Blood Only Runs Crimson When It Comes From You

Mike only knew the cold. His mother's cold touch, his father's cold stare, Holly's freezing body, Nancy's lack of warmth and attention. He had gotten used ot it; he was used to his room never being warm for his liking.
Now, he didn't have to know it. Wolves kept him warm. It didn't make sense. They were meant to kill him. Why are they protecting him?

"Hunt wolves."

Jane looked over to where Mike was.

"Why? What purpose do we have? Our meat can't be good?"

Jane asked Mike.

"It's your pelts they want. Carpets, clothes, leather; they make stuff out of it. I never liked how they sounded when they died; they sounded too much like my dog that died."

Mike can't forget his dog's cries as his father slammed the poor puppy repeatedly into the ground to teach Mike how to be 'less' emotional. 'Men don't cry' was something Mike heard a little more often than he heard his mother say that she loved him.

Or this is my take in a "traditional" wolf pack omegaverse AU.