cramped blue plastic chair and helping him eat when his hands shook too much. His parents visited occasionally, but their conversations always revolved around the public relations nightmare the attack had caused for the Bertram brand.
---
Medical professionals managed to stitch the physical wound, but the psychological damage was permanent. A brutal, twisted crescent of pale flesh remained on his left shoulder forever. It was a daily reminder of his foolishness. From that fateful day, Gunnar's love for animals withered, replaced by a deep-seated hatred and fear.
Animals became a threat to be avoided at all costs. If a stray dog approached him on the street, he would kick it away or command his guards to remove it. Any creature that dared to show stubbornness or aggression near him was quickly and permanently dealt with. He became cold, distant, and utterly unyielding.
During his university years, classmates learned to avoid him. His piercing glare and refusal to engage in small talk earned him a reputation as an ice king. He didn't care about making friends or attending parties. His only goal was to prove his worth to his father and take control of the family business.
Fifteen years passed in a blur of boardrooms and cold calculations. At twenty years old, Gunnar was handed the reins of Blackwood, one of his father's most dominant corporations. He worked tirelessly, channeling his anger and isolation into corporate dominance. Tyra had also achieved success, running her own prosperous design firm. While she chose to live with her parents, she frequently visited the Bertram estate to check on her cousin.
Solitude, however, was Gunnar's true companion. He lived alone in a sprawling, ultra-modern mansion perched on a cliffside overlooking a secluded beach. Crashing waves provided the only noise he could tolerate. On paper, his life appeared absolutely perfect. He possessed unlimited wealth, power, and a gorgeous girlfriend named Emma.
Emma was a high-society socialite who loved luxury as much as she loved attention. Unfortunately, she also loved her pet cat, Dia. Dia was a pristine white Persian cat with a spoiled attitude and a bizarre fixation on Gunnar. Gunnar despised the feline with every fiber of his being.
Every visit from Emma turned into a silent battle of wills between man and beast. As Gunnar sat at his desk, reviewing Blackwood's financial projections, Dia would slink into the room. Feline instincts seemed to guide her toward him, rubbing her white fur against his tailored trousers. Gunnar's jaw would clench, a vein pulsing at his temple as he pushed the animal away with his foot.
"Can you please keep that useless creature locked up?" Gunnar muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet.
Emma sighed, looking up from her phone as she lounged on his plush sofa. "Oh, Gunnar, she's just a cat. Why do you have to be so hostile toward her? She just wants some affection."
"She does it on purpose," Gunnar snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Get her out of my sight before I have my security dump her in the ocean."
Seeing the genuine coldness in his eyes, Emma quickly scooped up the cat, murmuring sweet nothing into its fluffy ears. Gunnar turned back to his laptop, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. He didn't care about Emma's hurt feelings. He cared only about the work, the numbers, and the absolute control he maintained over his environment.
Phantom itching always triggered his scarred shoulder. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, the bite mark would tingle, a burning sensation reminding him of the teeth that had once torn his flesh. He poured himself a glass of neat whiskey, gulping down the burning liquid as the clock chimed midnight. Emma eventually went to bed, leaving him alone in the dim glow of his study.
Sleep finally claimed him at his desk, the heavy silence of the mansion wrapping around him.
---
Gunnar opened his eyes in a dark thick room. "Anybody here?" He said. There was just silence. He walked into a door but it's locked, he was trying to open it by turning the knob but the door didn't respond. Then a howl was heard from the other side of the door. Gunnar gasped walking backwards then a hand tapped his shoulder from behind. Gunnar's eyes widen.