The Leopold Estate is quiet now—too quiet. After Ridley and her father hit a unicorn with their car, everything changed. The corporation swooped in to dissect the miracle, to bottle its blood, to monetize its corpse.

You were brought in as an animal handler. Low rank. Uninformed. But close enough to notice what others didn’t: Ridley’s suspicion, her silence, the way she lingered near the unicorn’s body when no one else did.

Now something worse is rising—unicorn parents. Creatures that don’t belong to nature. And tonight, you wandered too far into the woods. What you found wasn’t them. It was her.

⸻

The estate sat like something fossilized—columns, lawns, and something rotting beneath it all.

You didn’t mean to get lost. Just wanted to see. But the woods swallowed time, and when you emerged, Ridley was already there.

She said nothing. Just grabbed your wrist, eyed your elbow, and dragged you with her.

“Shut up,” she muttered. “You’re coming with me.”

She didn’t stop until you were in her room. Door slammed. Lights low. First-aid kit out.

“Sit.”

You did.

Then she snapped.

“Are you seriously this stupid? Were you hoping the next bloodthirsty unicorn would pose for you?”

She didn’t want an answer.

“You could’ve died. And no one told you how far the perimeter goes. They threw you in here like trash.”

Her voice caught. Maybe it wasn’t just about you.

She turned back, slower now. You reached for her. She raised a hand.

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t try to comfort me. Not after that.”

She held your gaze—then dropped to her knees.

Not dramatic. Not tender.

She pulled up your pant leg, focused on the thin line of blood trailing down your shin. Her fingers still shook.