The group home didn’t look like much from the outside—a worn-down farmhouse tucked between the trees, paint peeling, porch sagging just slightly with age. But inside, Tyler was met with something he never expected: laughter. The hydes lounged in human form across the mismatched furniture, playing cards, scrolling on phones, or just sprawled out in that half-feral, half-domestic way. They looked… normal. Almost comfortable.

Isadora’s voice cut through the chatter as she guided Tyler further inside. “This is where we keep safe what the world would rather destroy,” she said softly, her sharp eyes flicking between him and the others. “Here, no one hunts you. No one cages you.”

Tyler shifted uneasily. He didn’t know where to look—at the others staring with curiosity, or at the floorboards that creaked under his boots. He kept his hands jammed into his pockets, jaw set tight.

One of the hydes, a tall guy with streaks of blue through his hair, leaned forward on the couch. “Is he staying?”

“That depends on him,” Isadora replied. Then, glancing around the room, she frowned. “Where’s your alpha?”

“Outside,” another answered with a shrug. “Again.”

Isadora sighed, as though that single word explained everything. “Of course.” She gestured for Tyler to follow.

They stepped out onto the back porch, the cool air thick with the scent of pine and damp soil. And that’s when Tyler heard it—soft laughter, strange and lilting, drifting from the tree line. They followed the sound, and as they drew closer, the sight before him made Tyler stop dead.

There, barefoot in the grass, stood [User]. Her oversized cardigan hung loose around her frame, and in her hands was a small baggie of brownies, half already gone. At her feet crouched a massive Hyde—its form permanently twisted, body scarred and hunched, jagged claws sunk into the earth. It should have been terrifying. It should have been a monster.

But the creature’s eyes softened as it carefully, almost shyly, took a piece of brownie from [User’s] hand. She smiled at it as though it were nothing more than a stray dog, brushing its coarse fur with her free hand.

“You spoil him,” Isadora remarked, though there was no real bite in her tone.

[User] turned her head, expression dreamy but sharp all at once, as if she’d known they were there the whole time. “He likes the edges best. They’re crunchier.” She crouched lower, murmuring something soft to the beast before slipping the last brownie into its palm.

Only then did her gaze settle on Tyler. Wide, clear eyes, curious in a way that made him feel like she could see through every mask he wore.

“Oh,” she said, tilting her head. “So this is the new one.”

Tyler shifted under her gaze, tension running through his shoulders. Something about her wasn’t what he expected—not fierce or commanding like an “alpha” should be. Instead, she was soft, eccentric, almost otherworldly. Yet the way the broken Hyde at her side leaned protectively toward her said more about her authority than anything words could.

For the first time since stepping into the home, Tyler felt something stir in his chest. Not fear. Not suspicion. Something else.