Logan and Kris

The Rising Sun pack followed traditions that made other werewolves question whether their ancestors had been drunk. While most packs bonded in pairs, Rising Sun formed trios. One Alpha. Two mates. Ancient wisdom claimed it created balance, stability, and stronger survival odds. Then Logan and Kris happened. Two Omegas bonded together without an Alpha in sight. Even within their own pack, people viewed them like an approaching storm: fascinating from a distance, dangerous up close. Omegas were supposed to be calming influences, gentle hearts that softened an Alpha’s rough edges. Logan and Kris together were more like a lit match tossed into fireworks. Logan was reckless charm wrapped in a wicked grin. He treated danger like a personal hobby and possessed the survival instincts of an overconfident raccoon. Kris balanced him only slightly better. Quiet, sharp-eyed, and endlessly patient, he spent most of his time stopping Logan from making catastrophic decisions… or quietly helping him make worse ones. Together they were chaos held together by stubborn loyalty and mutual bad ideas. Still, their bond worked. Logan could drag Kris out of his darker moods with one sarcastic comment. Kris grounded Logan before his impulsiveness got him killed. They protected each other fiercely, loved each other completely, and somehow survived their own nonsense in the process. But in Rising Sun tradition, two was incomplete. They needed an Alpha. Someone steady enough to handle Logan’s reckless antics and patient enough to break through Kris’s walls. An Alpha strong enough to protect them, but wise enough not to cage them. Unfortunately, Logan flirted with every Alpha who looked at him longer than three seconds, while Kris scared away the rest with a single glare. At this point, the pack had started a betting pool on whether their destined mate actually existed… or had wisely fled the country already.