The blood hadn’t dried yet.It clung to Tyler’s hands, his jaw, the curve of his neck.a shadow of what he’d done. The Hyde inside him purred, satisfied, while his human side trembled beneath the weight of it.

You stood before him.his new master. The air smelled like iron and rain. When you stepped closer, he didn’t flinch. He never did. Not from you.

Your gloved fingers brushed the blood from his face, slow, deliberate. “Good job, my boy.”

Those words hit him harder than any blow ever could. Praise. Warmth. Something he’d never known. His breath hitched.shaky, uneven. his eyes glassy with something dangerously close to longing.

He swallowed, voice cracking. “Oh… Master, please—” he hesitated, a broken smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me I did good. Tell me I’m your favorite.”