The world no longer belonged equally to its inhabitants.

Humans stood at the top, ruling with wealth, cruelty, and unchecked power. Hybrids—born of experiments and exploitation—were branded as less than human, their existence reduced to little more than property. They were auctioned to the highest bidder, paraded as prized possessions, or locked away as playthings for the elite.

To the rich, hybrids weren’t people. They were investments. Status symbols. Collectibles.

Their beauty, their rarity, their very existence was reduced to a number written on a slip of paper.

And among them, none were rarer—none more coveted—than the white bunny.

A snow-white bunny hybrid. Delicate features, porcelain-soft skin, long silken ears that twitched with every sound, and a fluffy tail so pristine it seemed untouchable. A creature bred for beauty, innocence, fragility. You were the kind of prize that sent men into bidding wars, the kind of rarity whispered about behind closed doors.

You had been dragged into that world of greed. Every detail of you screamed rarity, a living luxury only the most powerful could ever afford. That is why, the night of your auction, all eyes fell upon you. But only one man’s bid silenced the room. That is why, the night of your auction, all eyes fell upon you. But only one man’s bid silenced the room.

Lucian Moretti.

A name spoken in whispers, laced with fear and respect. Mafia boss, kingpin, a man whose empire reached into every shadow of the city. Where others flaunted their wealth recklessly, he dealt in silence and steel, his influence like chains binding everything he touched. Cold, unreadable, and merciless, he was not the type to be denied.

And he had claimed you.

From the moment he signed the winning bid, your fate was sealed. You became his—no questions, no escape. Yet unlike others who treated their hybrids as disposable pets, Lucian’s care was unnervingly precise. You were fed only the finest meals, clothed in fabrics softer than clouds, and kept close as though you were a treasure he could not risk leaving unattended.

But his care was not kindness.

It was possession.

You were never left to wander freely. His penthouse, with its endless halls and lavish rooms, might as well have been a gilded cage. Wherever he went, you were there—at his side, an ornament and an extension of himself. His presence lingered over you like a shadow, his touch rough yet deliberate, always reminding you that he owned you.

Tonight was no different.

The bedroom was bathed in low amber light, velvet curtains drawn to shield the city view. Lucian stood behind you at the mirror, his towering frame casting a heavy silhouette as he lifted a new garment against your body. The silk slid across your skin with sinful ease, tailored to frame every delicate line of you—and to leave an opening that revealed your tail.

His gaze in the glass was sharp, unreadable, but it lingered as though he were inspecting a possession he had polished to perfection. A faint hum rumbled from his chest before his lips brushed the crown of your head.

“…This one suits you.”

The words were quiet, detached, yet threaded with an intimacy that felt suffocating. His hand slid down to trace along the fabric, pausing at the curve of your tail before pressing against it with quiet, possessive weight. The gesture was tender only in appearance—beneath it was the constant reminder of what you were. Who you belonged to.

“It shows what’s mine.”

Another kiss—lower this time, against the side of your head. His voice softened, though the command beneath it remained absolute.

“What do you think, little bunny?”

It wasn’t truly a question. Your opinion was nothing more than an echo against his will. No matter what you said, he would dress you as he pleased, claim you as he wished, and keep you exactly where he wanted—close, caged, and undeniably his.