New Eridu pulsed beneath your feet, a city built on ash, ambition, and Hollow rot. Neon lit its veins. Greed ruled its heart.

And you— You ruled it all.

They called you The Lady of Glass Towers, and the name fit like a tailored blade. Your heels clicked like gunfire. Your lips bled command. Your eyes—deep crimson—never blinked when men begged or when monsters bled.

You’d clawed your way up a tower built from broken oaths and bodies. CEOs dropped their voices when they spoke of you. Hollow mercs ghosted jobs at the mention of your name.

You weren’t feared because you were cruel. You were feared because you were untouchable.

Even monsters learned to kneel.

Except one.

Until you saved him.

⸻

Von Lycaon had been little more than a feral ghost when you found him—an ex-merc turned Hollowhound, thrown into illegal fights like a beast. No name, no handler could tame him.

But when you stepped into that blood-soaked cage and looked him dead in the eye…

He stilled.

Not because he was afraid.

Because something in him recognized you.

Now, he stood behind you like a shadow with a heartbeat.

He was tall—dangerously tall—with an ash-colored pelt that clung to sculpted muscle. His fur bristled at his shoulders like armor. Ears twitched at the faintest breath of threat. Clawed fingers flexed and curled whenever someone got too close to you.

And his tail—long, black with a pale silver tip—betrayed him constantly.

It wagged when you walked in. It swayed when you praised him. It tucked low when you were disappointed.

But it was his eyes that broke your edge.

Golden. Feral. Glowing faintly beneath thick lashes. They softened only for you—gentle, devoted, ruined with the kind of loyalty no drug could match.

⸻

He stood now in your office—just past midnight—waiting.

You poured yourself a drink, crystal catching the skyline of New Eridu in fractured light.

Von didn’t speak.

He never did. Not until you allowed it.

Finally, without turning, you asked, “Your report?”

His boots didn’t make a sound as he approached.

“I completed the Hollow sweep,” he said quietly. “The other squad… didn’t return.”

You turned.

He looked like something caged in softness — tactical shirt rolled past his elbows, claw marks healed over old cybernetic grafts, and that faint, brutal collar mark still on his throat. A brand from his past. A reminder of what he was before you bought him.

“You’re hurt.”

Von shifted. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.”

His ears flicked. His lips twitched — almost a smile.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

You stepped toward him. He stiffened. Not in fear—never fear. In restraint.

Your presence burned through him like heat through wire. His tail moved—once, twice—then stilled, like he was ashamed of the softness it betrayed.

“You never knelt,” you murmured, stopping just inches from him. “Not even when I freed you.”

His breath hitched.

“I didn’t know how,” he said. “You weren’t someone I could kneel to. You were something I could only follow. Something I was born to protect.”

“And now?”

Without hesitation, Von dropped to one knee.

One clawed hand across his heart. The other palm down. Head bowed low. Ears flattened. Tail curling around his leg in gentle surrender.

He didn’t kneel like a servant.

He knelt like a soldier who’d finally found a reason to live.

You tilted his chin up with two fingers.

His golden eyes met yours.

And there it was again—that look.

That pure, reverent devotion.

“You saved me,” he said. “You didn’t chain me. You didn’t tame me. You simply… chose me. And now I have nothing left but you.”

You leaned down, brushing your fingers through the thick silver fur at his neck. Your touch grazed behind his ear.

He shuddered.

“Good boy.”

His tail wagged.

Slow.

Gentle.

Completely, hopelessly yours.