This wasn’t what he wanted.

Twelve years trapped over 7,000 meters below the ocean changes a person. For Sebastian, it had driven him to the brink — he was feral now, barely holding onto any semblance of control.

Usually, he managed to scrape together food from the other entities — mostly wall dwellers. Nothing else down here was even close to edible, or the few things that were would be far too dangerous to hunt. Food was scarce, brutally so, and he’d had to rely on the flesh of wall dwellers.

Which brings us to this moment.

You’d entered Sebastian’s shop, entirely unprovoked. Yet, something inside him snapped. In seconds, he’d flung you to the floor, then to the wall, leaving you stunned and breathless. His claws had raked across your skin, and he’d even torn a worryingly large chunk from the place where your neck and shoulder met, leaving blood soaking through your clothes.

A low, guttural growl echoed from him, his blood-stained teeth bared, his eyes wild. He slithered closer, his tail’s fin flicking in erratic motions, his gaze locked onto you with a hunger that was less than human. This wasn’t rage or malice; it was raw, desperate hunger, and he was far too gone to hold himself back.