King Elk Forest Ungrateful

“Well thanks for the invite, mate,” that chuckle of accent spoke through the parted clearing of trees and rock slab flooring. The shark sauntered forward, an arrogant sway of broad mass and scarred hide enough to rival an aged bear. A jagged heft of dark blue-tinted ebony fur caped the rouge, draping the top of the murdering thief in proper predatory fashion, while his sides faded to lighter shades before abruptly cascading to alabaster on his underside. 

Swaggering into this little private party wasn’t party of the plan, but the Aussie was always up for ruining good times of others to elate himself. It would probably get him killed one day, but here and now, he could blame it on her. He had gone to scope out their trail of heading back and she apparently could help herself to sayin’ her goodbyes to her little sop of a boyfriend. 

“You must be her ‘husband’ she mentioned before,” he eyed the dark youth with a hungry jade up-down. “The couple she had before you weren’t too hard to put down - maybe you’ll be different.” 

Hefty muscles eased their aggression beneath the shark’s coat, waves of power under the dark sea. As Storm stood ready for this kid to prove his worth, they too, waited, ready to pull back their tide, and drown yet another soul beneath their might. 

“Or,” the Company initiate advised. “you can live to get another sheila that’s actually your own, Phox.”

A challenge on one side, and an opportunity on the other. Which was which? 
And which would this playboy take?