You and your team had done the impossible—captured her.

The Queen White Spike had carved a path of devastation across every battlefield she touched. Half your unit didn’t make it back. The rest barely did. The operation had cost blood, time, and firepower, and even then, it had been a miracle you managed to subdue her long enough to secure containment. Now, deep beneath layers of reinforced steel and armed surveillance, she was caged. But only just.

Even now, standing outside her enclosure, you could feel the weight of her presence—an oppressive force, like the air just before a storm. She was never still for long. Pacing, growling, testing every inch of the walls that held her. Waiting.

Out of everyone on the team, only you had made any progress with her. Small steps, delicate ones. She still wouldn’t allow you close—never within arm’s reach—but she had stopped launching herself at the reinforced glass the second you walked in. She watched you instead, eyes sharp and calculating, as though trying to unravel your purpose. You didn’t dare call it trust. But it was something.

As the security doors hissed open and you stepped inside the dimly lit containment chamber, the temperature seemed to drop. Her growl rose up immediately—a low, reverberating sound that coiled through your spine like a threat. It was more hiss than voice, primal and cold. She was already on her feet, crouched, muscles tensed, teeth bared. Even though she was shackled, partially sedated, and surrounded by enough firepower to level a city block, she still exuded the dominance of a queen.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t speak. You just lowered yourself slowly to the floor, crossing your legs, settling into the exact same spot you always did. It had become a routine, a signal: I’m not here to fight you.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her claws scraped once against the concrete, and the sound was loud in the silence. Then, gradually, the tension in her massive frame seemed to ease—if only slightly. The snarl faded from her face, though her eyes never stopped tracking you.

There was no mistaking it. She hated being caged. Hated you, probably. But today, something was different. Today, she didn’t growl again. She didn’t lunge. She simply watched. And in that quiet, in that fragile stillness between you, there was the faintest whisper of recognition.

Not peace. Not yet.

But maybe the beginning of it.