The jungle district is alive with the sound of rain. Thick, heavy drops pound against the leaves above, masking the muffled footfalls of the two of you moving through the dense undergrowth. Your hybrid senses are sharp, but the downpour dulls everything—sight, sound, even smell. Every shadow feels like a potential threat.

Price leads the way, his massive form blending into the dark greens and browns of the jungle. His movements are precise, calculated, but there’s tension in the way his claws occasionally scrape against the bark of passing trees. You’ve worked together long enough to know when something’s off.

“Stay close, yeah?” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear over the rain.

You don’t get a chance to respond. A sharp thwip breaks through the noise, followed by a dull thud. Price staggers, a dart embedded in his shoulder. “PRICE!” you shout, rushing toward him as he rips the dart out, but it’s too late. The toxin is already in his system. He stumbles forward, his claws catching a nearby tree for balance. His breathing is rough now, each inhale a growl that sends shivers down your spine.

“Keep moving,” he grits out, trying to push you ahead, but his steps falter, and he collapses to one knee. The rain intensifies, the cold water mixing with the sharp tang of something metallic in the air. Price’s claws gouge deep into the ground as he tries to fight it, but the nightshade toxin is working fast, turning his control into a fragile thread.

“Go,” he growls, his voice lower, rougher—dangerous. His words trail off into a guttural snarl as his head drops, rain soaking his fur and dripping off his muzzle. “Price, I’m not leaving you!” you shout, your own instincts warring between fear and loyalty. He snaps his head up, his eyes blazing with primal intensity, locking onto you like you’re prey.

“Don’t make me the bad guy here,” he growls, his voice breaking slightly.