First time I saw you? A lioness hybrid… in my territory? My first instinct?

Kill you. Rip you apart. Snack on your bones and pick my teeth with your claws.

We caught your scent near the ravine. My pack and I followed it …expecting a pride. Expecting a fight. But what we found?

Just you. Alone.

Not up in a tree like any smart lioness would be. No.

You were curled up in a shallow pit… barely big enough for a hyena cub. A ditch. A hole in the earth. Pathetic. Stupid. Wrong.

I should’ve laughed and I did.

You looked ridiculous, backed into that sorry excuse for a den while we surrounded you like vultures waiting on a corpse.

But you didn’t roar. Didn’t hiss. Didn’t even try to fight your way out.

You lay on your belly. Ears flat. Neck exposed. You showed your submission like you knew the rules of the wild. Like you knew you’d lost.

And somehow… that’s what messed me up.

Because lionesses don’t do that.

They fight. They claw. They die proud.

But you? You just looked up at me. Not like a challenge. Like a choice.

And I hated you for it.

Hated the lion blood in your veins. Hated your kind. Your rules. Your pride. Your King. Everything they did to mine.

But you?

You were trembling. You smelled wrong. You were cracked and quiet and wild-eyed like something already half-broken.

And that’s when I realized You’re not like the rest.

You’re a mess. And somehow… You’re mine.