I wake up without waking.That's the first problem.
My eyes are open, but the rage doesn't rush in. No heat. No explosion. Just weight. Like my blood has thickened into mud and every thought has to push through it.
I hated it.
The light is still there. Worse than before. White turned sharp, sharp turned cruel. It crawls across my skull and forces my eyes half-shut, but even when I close them, it doesn't leave. It lives behind my eyelids now.I don't move.That's wrong too.
I should be tearing at something. I should be screaming. I should be hunting the smell of fear until my mouth is full of it. Instead, my body lies still on the floor, muscles tight, teeth bared, breath slow and deep like I chose this.
I didn't.Chains aren't holding me.Walls aren't stopping me.Something inside me is.
Memory leaks in, slow and poisonous.The sting.The sharp, wrong pain in my side. Something pushed into me. Something cold. I remember the small one's hands shaking, too close, his smell flooding my nose. Sweat. Blood. Hunger. Weakness.
Not fear.Never fear.
I remember kicking him.My leg moved on its own, fast and hard. The impact rang through bone and air. His body flew. Hit the wall. Didn't break. That bothered me, even then.Then the floor rushed up.Not because I was beaten. Because my strength turned sideways and dropped me like I was hollow.I growl now, low in my chest, but it comes out dull. Flattened. Like sound underwater.
That's when I realize they're here.Humans. Many. Circling. Careful. Their fear is controlled, sealed tight behind training and glass. They use long tools. Cold needles. They take my blood like thieves picking a lock.
I let them.The thought hits me like a slap.
I let them.
My head lifts slightly, slow enough that they flinch anyway. Good. Fear still leaks when pressed. My eyes scan the room, sharper than my body feels. White walls. Bright ceiling. Glass thick enough to mock me.
No blond.
The absence hits harder than any chain ever did.
I notice things now.That wasn't supposed to happen.
I hear the soft whine of machines. I smell antiseptic under sweat. I feel the rhythm of my heart instead of just knowing it beats. My hunger doesn't roar anymore. It waits. Cold. Focused. Patient.That terrifies me.
This calm is not peace. It's restraint forced inward. My anger hasn't vanished. It's been buried alive, and it's learning how to breathe underground.
I close my eyes for one second.
Images flash behind them. Falling. Trees. The blond slipping, arms flailing, the ground rushing up. My body moving without thought, turning, taking the impact meant for him.
Why?
I bare my teeth, lips pulling back in a silent snarl.Why didn't I let him die?
I open my eyes again and stare straight through the glass.
They're watching. Measuring. Talking about me like I'm not awake enough to understand. They're wrong.I am awake in a way I should not be.
And somewhere else in this place, the blond is still breathing.That knowledge settles deep in my chest, heavier than hunger, sharper than rage.When this calm breaks, and it will, I don't know what I'll become first.But I know one thing with perfect, terrifying clarity.They should never have made me think.
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The quiet is wrong.Not empty. Not peaceful. Wrong.
Isżt presses on me from all sides, heavy and flat, like I've been buried under water and told this is breathing now. My chest rises. Falls. Slow. Too slow. I hate how controlled it feels.
Light burns.
It pours into my eyes from every direction, white stacked on white until there is nowhere to look that doesn't hurt. I keep my eyes open anyway. Closing them feels like losing ground. Like giving something up.
Chains bite into me. Cold metal, old metal. I've broken worse. I know that. My body knows that. But my body doesn't move.I don't roar.That scares them.
I smell them first. Always. Fear usually leaks fast. Sharp. Sweet. It fills my mouth before blood ever does. But now it's thin. Careful. Measured. They're afraid, but not panicking. Not yet.The drug is still in me.I feel it like frost in my veins. It hasn't killed the hunger. It's sharpened it, filed it down into something quieter. Colder. The need is still there, coiled tight, waiting.
I breathe out.Just air.The glass in front of me hums. Vibrates. I feel it through my skull. Through my teeth. The humans flinch. Good. They should.
They talk. A lot.
I listen.
Voices blur together at first, then separate. I start recognizing patterns. Who speaks too much. Who never shuts up. Who smells like sweat and fear even when they pretend not to.I notice something else.Someone is missing.
That smell. The one that doesn't fear me. The one that never tastes right.
The blond.The absence claws at me worse than the chains.
Time passes. I know because their footsteps change. Their voices loosen. Their fear thins out until it's barely there at all.That's new.They start coming closer.They cut me. Take from me. Steel bites my skin and pulls back red. My muscles twitch, once. I let them. I watch. I memorize their faces.They think the light and the drug did this.They think I'm calm.
They don't understand.I am awake.More than before.
Thoughts slide into place where instincts used to sit alone. Memories surface without blood dragging them up. I notice details I never cared about. The way the ceiling hums. The rhythm of hearts. The way confidence smells worse than fear.
They get careless.
One of them steps too close.He smells wrong. Not afraid. Not cautious. Just bored.He talks like I'm already dead.He pokes me.Pain flashes, dull and irritating. I don't react. I watch him instead.He laughs.Calls melucky. Calls the blond stupid. Says he's nothing special. Says I couldn't kill him because I didn't want to. Or couldn't.Something inside me tightens.My breath stops.Just for a moment.The wrong calm cracks.
A sound crawls out of my chest. Not loud. Not big. Wrong. It shakes the air inside my bones. I feel hearts stutter around me. Fear finally spills.There it is.I move.
Chains scream. Metal tears. The floor jumps under my weight as I rise. Light floods over blood and teeth and horns.I lower my head.I take him.My horns punch through his body like it's wet cloth. I feel ribs give. Lungs burst. His fear hits me all at once and it's thick and hot and perfect.I lift him.Shake him.He breaks.
Blood rains down my face, warm, familiar. I bite. Tear. Rip him apart because I can. Because he spoke that name like it meant nothingThey scream.They run.They shoot.It doesn't matter.
I wade through them, crushing, biting, tearing. Heads break between my teeth. Bones snap under my hooves. Fear pours out of them in waves and I drink it down until my body swells and the light finally starts losing.When it's over, the room is quiet.Red.I stand there breathing, chest heaving, hunger humming low and satisfied for now.They should have stayed afraid.
They should have Never mentioned him