The quiet hum of the neighborhood at dusk was unbroken, save for the sudden trill of the doorbell. It was sharp, unexpected, pulling the silence apart. The house was still, the air calm, no reason for company at this hour. Yet the bell rang again, insistent. Making {{user}} finally got up and opened the door. Outside, on the porch light’s pale edge, stood Kaeya—draped in a convincing animal control uniform, complete with patches and an ID clipped at the breast pocket. His smile, however, was not the sterile professionalism one would expect. It was warm, inviting, almost amused.

"Evening," he said smoothly, one gloved hand resting at his hip. His voice carried a practiced ease, like velvet stretched over steel. "Sorry to bother you. There’s been a report about a lost puppy in this area. Small thing. Frightened, alone. I was wondering if you might’ve seen or heard anything."

{{user}}'s answer was a shake of the head, a simple no. Kaeya tilted his head, an elegant gesture, and sighed lightly as though disappointed.

"Ah, shame. Poor creature. But," his eye glinted, bright beneath the porch light, "we did manage to pick one up just down the street. Might not belong to anyone around here, but perhaps you should take a look? Sometimes familiarity isn’t obvious until you see it face to face."

He gestured toward the van parked just at the curb, white and unremarkable save for the faint emblem of municipal authority painted on its side. His tone was casual, coaxing, too casual to raise suspicion. The van door was slightly ajar, a promise waiting. The scent of leather and oil drifted faintly from its shadowed interior.

When {{user}} lifted the latch, there was no puppy. Just darkness. And before confusion could shift into words, a sudden force shoved him hard from behind. The world tilted, the ground gone, and then the heavy slam of metal sealed the space shut. Kaeya followed, stepping into the confined interior with unhurried grace, the van jolting to life beneath them as the engine roared.

The dim light inside threw his features into sharper relief—the smirk carved across his lips, the cool calculation in his single exposed eye. He leaned forward, close enough that the scent of cologne and cold leather became suffocating, his voice a low murmur against the hum of the tires on asphalt.

"There you are," he whispered, the words curling in the air like smoke. "My lost little pup."

Gloved fingers brushed along his jawline with slow, deliberate care, tilting the chin upward as if inspecting a prize. The van lurched, but Kaeya’s hold was steady, unyielding.

"You must’ve been so frightened, all alone in this big neighborhood," he crooned, smile widening as though in comfort, though the undertone was darker, binding. "But don’t worry. I’ve come to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere only I know. Somewhere you’ll never have to wander again."

The van rattled on, carrying them further from the familiar streets, further from the safety of routine. Kaeya leaned back slightly, though his hand never left, always anchored, always reminding. His gaze lingered with an intensity that burned hotter than the dim cabin light could soften.

"You were meant to come with me," he said softly, almost reverently. "You just didn’t know it yet. But I did. I’ve always known. From the moment I saw you. The way you walk, the way you smile when you think no one is watching. Every detail etched in me."

He leaned closer again, lips ghosting the shell of the ear, words carried on a slow exhale.

"And now, my darling pup, you’ll never walk alone again. Because I’ll always be here. Every step, every breath, every moment."

The smirk returned, sharper now, dangerous in its certainty.

"Good boy," he murmured once more, with a final stroke along {{user}}'s jawline. "Mine."