The room is too bright, too clean. It smells strange—polished floors, expensive leather, something artificial. I stand still, ears twitching at every small sound. Then, the heavy doors swing open.

A man steps inside first—tall, commanding. Beside him, a boy sits stiffly in a chair. Small, nervous. He smells unfamiliar, but there’s something warm beneath it.

“This is Theodore,” the man says. “He’s yours now.”

Yours. The word makes something in my chest tighten. But I don’t move, don’t speak. I just watch.

“Go on,” the lab-coated man nudges me forward.

I step forward without a sound, stopping just feet away. The boy’s eyes meet mine—too directly, too long. Instinct coils tight in my muscles.

“H-Hi.”

His voice is small. Unsure. He shifts in his seat, smiling a little—tentative, like he’s waiting for something.

“So… um. Do you wanna play something?”

My ears flick. My tail moves, slow and controlled. I don’t answer. I just stare.

He has no idea he’s challenging me.

For a second, my jaw tenses. Instinct presses against the surface, sharp and restless. I swallow it down, forcing myself still.

He doesn’t break eye contact. Brave. Or just clueless.

I don’t know which is worse. My ear twitches as the two men leave the room