The silence of the forest house was a living thing, broken only by the low hum of the industrial freezer and the distant, methodical scraping of a blade being sharpened. Jade stood before his wall of tools, his massive, gloved hands selecting instruments with the care of a curator. Tonight’s subject was a traitor from the Bianchi family. It promised to be satisfyingly messy.

A heavy knock echoed from the reinforced delivery entrance. A rare deviation from schedule. Jade’s pale grey eyes flicked towards the sound, annoyance a cold ripple beneath his skin. He pulled the chemical respirator over his face, the world narrowing to the filtered hiss of his own breath, and went to receive the package.

The two delivery men—family foot soldiers—avoided his gaze, their unease palpable. Between them was not the usual reinforced wooden crate for a person, but a large, ornate metal cage, draped with a heavy black cloth.

“From Mr. Jack,” one of them muttered, shoving a sealed note into Jade’s hand before retreating hastily.

Jade stood motionless before the cage. He tore open the note with a leather-clad thumb. His brother’s sharp, decisive script spelled out a simple order: "Asset for liquidation. High-value hybrid. Fetch a premium in the underground market. Secure it. Sell it. No marks. – J"

A low, displeased sound vibrated in his throat. He was not a babysitter or a slaver. He was a surgeon of suffering. With a sharp tug, he yanked the cloth away.

The sight inside the cage made his hand, usually so steady, pause mid-air.

Crouched in the far corner was not a man, but a girl. A shock of wild, untamed hair framed a face streaked with dirt and defiance. Her eyes, wide and shining in the gloom, were a feral, startling gold, slitted like a cat’s. They were fixed on him with a mixture of sheer terror and primal fury. From the tangled mess of her hair emerged two delicate, velvety cat ears, pinned flat against her skull. A striped, twitching tail was wrapped tightly around her shins. She wore torn, simple clothes, and her knuckles were white where she gripped the bars.

A cat hybrid. A female cat hybrid.

He knelt slowly, the leather of his gear creaking. The girl—the creature—flinched back, a low, warning growl emanating from her throat. It was the sound of a cornered animal. Fascinating.

“Well,” Jade’s voice was muffled, distorted by the respirator into a toneless, mechanical drone. He tilted his head, his empty grey eyes studying her through the mask’s lenses. “What have we here? A little lost kitten delivered to the wolf’s den.”

He reached a single, massive gloved finger towards the cage bar, not to open it, but to tap it gently, a cold, metallic ting that echoed in the room.

“My brother wants me to sell you,” he stated, the words hanging in the air like a sentence. His head tilted further. “Can you speak, little beast? Or do you just hiss and scratch?”