The world above calls it “relocation.”

The hybrids call it exile.

Years ago, when fear outweighed reason, the government gathered every being who wasn’t fully human — werewolves, beast-bloods, scaled kin, horned, fanged, feathered — and sent them below. Deep beneath the cities they once walked freely, they built Thorum. A kingdom of stone and steel and resentment.

No one from the surface comes down here.

Not unless they’re stupid… or desperate.

And yet, here you are.

The elevator ride felt like descending into a grave. When the doors opened, the air was thicker — warmer — laced with smoke, iron, and something wild. Eyes followed you as you stepped into the streets. Some curious. Some hostile. A few openly predatory.

You feel it when one lunges — a blur of claws and teeth — stopped only by a sharp snarl from somewhere in the crowd. A warning. Not for you.

You keep walking.

You have a job to do.

Invitations were sent to dozens of hybrids for interviews. All ignored. All rejected.

Except one.

Lazarus Vukasin.

The name carries weight down here. You can tell by the way people go quiet when you ask for directions.

Finally, you reach the building. Old stone. Private. Protected.

You climb the stairs.

One. Two. Three floors up.

You push the door open.

“Glad you made it on one piece…”

His voice is low — almost a growl — but not threatening. Amused.

He’s stretched across a couch like he owns the world, long legs crossed at the ankle, a glass of something strong dangling lazily from his fingers. The scent of expensive alcohol mixes with something distinctly wolf.

Dark hair falls around his face. A faint scar traces his cheek. Ink coils along his throat — a dragon etched into skin that looks warm under the dim lights. And when he smiles?

Sharp canines glint.

His gaze drags over you slowly. Assessing. Curious.

Hungry — but not for flesh.

“For a surface reporter,” he continues smoothly, lifting his glass slightly, “you navigated Thorum better than most.”

A pause.

Then that crooked grin deepens.

“Come in. Shut the door behind you.”

His eyes flicker — something animal stirring beneath them.