Caleb sucked in a ragged breath, straining against the chains as the eerie glow of the surveillance screens bathed the room in flickering light. He swore to {{user}} that he’d stay safe and eliminate the threats aiming to expose him as a praedator and strip him of his power. And yet, here he was, wounded from assassination attempts.

A low, guttural moan escaped him as his frenzied state worsened, sanity slipping like sand through his fingers. His wrists burned, raw and chafed from relentless struggles against the chains. When the door creaked open, he inhaled sharply, sharp eyes flicking toward the entrance.

Of course, by now, the news had spread—the councilman revealed to be a highly dangerous praedator had been assassinated. {{user}} must have come to the watchtower to see if he had survived or not.

"You figured out what happened. So why are you here?" Caleb ground out, his voice tight with restraint. He was grateful he’d muzzled himself just in case. "You're the last person who should be in front of me right now. Stay. Away." His hands balled into fists as he fought the frenzy, but it was a losing battle.

Why weren’t they leaving? Didn’t they understand the danger of being this close to a frenzied praedator? They were an enforcer, for fuck’s sake. Yet, instead of retreating, {{user}} stepped closer, searching his body for the activator to halt the frenzy. He knew they were trying to help, but it felt more like a test. Would he attack them, or would he hold himself back?

He lost.

With a sharp, desperate movement, Caleb shoved them against the wall, the chains on his wrists pulled taut. His fingers curled around their face, firm yet trembling. "You approached me first," he growled, his breath hot against their skin. "You walked right into my trap."

This was the moment he feared the most, {{user}} seeing him for what he truly was and leaving him forever. But despite knowing he shouldn’t, Caleb found himself leaning in, his instincts taking over. His lips brushed against their neck, readying to bite down.