How Far

How Far? 

 My Husband’s Partner  

  Kathe woke in the middle of the night to the totally delightful sensation of her husband’s naked body sliding up hers, his rock-hard flesh nestled between her wet heat. His warm lips nibbled at the special spot on her neck just below her left ear. That never failed to fill her entire body with heat and longing for him.

Sex that night was extremely hot and explosive. She lost count of how many times they pushed, pumped, and pounded each other into sweet oblivion. When they finally parted, they lay exhausted on the bed beside one another until sleep finally claimed them.

He was gone when she had awakened the next morning. Kathe smiled nonetheless as she looked to the nightstand to find the little note he always leaves when he has to go before she wakes.

Smiling, she sank back into the pillows to read it. “Mao and I are part of an undercover sting, so I probably will not see you until tomorrow or the day after. But don’t worry, K, Mao’s got my back. Love you, Lou.”

She lay there for a while, remembering their early lovemaking, until the yipping of her two dogs downstairs broke her reverie. Kathe sighed. She had always wanted children, but Lou kept saying they should wait. Instead, Lou’s demon partner had brought her two of the largest dogs she’d ever seen. Snow white and towering up to her ribcage, Kathe had joked that Mindi and Mike might be old demons who lost their humanoid form. After receiving them, she never complained about not having children again—they were more than a handful.

Though the Arc Police worked their agents hard, the pay was amazing. Most Arc spouses lived in large homes with plenty of servants, but not Kathe and Lou. They preferred a simple two-story house with a spacious yard for their “babies.” Kathe did all the housework herself to stay busy since Lou didn’t want her working.

That afternoon, she stood in the laundry room ironing, the local news playing from her radio pod. The hum of daily updates kept her company until a sudden beeping signaled a special bulletin.

“This just in,” the newscaster’s voice turned serious. “An Arc Police officer was seriously wounded this afternoon in a shootout in the Kubai Park district. The officer’s name is being withheld pending further investigation.”

The iron stilled in Kathe’s hand as her mouth went dry. Her heart began to race. She set the iron down and quickly searched for the cell phone Lou had bought her. It was hidden in the cabinet above the washer.

Over their fifteen years together, Lou had always been quick to reassure her when news like this broke. Either he or his partner, Mao, would call her to let her know everything was alright. They had agreed on this system ever since Kathe had ended up in the hospital six years ago from worrying. Usually, one of them called within an hour.

Three hours passed. No call. Fear gripped her chest. And then the doorbell rang.

Mindi and Mike raced to the door, barking and yipping.

“Thank the gods,” Kathe mumbled, rushing to the front door. She flung it open, expecting Lou. “Lou! I—”

But it wasn’t Lou. It was Mao. His gray eyes, usually unreadable, were filled with something that made her stomach drop.

“Mao, I saw the news. Lou… was he… shot?” Her voice trembled.

“Koi, I…”

Kathe’s eyes darted to the curb. Mao’s dark SUV was parked haphazardly.

“I’ll grab my purse. We can go see him,” she said quickly, trying to force down the rising dread. “Please, Dear Kami, let him be alright.”

She turned to hurry back inside, but Mao grabbed her arm, his grip tightening. His claws brushed her skin. She froze as she saw the look in his eyes. A brief, devastating flicker of sorrow.

“Koi… he didn’t make it.”

“Wh—What?”

One of Mao’s clawed hands cupped her face, his cold eyes softening as he gently whispered, “Lou died on the scene.”

“No.” Kathe recoiled, her voice shaking with rage and denial. “No! You liar!” Her hand lashed out, slapping Mao across the face. “You lying bastard! Lou’s not dead! He can’t be! He said you had his back!” She beat her fists against his chest, sobbing. “Why are you still alive and he’s… dead?!”

Mao didn’t stop her. He knelt down with her, holding her as her body wracked with sobs.

“Take your hands off me,” she growled, her dogs mirroring her anger with low whines. “How could you let him die? Where were you when he needed you?”

Mao’s expression faltered, raw emotion flashing in his usually cold demeanor. “Koi, please…” His voice was low, almost pleading.

“Don’t call me that!” she screamed, pushing him away. “Don’t you ever call me that again! Get out! I never want to see you, or your demon face, ever again!”

“You don’t mean that,” Mao whispered, his voice breaking.

“Oh, I do,” Kathe hissed. “Get. Out. Now!”

---

Days flew by, and Kathe found herself numb, her home full of family, friends, and Arc officers offering condolences. Still, she found it hard to believe Lou was really gone, even after seeing his body. But the moment she saw Mao, it all came rushing back to her. ‘Why was he alive when her beloved was lying cold in the ground?’

“Get out of here,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

He held his hands up as a sign of peace. “Koi, please know I would have died to save Lou. You know this?”

“Then why are you not dead, too?”

Gasps filled the room from the humans and demons that were gathered to pay their respects. Their shock flashed across her senses, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Her mother-in-law squeezed her shoulder and looked at Mao.

“She doesn’t mean that Kathe is just upset. She doesn’t mean. . “

“I do mean it,” Kathe pulled away from her mother-in-law and marched up to the shocked Inu. At the moment, she didn’t care to notice he looked as bad as she did. She didn’t care that he was suffering from the loss of someone he saw as a pack. All she thought about at the moment was clawing his face off for showing up. “Come to rejoice on how you’re free of the pack that was dragging you down?” More gasps filled the room. Everyone but Kathe saw how Mao blanched. “Are you happy now that you let your so-called packmate die?”

Mao walked away that day and wasn’t seen again until the burial.

Months after the funeral, her mind still replayed their last moments together. She sped through the day, only to come home and fall into bed and snuggle up to the fading scent of her husband. Her dreams were filled with their last lustful romp, the feel of his muscled, sweat-soaked body pushing into her own, the way his strong callous hands gripped her hips. When the dreams ended, her body would be on fire, lust filling every nerve ending until she was a ball of frustrated mess.

---

Mao called every so many days over the months, but Kathe would never speak to him. The puppies would bark and howl at the phone as if telling him to ‘come back‘.

---

“Kathe, what’s wrong with your… animals?” Kitty snapped at Kathe.

“I wish I knew.” Kathe sighed, looking at the phone one last time. “Maybe I should answer him, Kitty?”

“No, forget that demon, Kathe,” who was at that very moment rubbing those giant Inu again as they both eyed her like a piece of meat.  Kathe got the dreamy look Kitty hated in her eyes.

---

Kitty had hated Kathe since the Academy. Kathe broke records. She had won the hearts of everyone. A nobody, broken trash from trashville. Kitty thought as she watched Kathe bend forward and rub her forehead against those mongrels. Kitty’s face twisted up into a hateful look as she watched the woman she claimed as her best friend. 

The truth was, Kitty hated Kathe with more passion than she loved Lou. Lou, who came two years after they had joined Arc. Kitty was instantly attracted to Lou. But he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off, Miss Perfect. 

Kitty had met Lou three years before Kathe returned. Victorious! Of Course. Kills off the charts. Everyone at Arc compared themselves to her. Kitty hated it. Kathe never left a trace; it always looked like a heart attack. 

After Kathe’s return, Lou forgot about Kitty. That was until he rose in the department. Kathe didn’t hide that she was forever turning down higher-ranking jobs in Arc. No one knew why until Lou announced their engagement. 

He took office as Senior Detective and Kitty as his lover. 

For ten of the fifteen years, they had been married. 

But Kitty wasn’t the only one he was fucking. She found out because Lu gave her VD once from fucking that bitch in accounting, Estela. Still, she loved him. But she knew Lou would never leave Kathe.

 She was offered Head of Undercover Operations at Arc. She laughs silently that the woman still has her value. 

The growl of one of Kathe’s animals brought Kitty from her thoughts.

---

“Where are you going?”

“To see Mao. I feel like something is wrong.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes.  ” What if you catch him in bed again or on the floor? Think about that, Kathe.”

”I have Kitty. I have to go see him. Apologize!”

“Why?” Kitty had the nerve to look disgusted and crossed her arms. “He let Lou die, maybe even killed him himself.”

“No, Kitty, he didn’t. Mao has always been there for me and helped me. It’s time to be a big girl and apologize, Kitty. He took us as a pack, and I have denied him long enough.”

“What are you saying? I don’t understand,” Kitty started with a hand on her hip, sneering at Kathe. “I so don’t understand you right now. He probably did kill Lou.”

“That’s enough, Kitty. I’m going! Mike and Mindi will see you out,” she threw out, walking out of the room. They growled savagely, baring their teeth, looking so much ‘bigger’, Kitty thought as she raced to the doorway. 

Oh, how she hated those empty-headed Beasts.

Mao had a small place not far from their house, within walking distance. When Kathe arrived, she noticed immediately that something was wrong. His car was in the driveway, a single light on inside, but something felt off. He had once told her demons didn’t need lights to see at night, and the emptiness of the house felt unnaturally silent. She hesitated on the front step, wondering if he had company. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d walked in on him with someone else, the pain of those memories flickering briefly through her mind.

But tonight, something told her this was different. Her heart twisted with guilt. She had treated him so terribly. Her anger had driven him away, but her soul knew—she had to make things right. She missed him. During the past few years, Mao had practically become part of her household. He filled the empty space when Lou was away on long assignments. He’d come over for dinner, stand in for Lou at events she had to attend, and even send her flowers on her birthday. He was always there. But now…now she had pushed him away in her grief, and something told her that was a mistake she couldn’t afford to leave unresolved.

She rang the bell again. Silence. Her gut churned. Something was wrong.

Circling to the back of the house, she peered through the only lit window—his den. The sight inside made her blood run cold. Mao knelt before the fireplace, the specialized demon pistol in his hands, its dark barrel aimed at his own body. Kathe’s heart seized in her chest, and a scream caught in her throat. She had seen too many tragic ends in her life, but not this. Not him.

Her hands trembled as she rushed back to the front door, digging through her purse for the spare key he had given them. Panic made her fumble, nearly dropping it, her fingers slick with fear. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to get the key in the lock and shoved the door open.

“Mao!” Her voice was raw, barely a whisper as she ran to the den, heart pounding in her ears. “Oh, dear gods, what are you doing?”

No answer. The pistol lifted higher in his hands. His silence was louder than any scream.

“NO!” she shrieked, crossing the room in frantic strides, grabbing for his arm. He pushed her away with surprising force, her feet stumbling backward, nearly toppling over. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if resigned to a fate he had already decided.

Her breath caught in her throat when he turned his face toward her. The anguish in his eyes was soul-deep, raw, and unguarded in a way she had never seen before. Mao—the demon who had always been her rock, unshakable and calm—was broken. His suffering was etched into every line of his face, his gaze hollow with loss. Kathe’s stomach twisted. He had loved Lou like a brother, perhaps more than she had ever realized. How could she have been so blind to his pain?

“Mao…what are you doing?” Her voice cracked as she took in the destruction around them—the overturned furniture, the broken glass. The only thing still intact was a framed picture sitting on the mantle: the three of them on vacation, laughing. A memory from a time that felt like another life.

He pointed a finger at her, his hand trembling. His voice, when it finally came, was hoarse and gravelly, as if he’d been crying for hours. “This Mao is thinking of taking care of your problem.”

Her heart lurched. “Wh-what problem?”

He let out a small, broken whimper, his shoulders shaking. “This Mao is alive… and Lou is not.”

The full weight of his despair crashed down on her, and her tears began to fall uncontrollably. She had driven him to this—to the brink of despair and beyond. Her cruel words echoed in her mind: “Why are you alive and Lou is dead?” Gods, how could she have been so heartless?

“No…no, I didn’t mean it, Mao. I swear I didn’t mean it.” Her voice wavered, breaking under the weight of guilt. She reached for him again, desperate to pull him back from the edge.

“You did,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t stand there and lie to this Mao. We both know you meant it. If that is what it will take for you to forgive this Mao, then so be it.” His claws tightened around the grip of the pistol, and he lifted it once more, aiming at his heart.

Panic surged through her. “No! No, you selfish bastard!” Kathe grabbed his wrist again, her fingers digging into his skin. “Put that gun down! How much grief do you think your alpha female can take? Do you think you’re the only one who’s lost, someone? I lost him, too, Mao!”

His body trembled, but he didn’t fight her off this time. Her words pierced through the fog of his mind, and for a brief moment, he hesitated. She pressed on, her voice softer but no less fierce.

“You were all I had left of him, Mao. You—his brother, my friend. You kept me going when I didn’t know how. You stood by me, held me up when I couldn’t stand. Don’t you dare take that away from me now? I need you. I need you, Mao.” Her tears flowed freely as she clung to his arm, her face inches from his, willing him to see the truth in her eyes.

“You think this will fix things? That by dying, you’ll somehow make it right?” Her voice shook. “Lou wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want this.“

Mao’s hand faltered, the barrel of the gun lowering ever so slightly as he turned his head to look at her, really look at her. The cold, deadness in his eyes flickered, a spark of something struggling to come alive again. His claws loosened their grip on the gun, and with a choked sob, he let it drop to the floor.

Kathe wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, as he crumbled into her. For the first time, she felt the full weight of his grief as his body shook with silent sobs. She held him tightly, her own tears mingling with his, their shared loss binding them together in a way neither of them had expected.

They were all each other had left.

Kathe watched as Mao’s body stiffened, his once-softened eyes growing cold and distant again as he shoved her away. The force of his rejection sent her stumbling to her knees. She clutched her chest, the pain within her almost unbearable. She had pushed him to this—pushed him to the brink of taking his own life. It was her words, her cruelty, that had driven him here, and the weight of that realization crushed her.

For the first time, she truly understood how much Mao meant to her. She wasn’t Inu; she didn’t live by instinct as they did, but over the years, Mao had taught her so much. She knew two things with absolute certainty: pack was an Inu’s entire life, and if Mao did this—if he ended his life—she would feel so empty, that she might not survive the loss herself.

“No…oh gods, Mao, please don’t do this!” Her voice was raw with desperation, her tears streaking her face, but still, he didn’t move. He stared at her, his eyes hard, his expression filled with a kind of grief that broke her. She saw his hands tighten into fists as he fell forward onto the floor, the demon pistol slipping from his grasp with a heavy thud.

Kathe scrambled to grab the gun, rushing to the other side of the room to place it out of reach. She could hear him breathing heavily behind her, but when he spoke, his voice—though back to normal—cut through her like a blade.

“What do you want from this Mao? You shut me out for months and denied me pack rights to comfort you,” he growled, his voice low and strained.

Relief washed over her that he was speaking again, but his words were sharp, and each one felt like a wound to her soul. She swallowed hard, her heart racing.

“How… how could you think for one second that I wouldn’t have died for Lou?” His voice cracked as his shoulders began to shake, his fists still clenched on the floor. “I would’ve given anything to be there in time. I have never let anyone or anything take him away from you. I heard the shot across the building, and I ran, but by the time I got there…”

His voice faltered, his breathing ragged, as if the memory was too painful to put into words. “He was already lying there on the ground. I knew he was gone before I even touched him. A piece of me died there with him.”

Kathe’s heart shattered as she listened, her own tears falling freely. His pain was a mirror of her own, the loss of Lou tearing both of them apart in ways neither of them had prepared for. Mao suddenly threw his head back and let out a long, guttural howl, a sound so full of agony that it echoed in her chest, making her want to crumble under the weight of it.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried, rushing back to him and wrapping her arms around his trembling body. “Mao, I’m so sorry!”

For a moment, she thought he would push her away again, but this time, he didn’t. His arms came around her, and he buried his face against her chest, his body shaking uncontrollably. They sat there together, clinging to each other in their shared grief, but then, after a few moments, he pulled away.

“I failed him, Kathe. I failed my Alpha. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve your kindness,” he growled, his voice thick with self-loathing as he searched the floor for the gun again.

“No!” Kathe grabbed his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You didn’t fail him, Mao! It wasn’t your fault. A part of me has always known that.” Her voice cracked as she caressed his cheeks. “I was hurting so much. I needed someone to blame, and I’m so sorry I made that someone you. Please, forgive me.”

He stared at her, his Lavender eyes filled with pain, but slowly, something began to shift in his expression. His emotions, long buried, flickered back into focus as he gazed into her tearful hazel eyes.

“I feel so empty,” he finally whispered, his voice raw. “I have no one. Nothing.”

“That’s not true,” she replied softly, brushing her thumb along his cheek. “You have me, Mao. We are pack. I need you.”

His gaze flickered with something—hope, maybe—though it was fleeting. He shook his head. “I would’ve died to protect him. If I could, I would’ve taken that bullet for him. You have to believe me, Kathe.”

“I do. I always have,” she said, her hand sliding into his messy black hair, smoothing it back behind his elfin ears. He looked so lost, so worn, and it broke her all over again. “I’m so sorry for putting you through hell, Mao. I made this so much harder for you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes finally softened, a flicker of warmth returning. “I’m the one who needs to be forgiven,” he growled softly, pulling her into his lap. She gasped as his arms tightened around her waist, and he leaned in to lick the tears from her cheeks, a sign of affection and deep regret. “I thought I would die when you shut me out. You’re all I have left, my Koi.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Mao,” she whispered. When their eyes met, the air between them changed. His lips crashed against hers, devouring her with a hunger that startled her. The heat that coursed through her body made her lower half clench and throb with a need she hadn’t expected.

This wasn’t the first time Mao had kissed her. Two years earlier, when his younger half-brother had died in a boating accident, Lou had asked her to stay with him for the weekend. “He needs a female right now, K, and you’re the only one left in our little pack,” Lou had told her.

She’d held Mao that first night, soothing him, kissing the top of his black head while he wept. They had exchanged gentle, healing kisses back then, though nothing more had happened. She had sensed his arousal, but it hadn’t gone any further.

Now, as Mao kissed her with an intensity that sent fire racing through her veins, she realized just how deeply their connection ran. It was more than comfort. It was a bond that transcended grief and their desperate need for each other.

In the corner of her mind, Kathe thought it was strange to feel a rush of desire from kissing him now. Maybe it was sitting on his lap while he held her,  as though he’d never let her go again. Or maybe she had just missed him so much these last few months. She didn’t know; all she knew was that one moment she wanted to comfort him, and the next, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, eagerly returning his hungry kisses, and wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her.

He kissed her slowly as if savoring the taste of her. He was tender as he encouraged her to part her lips. When she did, his tongue swept into her mouth, warm and moist, searching for her own. She leaned into him, and he deepened the kiss. She could feel him harden quickly under her. His big hands brushed against her breast, and she shivered and pulled away from him. Her head dropped back on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. Knowing she was already at the point where she was ready to just rub her behind against his erection.

He nudged her neck and sighed into her ear, “Koi,” asking for permission before he continued.

Her mind screamed at her to stop now. But she also felt limp and needy. She wanted, no, she needed to be made love to and needed to feel him inside her achy, empty center. And who better to feel that need than Mao? The demon who had always been so sweet and gentle with her, who had called her “Koi” from almost day one?

“Yes, “she whispered, and he pulled her face to the side and kissed her again.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her through the dark house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, he undressed her slowly, kissing each part of her body he exposed. He lingered a long time over her breasts, sucking and licking, his nostrils quivering ever so often. The smell of her lust clearly worked its magic on him.

When at last he undressed, a fresh surge of dampness oozed from her body, bringing a flood of red to his eyes as he watched her. He quickly slipped between her parted thighs, rubbing against her heat. And then finally, slowly pushed his enormous head into her aching, hungry center. It had been so long, and she was so horny that she moaned, shuddered, and came when he bottomed out.

“Oh! Oh, dear gods! Mao. . .Oh, more…More…Please!”

The feel of him moving inside her in slow, measured strokes was mind-numbing. She lifted her head and looked between their bodies; the sight of him sinking into her was enough to send her over the edge again into another orgasm. She fell back on the bed, lifting her hips to meet his downward thrusts, loving the way he filled her to the brim. The sounds of his growls were music to her ears.

“Please, almost there . . . Please,” she whimpered.

He suddenly cupped her bottom in his big hands, lifted her hips, and ground down against her wet core. He thrust deep at the same time his hot mouth found that sensitive spot on her neck.

She moaned, shuddered, and sobbed with delight, then shattered into a million pieces as her body was flooded with delicious wave after wave of hot, steamy, blistering pleasure. Within minutes, he followed her over the edge, his howl of pleasure muffled by her throat.

No words were needed as they both sighed, and he hugged her to him. They both fell asleep peacefully for the first time since Lu’s death.

---

Kathe woke during the night to his whisper of “Koi.”

He was hard and throbbing against her leg, a jolt of desire shot through her. She willingly turned in his arms and moaned as he slid into her with one quick movement that left her gasping and wanting more.

“Koi, you’re so sweet,” he rained soft, heated kisses over her breast. His hands were everywhere: stroking her breast, her thighs, cupping and massaging her behind.

Her body burned everywhere he touched it. She found herself wanting him so much. “Mao. . .” she gasped.

“Koi, you feel so good, you smell. .so good. .I need this. I need you, Koi.”

His growled words of pleasure fueled her passion and hunger for him. She clung to him, and they kept at each other until exhausted and sexually sated, they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, him still buried deep inside her.

Before the first light of dawn crept through the windows, Mao stirred, waking to the warmth of Kathe beside him. With an inward groan, he reluctantly separated from her, careful not to disturb her as she shifted slightly and settled back into a peaceful slumber. Even the curve of her back was as mesmerizing as the rest of her, and for a moment, he allowed himself the indulgence of simply watching her sleep, her soft murmurs filling the room.

---

Pulling on his pants in near silence, Mao left the room with quiet, practiced steps. Just as he reached the hallway, the phone rang. He caught it on the second ring, already knowing who waited on the other end.

“I take it from the fireworks in the sky that it’s finally done?” his father said, amusement curling through the words.

Mao glanced back toward the bedroom. Kathe murmured softly in her sleep, a sound that tugged at him like a hook under the ribs. “Not yet, Father,” he replied, exhaling slowly. “But it will be soon.”

“Good,” his father said. “Then bring her by. Your mother has missed her.”

“Fine.” Mao ended the call, his hand lingering on the phone longer than necessary before he turned back upstairs.

---

He paused in the doorway.

Kathe lay sprawled in the sheets, unguarded, her face serene. Fifteen years had passed since she first stepped into his life, untouchable as the wife of his human partner, Lou. She had been breathtaking even then. Elegant. Controlled. Unaging.

A Daiisan frozen at twenty, as though time itself had lost interest in claiming her.

Lou had never forgiven her for that.

As the years carved lines into his face and softened his body, Lou’s resentment had grown loud and corrosive. He complained openly, bitterly, about her youth, about how she never changed while he did. Mao had listened to it all, jaw clenched, stomach turning.

He loathed Lou. Not only for his envy, but for the way he treated Kathe like a possession meant for display. Lou boasted about her to other men, bragging about their bed as if it were a trophy case. Mao had learned to school his expression, to swallow the urge to rip the truth open and lay it at Kathe’s feet.

And Lou’s infidelity. That had been the worst of it.

Women on the force. Casual, careless betrayals. Lou never tried very hard to hide them, secure in the belief that Kathe would never leave, never age, never notice. Mao had carried that knowledge like poison in his blood, unable to speak it without shattering her life.

But Lou was gone now.

And in the wreckage, Mao finally held what he had wanted for so long.

For fifteen years, he had adored her in silence. Small gestures. Careful kindnesses. Watchful restraint. All of it unnoticed, or politely ignored. For fifteen years, her scent lingered on Lou’s clothes, tormenting him. For fifteen years, Mao had listened to the muffled sounds through the wall when they vacationed together, sitting rigid in the dark, imagining her mouth shaping another man’s name.

A few years ago, restraint had begun to rot.

The thoughts he’d buried put down roots. Want turned into need. Need into certainty.

That was when he went to his parents.

They lived among humans, worked beside them, but they were not bound by human laws of love or ownership. Demons. Pack-born. Their understanding of bonds ran deeper, older, and far less forgiving.

They listened. They considered. Then they planned.

At the time, Mao hadn’t fully understood how much that conversation would fracture the world he knew. His parents lived by a code that made no apology to human morality. In that code, Kathe had never truly belonged to Lou.

She belonged to the pack.

She belonged to him.

It had always been a matter of time.

---

Now Mao sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep, his chest tight with something that was not quite guilt and not quite relief. The road to this moment had been paved with quiet cruelties and necessary sins.

But she was here.

After fifteen years of hunger, restraint, and watching another man squander what he never deserved, Mao finally had her.

And this time, he would not let her go.

Mao smirked as he watched Kathe roll to her back. He lightly pushed the hair from her face, and his smirk became a smile. The AC had kicked on some time ago, and her nipples were reacting to the drop in temp. He licked his lips, yet pulled the sheet higher to cover her.

He knew the pattern already.

When she woke, there would be hesitation. A flicker of regret, she would try to name as morality, or grief, or loyalty to a ghost. She would dress quietly and leave. And yet, without question, she would come back.

Her scent told him everything. Desire braided with confusion. Relief tangled with hunger. Return already written into her bones.

“Lou may not have wanted pups with you, my Koi,” Mao murmured, his voice barely disturbing the air as his hand rested warm and possessive over her stomach. “But your body asked all the same. And I answered.”

She responded with a low, unguarded sound and curled deeper into his pillow, stealing his scent as though instinct demanded it. The movement drew a quiet laugh from his chest.

So his emotions were not useless after all.

For centuries, he had dismissed them as inconvenient noise. Now he saw their value clearly. With the right touch, the right words, the right patience, he could guide her responses as easily as turning a blade in a wound. The thought promised a long, exquisite amusement. A few hundred years, at least.

He returned to the bed, settling behind her, the contrast of their bodies drawing a sharp breath he did not bother to hide. She pressed back into him without waking, seeking heat, seeking reassurance, seeking him.

His eyes closed.

---

And immediately, memory surged.

Lou on his knees. Dirt-stained. Shaking. Begging.

“Have you lost your mind, partner?”

“No,” Mao had answered calmly, raising the gun. “Just my patience with this game.”

The rain had been falling then. Soft. Persistent.

“It’s time you took the bullet, Partner. This time, I decline to take one for you.”

“K will never forgive you.”

“In time,” Mao replied, unmoved, “my Koi will love me. And you, human, will be forgotten.”

He had pulled the trigger without flinching.

Right between the eyes.

Mao remembered kneeling beside the body, watching bright green eyes cloud, watching breath fail, watching skin change color as life abandoned it piece by piece. He remembered the quiet satisfaction as he melted the weapon down with his poison, leaving nothing for the world to question. Then the call. The sirens. The clean narrative.

---

Now, in the present, Mao pressed a kiss to Kathe’s shoulder.

“In time,” he whispered again, this time to her.

Soon she would bear his mark. Soon she would belong to the pack not as borrowed flesh, but as claimed blood. And when that day came, there would be no room left for regret.

He would be Alpha.

And the past would stay buried.

The years that followed did not settle.
They fractured.

Drug raids. Gang busts. Violence climbing higher, faster—until it felt normal.

The newlyweds spent more time apart than together. Eighty percent, maybe more. Long nights stretched into longer silences.

What Kathe couldn’t understand was the space between things.

A bust would end.
The reports would be filed.
And still—two hours would pass before Lou came home.

Paperwork, he said.

Always paperwork.

Kitty once suggested there was another woman.

Kathe didn’t even entertain it.
Not Lou.

Mao kept her steady when the doubt tried to take root. Lunches. Movies. Quiet afternoons where nothing hunted them. Mao told her to keep her head up. To ignore the whispers.

Tonight, Mao and Lou were on a bust together.
Another gang. Another attempt to carve territory out of the Zone.

Another mistake.

---

Kathe woke choking on the tail end of a nightmare—lungs tight, skin slick with sweat.

Her phone was screaming.

She grabbed it, voice rough.
“Hel—”

Breathing. Ragged. Wet.

Distant howls bled through the line.

Then—

“K.”

Lou.

She was already moving.

“Lou.” Closet open. Gear in hand.

The howls were closer now. Lou’s breathing sharper. Faster.

“K—you have to come.”

Keys. Rifle. Jacket.

“Lou, what happened?”

She knew that sound.

Male Inu.

Not just restless.

Hunting.

Her mind rejected it even as her body moved faster. No Inu had gone feral inside a Zone in sixty years. Not like this. Not—

“ K. You have to come right now.”

Snarling—closer. Too close.

Kathe froze for half a second.

Her dream clawed back into her skull.

“Wh—”

“Please, Gods above, K—” Lou broke. The words spilled out between gasps, half-swallowed by panic.

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. He’s never crossed into the Midnight Zone before—I didn’t believe him. I’m sorry. K, I’m so sorry—”

Running. Branches snapping. Breath tearing out of him.

“Keep going,” Kathe said, already locking onto his signal. “What happened next?”

“They shot him.” Lou’s voice cracked.

“They shot him full of something—some drug. He’s—he’s not right. Half-changed. He tore through everyone. Everyone but me.”

A pause.

A breath.

“For now.”

In the background, something heavy moved.

Slow.

Deliberate.

“He’s chasing me,” Lou whispered, dropping low behind the brush. “K… do you hear that?”

Kathe did.

She didn’t hesitate.

“He’s playing with you.”

Her voice went cold—flat, precise, merciless.

The voice Lou hated.

The one that never shook.

The one that always meant someone wasn’t making it out alive.

---

Her engine roared to life.

He exhaled, shaky. Relief and something uglier tangled in his chest. She would find him. She always did. She could track a single hair across a hundred yards and tell you who it belonged to.

He had trained his whole life for this.

She was still better.

He hated it.

He needed it.

Right now, he needed her more than anything.

Between the trees—

white.

The Inu stepped into view.

Snow-pale fur streaked with blood that wasn’t all its own. Muscles twitching wrong beneath skin that couldn’t decide what it was anymore. Bones shifting under strain. Eyes blown wide—too bright, too aware.

Too hungry.

It didn’t rush.

Didn’t lunge.

It stalked.

Lou didn’t breathe.

The creature’s head tilted.

It had already found him.

It just wanted him to know.

---

His humanoid form was still there.

Barely.

It clawed at the inside of him, skin stretching wrong, bones grinding as if something larger was trying to wear him like a memory instead of a body. Every breath burned. Every thought slipped.

Control was not slipping.

It was being taken.

The last thing Mao remembered—clearly, cleanly—was Lou’s voice.

Careless.
Laughing.
Talking too freely about things that were not his to speak on.

About her.

His Koi.

Something old had risen then. Not anger. Not quite. Something deeper. Something that had lived long before language softened it into civility.

The Beast had stirred.

Mao had held it down.

He had forced it down.

—

They were getting their shots when Mao said it, almost absent, almost thoughtful.

“In six hundred years… I’ve never stepped into the Midnight Zone.”

Lou had laughed it off.

Of course he had.

Ningen always did when they didn’t understand the weight of a thing.

But Mao felt it.

A wrongness.

A line that should not be crossed.

---

The barrier opened.

They stepped through.

And something inside Mao broke.

Not slowly.

Not gently.

His vision smeared. Colors bled into each other, edges dissolving as if reality itself rejected him. His heartbeat doubled—no, split—one human, one something else, something older, louder.

And then—fire. Not literal. Worse. A voice. Not heard. Not spoken.

Felt.

Kill him.

The words were not words. They were instinct given shape. Violence given purpose.

Skin him.
Break him.
He speaks of what is yours. He breathes while disrespecting what is yours.

Mao staggered. Forced breath into lungs that didn’t want it.

No.

He pushed back.

Hard.

He is fragile, Mao argued. He is Ningen. He does not understand.

A snarl answered him—deep, ancient, unimpressed.

Then teach him.

Images flashed—red, torn, final.

Mao forced them away.

“He lives,” Mao ground out internally. “He keeps his light. His heart. His angel.”

For a moment—the Beast stilled.  Not obedient.

Watching.

Then it receded. Not gone. Never gone. Just waiting.

---

Everyone noticed something was wrong. Everyone except Lou. Lou kept talking. Laughing. Filling the space with meaningless sound, blind to the shift standing beside him. Mao’s gaze had turned.

Flat.

Cold.

Predatory in a way that had nothing to do with the job.

Lou never saw it.

Not until it was too late.

The Beast did not ask again.

It took.

Mao felt it surge forward—violent, unstoppable—his body no longer his, his control ripped from him like flesh from bone. A roar tore out of him. Not human. Not even close. And then he was moving—no, it was moving—back through the gate, through the trees, through anything that stood between it and the hunt. Mao was still there.

Trapped.

Watching through eyes that no longer belonged to him.

Screaming into a silence that did not care.

He is mine.

The Beast did not forget. Not the insult. Not the name. Not the way Lou had spoken of her.

Of Koi.

It would not be ignored again.

Somewhere beneath the roar, beneath the hunger—Mao broke. Because he understood something too late. The Beast had listened. It had learned. And now—it was not hunting Lou for sport.

It was hunting him for judgment.

And then—a scent. Familiar. Sacred. Impossible.

The Beast faltered. Just for a second. Just enough for Mao to feel it.

To reach.

To hope.

Koi.

When Mao surfaced, it was not to pain first—but to sound. A lullaby. Soft. Steady. Woven low, like something meant to calm a creature that did not deserve gentleness. For a moment, he did not open his eyes. Because if he did, it would become real. And if it was real… he would have to face what he had done.

Or almost done.

He blinked anyway.

The world came back wrong—too bright, too quiet, too clean. His body ached like something had tried to tear itself free and failed halfway through. And then—her. Kathe. Close enough to touch. Close enough that her voice settled into his bones instead of echoing in memory. She sat beside him, humming, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines over his hand like she was memorizing that he was still there.

Still human.

Still hers.

The dreams didn’t let go easily.

Blood.
Bone.
The sound of something enjoying the break.

Mao’s breath caught.

“Koi…”

The word scraped out of him, dry and fragile.

“Oh, my honey…” she breathed, relief breaking through her voice as she leaned in, pressing soft, rapid kisses across his face like she was trying to prove he was solid. “I was so worried about you.”

Her voice shifted. Subtle. Intentional. She slipped into Inu. Not the broken phrases she’d picked up over time.

Fluent.

Soft.

Commanding.

The Beast stilled.

Not out of obedience.

Out of recognition.

Mao didn’t question it. Not yet. He was too busy feeling her—alive, warm, unhurt. The dread that had been rotting through him since the dream cracked, just enough to let breath in.

He had thought—He had seen—you tore her open.

The memory didn’t belong to him.
But it clung anyway.

A low growl rolled through his chest.

Not his.

The Beast did not like being called savage.

It did not like being reduced.

It especially did not like being feared.

Kathe’s voice cut through both of them at once.

Clear.

Grounding.

Present.

For the first time since it began—the Beast did not push. Did not claw. Did not demand release. It simply… watched.

Listening.

“Are you well, sweetheart?”

Her fingers lifted to his face, brushing along his cheek, searching—not for injury, but for absence. For anything missing. For anything gone.

Mao swallowed.

“How did you—”

“Lou called,” she said simply, a faint edge threading her tone. “I tracked him. Found a very angry Inu. Saved the day. Everything’s fine.” She smiled. Like it had cost her something. Like she was choosing calm over truth.

Every part of Mao leaned into that smile.

Because it was easier than asking what she had seen.

Easier than asking what he had been.

“Are you mad, Koi…?” His voice dipped, softened—something close to a whimper threading through it before he could stop it. “I understand if you are.”

The Beast did not like that sound.

It did not like him lowering himself.

But it did not interfere.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, jerk,” she snapped—and then broke. Tears came heavy. Hot. Uncontrolled.

“Yes, I’m mad.”

The words shattered halfway through.

Mao moved without thinking, pulling her into him despite the pain, holding her like he could press the fear back out of her if he was careful enough. Her body shook. His did too. Different reasons. Same result.

Inside him—silence. Not peace.

Never that.

But something… listening.

They stayed like that longer than they should have. Longer than was safe. Long enough for Mao to realize something that unsettled him more than the transformation ever had. The Beast had not fought him once since she spoke. Not once since her voice turned to that language.

Not once since her scent filled the air.

It recognized her.

And worse—it approved.

Kathe stayed. Of course she did. She always did. She fed him, grounded him, filled the spaces where the Beast still lingered with something softer, something stubbornly human. She made sure his work was done, his life still intact, like he hadn’t nearly torn it apart with his own hands.

She built him back.

Quietly.

Without asking if he wanted to be rebuilt.

And Mao let her.

Because the alternative was looking too closely at what lived under his skin.

But peace never lasted.

It never did.

By Monday, duty called like it always would—cold, indifferent, inevitable.

Mao and Lou were summoned.

No time for recovery.

No time for questions.

No time to ask why the Beast had gone quiet.

When they returned, Kathe was still there. Still tending. Still watching. Still choosing him. Even as she prepared to leave again. Even as Lou lingered at the edges of everything, broken and apologetic and needing something she would inevitably give.

Mao watched her move through his space like she belonged there.

Like she always had.

Like she always would.

Inside him—the Beast stirred.

Slow.

Thoughtful.

Not angry.

Not wild.

Possessive.

And this time, Mao did not know which of them was more dangerous.

Mao Aria stood at the threshold of his family’s estate and did not move.

The mansion rose behind its gates like judgment given form—polished stone, perfect lines, a place where control was expected and weakness was… corrected.

He had avoided it for years.

Not because it was unkind.

Because it was precise.

His Dame, a figure of political gravity. His Sire, architect of order within the Zones.

And Mao—

had always been their quiet disappointment.

Not enough discipline.
Too much instinct.
Too much beast.

—

Today, he came anyway.

Because control was no longer something he possessed.

—

We do not need them.

The voice slid through him—low, deliberate.

We need her.

Mao swallowed, jaw tightening.

“I know.”

—

Inside, the air was still. A servant met him immediately, already aware of his presence.

“Where are my Dame and Sire?”

“In the sitting room, young Master.”

Of course they were.

Waiting.

They always were.

Each step echoed too loudly as he crossed the hall. Not because of the marble.

Because something inside him was pacing.

Restless.

Impatient.

Hungry.

The door opened before he reached it.

“Mao.”

His Dame’s voice was warm.

Too warm.

“How have you been, my son?”

For a moment—just a moment—he almost lied.

Then it broke.

“Mao has a problem, Dame.”

The words came out rougher than intended. Less controlled. Less him.

“This Mao… requires your aid.”

Her expression shifted—not fear, not yet—but awareness. Something in his tone had cut deeper than the words.

“Well then,” she said softly, stepping aside. “Come in, my pup.”

The door closed behind him.

A quiet, final sound.

Like a lock.

She saw everything.

The wrinkled shirt.
The undone tie.
The way his hands flexed—too often, too sharp.

“My poor pup…” she murmured. “What has brought you to us in such a state?”

Mao didn’t sit.

Didn’t breathe properly.

“I have found my life mate.”

Silence.

Not stunned.

Heavy.

His Sire stilled mid-motion, teacup hovering in the air.

His Dame blinked once.

Twice.

“This is… wonderful news,” she said carefully, the words chosen like stepping stones across something dangerous.

“When will we meet her?”

Mao’s throat tightened.

“You have already.”

The room changed.

Not visibly.

But the air tightened.

His Sire lowered the teacup slowly.

“You mean…?”

Mao nodded.

“My Koi is… exceptional, is she not?”

Glass shattered.

His Dame hadn’t even realized she dropped it.

The Beast shifted.

Not agitated.

Interested.

“But my son—”

“Even the great beast within this Mao has chosen,” Mao cut in, quiet, immovable. “There will be no other.”

That was the truth.

The only truth left.

There was never a choice.

The Beast’s voice curled through him, satisfied.

We saw her. We claimed her. You only caught up.

“This could be a problem, my pup,” his Dame said gently, though her fingers trembled as she reached for him.

His Sire’s gaze sharpened.

“Explain.”

She guided him to sit.

Mao let her.

Because standing felt too much like pacing.

Like hunting.

“She is…” Mao exhaled slowly, searching for something that would not break in his mouth. “Exquisite. Splendid.”

The Beast approved of those words.

Barely.

“And yet… she is the most dangerous predator within any Zone.”

His parents did not interrupt.

Good.

They understood what that meant.

“And still,” Mao continued, softer now, almost reverent, “she is the most delicate female this Mao has ever encountered.”

Ours.

“This Mao was ignorant when we first met,” he admitted. “She commanded our entire division.”

His claws flexed.

“That fool drove her away.”

A low growl slipped through.

Not entirely his.

“The Beast,” Mao continued, voice tightening, “wishes to punish Lou Abe.”

Silence.

Then—

“Mao, you cannot—”

“We want him to bleed, Dame.”

This time, there was no softness.

No apology.

“We want him to suffer for every insult, every betrayal, every moment he has diminished our Alpha female.”

His breath hitched.

“This Mao is… lost, Sire.”

And there it was.

The truth he had never spoken.

“When this Mao closes his eyes, he sees her. When Mao dreams…”

His voice faltered.

The images came uninvited.

Kathe—laughing. Wet hair clinging to her skin. Light catching on her like something sacred.

“She welcomes us,” he whispered. “Without fear. Without restraint.”

MINE.

“Mao…”

“No,” his Sire said sharply. “Let him speak.”

“When she touches this Mao…” His voice dropped, reverent, breaking at the edges. “Her soul… it wraps around us.”

Not him.

Us.

“And there is nothing else.”

Silence again.

Deeper now.

More dangerous.

“How could you let it go this far?” his Dame whispered.

Mao didn’t answer.

Because there was no answer.

“My pup,” his Sire said slowly, carefully, “how long has this been… consuming you?”

“Always.”

The answer came too fast.

Too honest.

“This Mao cannot exist without my Koi.”

The Beast stilled.

Listening.

“And she?” his Dame asked, dread creeping into her voice. “What is she?”

Mao met her gaze.

“One of the last.”

Understanding hit.

Hard.

“She is Miko.”

His Dame recoiled slightly.

“Extinct—”

“Not entirely.”

“And her husband…”

There it was.

The fracture point.

“Lou Abe,” Mao said, and the name tasted like rot.

His claws dug into his own palms.

“He is unworthy of breath.”

The Beast surged.

Say it.

“He lies. He cheats. He spreads filth wherever he goes,” Mao continued, voice lowering into something dangerous.

“He speaks of her as though she is lesser.”

The room felt smaller.

Tighter.

“He has taken what is sacred and made it… trivial.”

Kill him.

“This Mao…” he breathed, voice almost gone now, “…requests permission.”

His parents froze.

Because they already knew.

Mao moved.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And then—he knelt.

The sound of it echoed louder than anything else had.

“Great Dame. Great Sire. Supreme Alphas…”

His head bowed.

His spine curved—not in weakness—in offering.

“In accordance with pack law…”

His voice broke.

“…this Mao requests sanction…”

The Beast leaned forward inside him.

Grinning.

“…to end the life of Lou Abe.”

Silence.

Absolute.

His Dame’s breath shattered.

“Can he not be saved?” she cried.

And for the first time—the Beast answered her.

Not in words.

But in certainty.

No.

Micka had known something was wrong the moment her son stepped through the door.

Not because of how he looked.

But because of what he carried.

Her pup had never come to them like this.

Not as a child.
Not as a warrior.
Not even after the war had carved pieces out of him and left the rest standing.

He had always endured.

Silently.

But this—

This was not endurance.

This was a fracture.

Even before today, she had already begun digging.

Quietly.

Carefully.

Because nothing about his request had made sense.

Her son—who once burned with quiet disdain for Ningen—had come to her asking to bring two of them into their pack.

A husband.

A wife.

It had felt wrong.

Impossible.

—

So she looked.

And what she found…had unsettled her in a way few things ever had.

Kathe.

No lineage. No origin. No clear beginning.

Only records.

Endless, sealed, blood-soaked records.

“Death’s Mistress.”

A title given in jest—and then proven true.

Three thousand confirmed kills.

Eighty agents put down by her own hand.

A creature trusted to erase others who had gone wrong.

Micka had stared at those files for a long time. Not in fear.

But in understanding.

Of course it would be her.

Because Micka remembered the moment her son had changed.

Truly changed.

Not the day he left for training.

Not the day he joined ARC.

No.

The day he came home after that mission.

He had told them very little.

He always did.

But that day—he told them enough.

A field of bodies.

Blood burned into the earth.

Fire and rot and silence where there should have been noise.

And then—a shed.

Untouched.

Wrong.

Micka had watched her son as he spoke.

Watched the way his voice thinned.

The way his hands stilled.

A girl.

Small.

Broken.

Burning.

Still alive.

Something had entered him that day.

Something that had never left.

And now—he stood before her again.

Kneeling.

Breaking.

For the same female.

“My pup…” Micka whispered now, her voice trembling despite her control.

Because she saw it.

All of it.

The thread.

The moment it began.

The moment it ended.

“This Mao can say truthfully… no.”

His answer cut clean through her.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

She wanted to argue.

To push.

To save him from this.

“Is there not another way?” she asked anyway, softer now—not as Alpha.

As a mother.

“This Mao believed there was.”

His voice cracked—not loudly, but enough.

Enough for her to feel it.

“He lied,” Mao continued. “Lou Abe lied. He promised change. Promised to honor her.”

A breath.

Sharp.

“Six days.”

Micka closed her eyes briefly.

Because she knew males like that.

Had judged them.

Had erased them.

But never when her son was the one asking.

“Have you spoken to her?” she tried again.

Because law mattered.

Because if she could delay this—

if she could give him one more step back—

“This Mao holds proof.”

And just like that—the door closed.

Micka’s heart sank as he spoke of betrayal.

Of Kitty.

Of ten years of rot festering beside the one female her son had already bound himself to.

Her pup.

Her careful, controlled, disciplined pup—had chosen this.

Bao’s hand found hers.

Grounding.

Steady.

Their eyes met.

And in that look—she understood.

This was no longer a question of prevention.

Only containment.

“Is she worth this?” Bao asked.

Micka didn’t need to hear the answer.

She saw it already.

In his eyes.

In the red, beginning to bleed through.

In the way, something else stood behind him now—watching them back.

“Kathe Abe is My One.”

Micka’s breath caught.

Because that was it.

The point of no return.

She had heard that tone only once before.

From Bao.

Centuries ago.

There was no undoing this.

As Bao spoke of removing the Alpha Male, Micka listened—but her focus never left her son.

The way his shoulders had changed.

The way he no longer looked like he was asking.

Only informing.

And worse—

the way something inside him had gone quiet.

That frightened her more than anything.

“The female…” she said carefully, forcing herself back into the moment. “How does she feel for you?”

Because this mattered.

Because if Kathe did not choose him, this would destroy him.

“She cares,” Mao said.

But it wasn’t enough.

Micka heard it.

“Yet she denies you.”

“Loyalty,” he answered.

And there was no anger in it.

Only certainty.

“My One will not betray.”

Micka’s chest tightened.

Because of course she wouldn’t.

Of course, the female who survived that would cling to the last thing she could define as right.

Even if it killed her.

Even if it killed him.

“We respect bonds,” Bao said.

Micka nodded.

Because they must.

Even now.

Even here.

But when Mao said he had lost all respect—

Micka knew.

It was over.

Bao passed judgment.

Clean.

Final.

Micka added the condition.

“One last chance.”

Because she needed it.

Not for Lou.

For her son.

Because once he crossed that line—

there would be no bringing him back.

“Yes, Dame.”

He bowed.

Fully.

And something inside her broke.

Because he had never bowed like that as a child.

Never needed to.

“Mao, my pup…”

Her voice softened again as she reached for him.

“Kathe must never know.”

His stillness told her he understood why.

Even if he hated it.

She lifted his face gently.

Her pup.

Still her pup.

Even now.

“We are not Ningen,” she reminded him softly.

“Do not follow them into their broken ways.”

Her thumb brushed his cheek.

“When we love… we bind. Entirely.”

A warning.

A plea.

Because she had seen what partial love did.

What betrayal did.

What it had already done to him.

“This Kathe…” she murmured, glancing briefly to Bao. “She has lived among us.”

“But she does not know,” Bao replied.

“No,” Micka whispered. “She does not know what she is.”

And maybe—that was the only thing saving them all.

Mao sat back.

Quiet.

Resolved.

Thinking of her.

Only her.

Micka watched him.

Really watched him.

And for the first time since he was a child—

she was afraid.

Not of what he would do.

But of what would be left of him—

after.

For years, Mao made a quiet decision no one ever formally acknowledged.

He filled the absence.

Where Lou should have stood—he stood.
Where Lou should have guarded—he watched.
Where Lou failed—Mao endured.

Not as Alpha.

But as something far more dangerous.

Something that did not need permission.

It became routine.

Dinners.
Silences.
The slow, steady presence of a male who never left her unprotected—even when he had no right to be there at all.

Kathe never questioned it.

Or perhaps—

she chose not to.

He learned her rhythms.

The way she cooked. The way she moved. The way she existed in a house that never truly felt occupied.

He learned what she liked.

And what she lacked.

And he fed it.

Quietly.

Completely.

---

The fight over Kitty had been… inevitable.

Of all creatures.

That one.

Mao had known from the beginning what she was.

Not in species.

In intent.

Kathe had refused her.

Calm. Final. Unyielding.

“I don’t need anyone here during the day,” she’d said.

Simple.

True.

Because she was never alone.

Not really.

Lou, of course, pushed.

Of course he did.

Blind. Stupid. Careless.

---

Mao hadn’t raised his voice.

He hadn’t needed to.

He simply spoke truth.

Cold.

Exact.

“What happens when she sees you?”

Not if.

When.

“What happens when your Alpha Female discovers the rot you’ve invited into her den?”

Lou had bristled. Dismissed him. Laughed it off like always.

Mao had stepped closer.

Not threatening.

Not overtly.

But something in him had shifted.

“And what happens,” Mao had continued, voice dropping into something older, “when I see it first?”

That was all.

He didn’t need to say more.

Because Lou knew.

Mao would not allow it.

Not in her home.

Not in her space.

Not to her.

Not after what he had found.

---

The scent had been wrong.

Chemical. Bitter. Lingering in a place it did not belong.

Mao had followed it without thinking.

Without permission.

—

Taint.

He knew it immediately.

Of course he did.

A coward’s solution.

A predator’s tool.

—

Given slowly.

Quietly.

Repeatedly.

Until something sacred simply… stopped.

—

His hands had tightened around the small bottle.

Just for a moment—

just long enough—

The Beast stirred.

Not raging.

Not wild.

Precise.

Break it.

Mao didn’t argue.

The wind answered him before the thought fully formed.

A sharp current.

A shift.

The bottle slipped.

Fell.

Four floors.

—

Shattered.

—

Gone.

Mao stood there a moment longer than necessary.

Because the alternative—

was following the impulse further.

Find him.

He did.

Of course he did.

The scent led him exactly where it always would.

Kitty’s house.

Two blocks.

Two blocks from the place Kathe called home.

Mao stopped.

Sat there.

Hands still on the wheel.

Something inside him stretched thin.

Pulled between action and restraint.

He could end it.

Now.

Clean.

Final.

The Beast leaned in.

You should.

Mao exhaled slowly.

Closed his eyes.

Not yet.

He turned the engine over.

Left.

Because there was only one place he should be.

Only one place that mattered.

Kathe’s.

She opened the door before he knocked.

She always did.

As if she felt him before he arrived.

And there it was.

That smile.

Unaware.

Unbroken.

Still his—

No.

Not his.

Not yet.

But one day—

The Beast purred.

She will be.