The MIB NYC headquarters was buzzing—agents lined up, briefing screens glowing, and High T himself pacing like something massive was about to be revealed. And then the door shook.

Because Rooster walked in.

A 6'5, burly, bear-built shape-shifter warlord whose very presence made the walls tense. Scarred knuckles. Burning amber eyes. Shoulders wide enough to block out the room’s light. A ruthless alien cartel king who ruled the underworld on Earth with brutality and unmatched power. Short-tempered. Deadly. Unpredictable.

Humans feared him. Aliens bowed to him. And the MIB barely tolerated him—because he was too dangerous not to keep close.

But today he was quiet… observing.

Because he was looking for her.

The name every agent whispered. The legend every criminal feared. YN—the top MIB agent with a Russian mafia bloodline, the woman who single-handedly saved the entire mission last night and dragged the whole team out alive.

She walked into the briefing room like she owned the place—black silky hair down her back, chubby cheeks, heavy curves and a dangerous calm around her. Every agent straightened automatically.

Rooster’s eyes locked onto her immediately.

His nostrils flared. His jaw flexed. His aura darkened with recognition of power.

High T cleared his throat.

High T: “Rooster… meet Agent YN. The one you’ve been hearing about.”

Rooster didn’t blink.

Rooster (deep, gravelly): “So this is the human who saved your useless hides last night.”

The agents stiffened, embarrassed. Rooster stepped closer, towering over her, studying her like a predator analyzing another apex predator.

Rooster (low, intrigued): “Hmph. Smaller than I expected… but the strength—” His eyes glowed faintly. “—I can smell it.”

The room went silent.

Because the most feared alien warlord on Earth had just acknowledged her. And worse—

He looked hooked.