Day 13 (Part 3) - Nests and Nerves

As they began to walk, Fang gently ushered Kev deeper into the forest, the crunch of leaves underfoot a soft counterpoint to the distant hum of the city. Rex, a silent sentinel, fell into step a few paces behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Before this was a park," Fang said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to blend with the sounds of the forest, "I used to come out here to destress. Running around always cleared my head."

Kev nodded, understanding the need for such an escape. "Swimming helps me," he offered, picturing the cool embrace of the pool back at the mansion.

Fang glanced down at him, a hint of surprise in his amber eyes. "Swimming, huh? Can't say I've ever used the pool much."

As they rounded a bend in the path, a small group of beastmen approached, their laughter echoing through the trees. Rex, his instincts kicking in, immediately moved to position himself between Fang and Kev and the approaching group, his posture radiating a subtle warning.

"Path's taken," Rex scoffed. "Find another."

A hyena man at the front of the group let out a derisive laugh. "You gonna do something about it, kitty cat?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of arrogance and amusement.

Kev, called out, "Rex, it's a public place! They can walk where they want!”

Rex spun on his heel, his golden eyes blazing as he glared back at Kev. Fang looked down at Kev, then at Rex, a muscle twitching in his jaw. With a curt gesture, Fang signaled for Rex to stand down. Rex’s lip twitched, his whiskers quivering with suppressed aggression, but he reluctantly stepped aside.

The group of beastmen swaggered past. The hyena, emboldened, jeered, "Looks like kitty's on a leash. Probably some freak from that sex dungeon." The group erupted in laughter, their voices echoing through the trees as they continued down the path, quickly forgetting the encounter.

Fang and Kev started walking again, passing Rex, who remained rooted to the spot, his glare now fixed on Fang's back.

"This place is the only forest in the city," Fang said, his voice a low rumble, seemingly unfazed by the hyena's insult. "You'd need to drive an hour to find something even close."

Kev giggled. "Me driving or Perry driving? I'd probably take three times longer."

Fang laughed, the sound a welcome release of tension. "Perry driving," he confirmed. "You shouldn't have to worry about something like that."

"Yeah, I'd rather not," Kev said. "The driving here seems crazy compared to what I'm used to… I heard Talon's sister was in a car accident." He looked up at Fang, but the wolfman's attention was elsewhere. Fang was glancing around, his brow furrowed. Kev followed his gaze and began to notice the park’s deteriorating condition. The trash cans were overflowing, litter strewn carelessly along the path. Some of the iron lampposts were dark, their lights extinguished, while others flickered erratically. A few benches were broken, their wooden slats splintered and askew.

Fang continued to walk, his pace steady, but his tail was now held rigidly out, a clear sign of his displeasure. The deeper they ventured into the park, the worse the neglect became. The once-manicured pathways were now cracked and uneven, encroached upon by weeds and untamed undergrowth. The air, once fresh and invigorating, now carried a faint, unpleasant odor.

Fang stopped abruptly, his head snapping up as he took in the dilapidated surroundings. "Kev, this is not right," he said, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and concern. "Something must be wrong." He whirled around, his gaze fixing on Rex. "What is going on here?"

Rex, still simmering from the earlier encounter, met Fang's glare with defiance. "I don't know," he growled.

"This place is a mess!" Fang's voice rose, echoing through the neglected trees. "Who's getting fired?"

Rex looked away, his jaw clenched. "Why don't you ask your little pecker-face valet?" he sneered. "Seems like he's privy to everything."

"Rex, shut your mouth!" Fang barked, his patience finally snapping. The fur on the back of his neck bristled. "If any of the other managers said something like that about you, what would you have me do?" Fang stalked towards Rex, his movements predatory. "You would want me to punish them, wouldn't you?"

Rex flinched, unable to maintain eye contact with the furious wolfman. He looked down, his ears flattening against his head.

"You are watching Kev right now, so I can't punish you," Fang said, his voice dangerously low. "But if I hear one more fucking word like that, I'm going to lose it. You should be happy Kev is here, or else I'd already have posted a job listing."

Rex trembled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Fang’s controlled rage. He tried to look back into Fang's eyes but couldn't.

"Shut up and do your job," Fang commanded, his voice cold and final. He reached out for Kev's hand, his grip surprisingly gentle, and stalked down the path, leaving Rex to trail behind them, his earlier arrogance replaced by a sullen silence.

Fang's pace quickened, his hand gripping Kev's tightly as he led him through the increasingly overgrown and poorly maintained paths. The air grew heavier, the scent of decay mingling with the damp earth. Finally, they emerged into a clearing.

It was bathed in an almost oppressive darkness, the moonlight struggling to penetrate the dense canopy above. Small, weathered rectangles of stone, their inscriptions faded and obscured by moss, stood unevenly spaced in the tall, unkempt grass. In the very center of the clearing, a bare, rusty flagpole stood forlornly, its metal groaning softly in the slight breeze.

Fang stopped at the edge of the clearing, his breath catching in his throat. "The city said they would maintain this," he whispered, his voice raw with a grief that startled Kev. "As part of the park deal." He looked around, his eyes hardening, the earlier anger returning with a fresh, painful intensity. He let go of Kev's hand, his touch lingering for a moment before he strode purposefully towards the flagpole in the center of the small, forgotten graveyard.

A guttural howl, filled with rage and anguish, tore from Fang’s throat, echoing through the silent clearing. He slammed his fist into the rusty flagpole, the metal groaning in protest.

Kev, standing at the edge of the cemetery, flinched at the raw display of emotion. He glanced back at Rex, who offered only a contemptuous sneer. Kev sighed, a familiar weariness settling over him, and walked towards Fang.

"Maffa! I'm going to end you!" Fang roared, his voice shaking with fury, his gaze fixed on the distant, glittering lights of the city.

Kev reached out, his hand gently touching Fang's arm. "Fang," he said softly, "this is your favorite spot?"

Fang's pained eyes locked onto Kev's, the anger momentarily receding, replaced by a profound sadness. "This isn't my favorite spot," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "This is a disgrace."

Kev's gaze swept across the neglected graves. "Can you tell me who this graveyard is for?" he asked gently. "Is it your family?"

"Family?" Fang yelled, his voice cracking. "The men in these graves are more important than just family! They gave their lives during the war, following my great-great-grandfather! Their loyalty will never be forgotten by me, and it should never be forgotten by the city!"

Kev looked around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He could now see the extent of the neglect. The graveyard was littered with trash – discarded bottles, crumpled wrappers, faded plastic bags. The graves themselves were overgrown with weeds, the headstones tilted and weather-beaten. Even the flagpole, the centerpiece of this hallowed ground, was bent and rusted, a symbol of the city's broken promise.

"They were brave," Kev said, his voice filled with a quiet respect. "Now that we know, we can do something about it."

"This is disrespect," Fang seethed, his anger returning. "Something will be done about it." He began to stalk back towards Rex, his fists clenched, his body radiating a barely suppressed fury.

"Fang, wait," Kev called out, his voice calm but firm. Fang paused, his back still to Kev. "Why not sit here for a bit and enjoy the night?" Kev continued. "I know the sight of this place might make you upset, but if this place is really that important to you… I want to sit for a bit and spend some time here.”

Fang’s shoulders, which had been rigid with anger, softened as he looked at Kev. The raw honesty in the human's eyes, the quiet understanding, seemed to soothe some of the wolfman's fury. "Yes," Fang said, his voice hoarse. "I can still pay my respects."

Kev nodded. "Take as much time as you need." He found a bench that was still relatively intact, its ironwork surprisingly resilient against the years of neglect, and sat down, facing the flagpole. He lit a cigarette, the small flame a fleeting point of light in the surrounding darkness.

The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the day and the stuffy, smoky atmosphere of the club. Kev watched as Fang moved slowly through the graveyard, his large form a somber silhouette against the moonlit sky. Fang paused now and then at different graves, his head bowed, a silent communion with the fallen warriors. Kev could only imagine the weight of history and responsibility that Fang carried, the deep connection he felt to these forgotten heroes.

Kev smoked his cigarette, the silence of the clearing broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. He carefully stubbed out the butt and tucked it into his pocket, not wanting to add to the litter already despoiling the sacred ground.

After a while, Fang returned to the bench.

"I'm sorry you had to see this, Kev," Fang said, his voice heavy with a mixture of shame and anger. "I am going to make sure someone pays for this."

Kev gestured for Fang to sit down beside him.

Fang sank onto the bench beside Kev, a weary sigh escaping his lips. "This was supposed to be a fun walk," he said, his voice laced with regret, "and I've just embarrassed myself. I never would have imagined the city would stoop so low."

Kev reached out and gently took Fang's hand, his touch a silent reassurance. "Why don't you tell me about your great-great-grandfather?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting. "If this is your favorite place, I want to learn more."

Fang's tail gave a small, involuntary wag as he looked at Kev, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. He hadn't expected Kev to show such genuine interest, such a willingness to understand the depth of his connection to this place.

"Kev," Fang began, his voice a low rumble, "my great-great-grandfather was the first president of the unified Continent. These men," he gestured towards the surrounding graves, "they all fought against the unified mammal rule. Their own kind. They fought to give avians and reptiles equal rights."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise and admiration. "That's amazing," he breathed, his voice filled with awe. "I couldn't imagine how hard it must be to do something like that… how brave some men can be." He squeezed Fang's hand, a silent testament to the respect he felt for these fallen heroes and the legacy they represented.

Fang looked down at Kev, his amber eyes filled with a profound emotion. He pulled Kev close, his strong arms wrapping around the human in a tight, almost desperate hug. "A man is most brave when he fears," Fang murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Kev hugged Fang back with equal intensity, the raw emotion of the moment, the potent weed oil, and the weight of Fang's family history overwhelming him. He felt a deep connection to the wolfman, a shared understanding of the burdens they both carried.

Then, a troubling thought surfaced, a dissonant note in the symphony of their shared grief. He pulled back slightly, his voice a hushed whisper against Fang's fur, "If you care so much about freedom, then how could you do that to Pedro?"

Fang's embrace loosened, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Who?" he asked.

Kev looked up, his own eyes now filled with a mixture of pain and accusation. "You sold him at the auction," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "And you've already forgotten? How could you say you respect men who fought for freedom when you stole freedom with your own hands?" The words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier warmth and intimacy of their shared moment.

Fang's embrace tightened, his expression shifting from grief to a kind of bewildered defensiveness. "Pedro?" He pulled back just enough to look into Kev's eyes, his brow furrowed, not in forgetfulness of the llama, but in a clear dismissal of his importance. "Kev, that... llama? That wasn't about his freedom. Don't you see? That was about you."

His hands moved to cup Kev's face, his thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. His amber eyes, though still holding a trace of the earlier pain, now burned with a fierce, possessive intensity. "He tried to make a spectacle of you, Kev. He wanted to win you as a prize, to parade you around. He disrespected you. And by doing so, he disrespected me."

Fang’s voice dropped, becoming a low, almost hypnotic purr. "What I did to him... that was a message. A very clear, very public message to everyone in that room, to everyone in this city who might hear about it." He leaned closer, his breath warm against Kev's skin. "It was to show them that you are mine. That you are under my protection. That anyone who even thinks of laying a hand on you, of disrespecting you, of trying to take what is precious to me, will face a fate far worse than being sold to the highest bidder."

He searched Kev's face, a flicker of something almost vulnerable, almost pleading, in his eyes. "Can't you see that, my love? It was a demonstration. A demonstration of how far I will go to ensure your safety, to ensure you are respected as... as mine." He stumbled slightly over the last word, as if the depth of his own possessiveness surprised even him. "He learned a lesson. They all learned a lesson. About what happens when you trifle with what belongs to Fang. It was for you, Kev. To keep you safe, to show the world you are valued beyond measure.”

Kev pushed back slightly, his brow furrowed, the logic not quite landing. "But... slavery, Fang? Would the men buried here, these men who fought for equal rights, approve of you selling someone into slavery, no matter the reason?"

Fang’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his cheek. His grip on Kev's face softened, but his eyes remained intense. "Kev, these men," he gestured again to the weathered stones, "they weren't saints. They were soldiers. They fought in a brutal, bloody war. Freedom wasn't won with polite words and good intentions. It was won with sacrifice, with difficult choices, with actions that, in another context, might seem… unsavory." His voice was low, strained. "They did what they had to do to protect what they believed in, to secure a future for others. They understood that sometimes, to protect the innocent, you have to be ruthless with those who would cause harm."

Kev pulled away further, stepping back from Fang's embrace, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. "But this isn't a war, Fang. Pedro was… an idiot. A hustler. He wasn't a threat to my life."

Fang’s hand shot out, grabbing Kev’s arm, his fingers digging in slightly. "Every day is a war when you're fighting for something, Kev!" His voice cracked, the raw emotion in it startling. "Fighting for this club, for my legacy, for... for you! Do you think the city council plays fair? Do you think those enforcers were just out for a casual stroll? They see weakness, and they pounce. Pedro was a lesson, a necessary one, to show them I am not weak, and what I value will be defended, fiercely!"

Kev looked up at Fang, and his own anger faltered. The wolfman's eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, were welling with unshed tears, a vulnerability exposed that Kev had never witnessed. The sight was disarming, heartbreaking.

With a soft cry, Kev lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Fang's waist, burying his face in the wolfman's chest. The scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Fang, something wild and comforting, enveloped him. "I don't understand," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "This place is so different from where I'm from. At first, I thought it was just the club, but..." He couldn't articulate the rest, the overwhelming sense of cultural dissonance, the feeling of being adrift in a world with rules he couldn't comprehend.

He pushed away again, just enough to look up at Fang, his own eyes now wet. "Fang," he said, his voice trembling, "I've been lying to you.”

Fang went utterly still. The raw emotion that had been radiating from him moments before seemed to retract, replaced by a chilling quiet. He took a deliberate step back from Kev, his eyes, still glistening, now held a dawning suspicion. A low growl rumbled in his chest, not of anger, but of something deeper, more unsettling. "Explain yourself," he commanded, his voice flat, devoid of its earlier warmth.

Kev flinched at the shift in Fang’s demeanor. He pulled his hands back, clutching them tightly against his own chest as if to ward off a blow. He couldn't meet Fang's gaze, his eyes fixed on the overgrown grass at their feet. "The first day," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I woke up in that... that little room. I didn't know where I was, how I got there. And then... then you barged in."

Fang’s brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "Get on with it," he demanded, his voice regaining some of its earlier sharpness, though now laced with a different kind of tension.

Kev shuddered, the memory of that initial terror still vivid. "I'm not... I'm not who you think I am," he choked out. "I'm not whoever they hired to be your personal assistant. I don't know who that person is, or how I ended up in their room." He risked a glance at Fang, whose expression was now unreadable, his eyes hard, his tail perfectly still. The sight made Kev's stomach clench.

He quickly looked away again, turning his back on Fang and sinking onto the cold iron bench, his shoulders hunched. "I was lost," he continued, his voice trembling. "And you... you gave me a home. A job. I didn't know what to do, how to tell you. Everyone... Horns, Cindy... they were all telling me I was doing a good job, that I was good for you. I was so scared." He buried his face in his hands. "Scared of telling you the truth, scared of what you'd do. Scared of being homeless, out on the street in a place I don't understand, knowing nothing."

The silence stretched, broken only by Kev's quiet, shuddering breaths. Then, he felt the bench dip beside him. Fang had sat down, still silent, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.

Kev kept his face hidden, the words tumbling out now, a torrent of fear and confession. "And you were so... kind. Not always with your words, no," a small, watery chuckle escaped him, "but with your actions. You... you offered me the bed on my very first night. When I was terrified, and you looked like you wanted to eat me."

He felt a large hand settle on his shoulder. He looked up, his vision blurred by tears, to see Fang looking at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, slowly, Fang pulled him into an embrace. It wasn't the fierce, possessive hug from before, but something softer, almost hesitant.

"And I couldn't even let you sleep in it," Fang said, his voice a low, rough murmur against Kev's hair.

Kev hugged Fang back, clinging to him. "It's the thought that counts," he whispered, the simple truth of it anchoring him in the swirling chaos of his emotions.

Fang held Kev for a moment longer, then gently pulled back, his hands still resting on Kev's shoulders. His gaze was searching, the earlier hardness softened by a bewildered concern. "Tell me where you are from, then," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

Kev rubbed at his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand and coughed, trying to compose himself. "It feels like... it feels like I'm from a different world," he confessed, the words tasting strange on his tongue. "But that would be crazy, right?" He let out a shaky laugh. "Where I'm from, there are only humans. Beastmen... beastmen are just things that sing and dance in animated movies."

Fang's brow furrowed deeply. "What?" he breathed, the single word laced with utter confusion.

"Beastmen were just a myth," Kev elaborated, his voice still trembling. "Like... like unicorns or dragons. I don't know." He looked at Fang, his eyes pleading. "And you don't know how you got here?" Fang pressed, his voice still low, but with a new urgency.

Kev shook his head vehemently, fresh tears spilling over. "No. Please, believe me. I'm so sorry for lying to you."

Fang pulled Kev tight against him again, a low sound, almost a whimper, escaping his throat. He held Kev for a long moment, his large body a solid, comforting presence in the darkness. "None of the staff can recall who brought you into that room," Fang said, his voice muffled against Kev's hair. "The records from Lanon all seem correct. I've gone over them personally… but none of the paperwork is for you..."

"I don't blame anyone from the club," Kev whispered, his voice raw. "I just... I feel like I'm going crazy." He pulled away from Fang again, needing to see his face, needing to gauge his reaction. "I've been trying so hard to avoid thinking about this," he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Trying so hard to fill my daylight hours with activities, with cleaning, with playing guitar, with talking to people... anything so I didn't have to sit and think about how I got here. Every time it creeps into my head, I feel like I'm insane. It's so hard to stop thinking about it, like... like some cosmic, planet-devouring entity just decided to really fuck with me." He shuddered, then his gaze softened as he looked at Fang. "But then you laid down next to me and all the fear vanished... I was thinking about you."

At that, Fang's tail gave a single, almost imperceptible wag.

Kev took a deep, shaky breath. "If you want, you can try to track down where I'm from," he said, his voice gaining a sliver of resolve. "But I don't care. I don't want to care, and I don't want to think about it. I just want to keep moving forward and not go insane.”

Fang was still quiet, his brow furrowed as he absorbed Kev’s chaotic, heartfelt confession. The only sound was the distant city hum and the rustling of leaves in the neglected graveyard.

Kev looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed but earnest. "I don't want to lie to you anymore, Fang," he said, his voice steadier now. "You can try to figure out what's going on, but I feel like I'm really far from home." He looked back down again, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe I am the assistant and I've got amnesia or something," he offered, a small, humorless laugh escaping his lips.

At that, Fang chuckled, a low, soft sound that surprised Kev. Kev looked up at him, his expression questioning.

Fang smiled down at Kev, a genuine, gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You wouldn't be the only member of my family with an interesting past," he said, his voice a low rumble, devoid of the earlier tension.

Relief, so potent it was almost dizzying, washed over Kev. He leaned into Fang, his head resting against the wolfman’s broad chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. "Can you forgive me?" he whispered.

Fang's large hand came up to pet Kev's head, his fingers gently carding through his hair. "Don't let it happen again," he said, his tone firm but with an undercurrent of affection that spoke volumes.

"Do you believe me?" Kev asked, his voice small, almost childlike, his face still pressed against Fang's chest.

Fang held Kev tightly, his chin resting on the top of Kev's head. "There is something odd about you, I know that at least," he said, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. "I don't care... If this is your truth, then who am I to question it? If you're not lying, then nothing will change the fact that you are here now."

"I'm not hiding anything else," Kev said, his voice gaining a little more strength. "I just didn't know how to tell you because it's insane."

"I am sorry, though, Kev," Fang said, his tone shifting, a note of seriousness entering his voice.

Kev pulled back slightly, looking up at Fang in confusion. "Why?"

Fang sighed, his gaze sweeping over the dark, neglected graves before returning to Kev. "You may not want to think about how you arrived," he began, "but others will." He paused, his expression growing grim. "Rex stopped a troublemaker earlier, at the security checkpoint before we left the club grounds. The troublemaker… it was Abe."

Kev's eyes widened. "Abe? The raccoon city enforcer? The one who was with Bryan?"

Fang nodded. "He was trying to tell the security team that the city is interested in you. Apparently, you've shown up on CCTV cameras out in the city with me."

Kev frowned, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. "I haven't done anything wrong, other than smoke a little bit," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "Why do they care about me? You associate with much more dangerous people than me."

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Fang's grip on Kev's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "You're not in any databases, Kev," he explained, his voice grave. "You're a phantom, with no identification, no history they can access. It just gives them another reason to harass us, another angle to exploit."

Kev looked down, a wave of guilt washing over him. "I always seem to be making trouble for you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Fang gently tilted Kev's chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You are just existing," he said, his voice firm but kind. "The city is making trouble.”

Kev, overwhelmed by Fang's unwavering kindness and the sheer strangeness of his own situation, found he had no words. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Fang, a deep, heartfelt kiss that conveyed all the turmoil and gratitude swirling within him. Fang responded with equal intensity, his arms wrapping around Kev, pulling him close. For a long moment, they were lost in the embrace, the neglected graveyard and the distant city forgotten, only the raw connection between them existing in the moonlit clearing.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Fang didn't need to say more, and neither did Kev. The understanding that passed between them was more profound than any words.

Fang grasped Kev's hand, his touch firm and reassuring, and led him back towards the overgrown path where Rex waited. As they approached, the tigerman straightened, his earlier sullenness replaced by an air of watchful anticipation.

"Let's have that talk with Abe tonight," Fang said to Rex, his voice now carrying a steely resolve. "I hope he's awake soon."

Rex grinned, a flash of sharp teeth in the darkness. "We have smelling salts, sir.”

Fang waved a dismissive hand at Rex. "Spare Kev the details. It's been a rough night."

Rex's eyes flicked to Kev, a predatory smirk returning. "Is that what took so long? You were rough on him?"

Kev, his emotions still raw and his nerves frayed, glared back at Rex, the earlier vulnerability hardening into a flash of anger.

Fang growled. "Kev, have a smoke." He gestured towards a dilapidated bench just off the main path, shaded by an ancient oak. "Rex, we need to talk."

Kev, grateful for the reprieve, moved to the bench and lit a cigarette, his hands still trembling slightly. He watched as Fang turned to Rex, his back to Kev, but his voice, though lowered, carried clearly in the stillness of the park.

"Kev... is not who we thought he was," Fang began, his tone devoid of its usual bravado, replaced by a grim seriousness. Rex's ears, which had perked with interest at Fang's summons, now twitched, his head tilting slightly.

"He isn’t the assistant Lanon hired," Fang continued. "He woke up in that room with no memory of how he got there. He doesn't know this city, this world." Fang paused, and Kev could imagine Rex's usual smirk faltering, replaced by a frown of confusion. "He says... he says he's from a place where there are only humans. Where people like us are... fiction."

Rex let out a short, incredulous snort, and Kev saw him glance quickly over his shoulder at him, a flicker of disbelief in his golden eyes.

Fang's voice dropped lower, more intense. "There's no record of him. Lanon's paperwork for the original assistant is in order, but it doesn't explain Kev. No one remembers bringing him in. He's a ghost." Fang's hand gestured vaguely in Kev's direction. "And now, because he's an unknown, because he doesn't exist in any system, the city sees him as a weakness. A way to get to me."

Kev watched as Rex’s posture shifted. The tigerman was no longer leaning casually; he stood straighter, his head angled as he listened intently. The smirk was gone, replaced by a calculating, almost predatory focus, but this time, it wasn't directed at Kev with flirtation. It was the look of a security chief assessing a new, unpredictable variable. Rex’s gaze flicked to Kev again, this time longer, more analytical. He was no doubt weighing the security implications, the potential threat Kev represented, or the leverage he might provide.

"So," Fang concluded, his voice firm, "your priority, even more so now, is the club’s safety. Abe showing up, Bryan trying to snatch him... it's not random. They're probing. And Kev is the point they've chosen to press.”

Rex let out a low growl, his golden eyes narrowing as he looked over at Kev, who was now nervously puffing on his cigarette. "He's dangerous to keep around," Rex stated, his voice a flat, pragmatic assessment.

Fang nodded slowly, his gaze unreadable. "I know."

Rex turned his full attention to Kev, his earlier flirtatious demeanor completely gone, replaced by a sharp, accusatory tone. "Were you going to tell us, human?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Or just wait until you hurt the club? Until your... strangeness brought more trouble to our doorstep?"

Fang growled, a warning rumble in his chest. "Rex."

Kev flinched, drawing his knees up slightly on the bench. "It's insane!" he cried out, his voice thin with desperation. "I didn't want to get thrown into an asylum!"

"At least you'd be safe there!" Rex yelled back, his frustration boiling over.

Kev stared at him, speechless, the bluntness of Rex's retort stealing his breath.

Fang stepped between them, his presence a heavy shield. "Rex, Abe wasn't bluffing," he said, his voice low and intense. "We need to get more out of him. The city is interested."

Rex growled, pacing a short distance away. "You should have let me talk with him instead of knocking him out!"

Fang's voice rose, echoing Rex's frustration. "He was with the rabbit!"

"And they both were with the enforcers!" Rex shot back. "It's a pattern, Fang!"

"And that is for you to deal with!" Fang declared, his authority ringing clear.

Rex whirled back, his fur bristling. "I tried! But you won't let me!" He stalked closer to Fang, his movements agitated.

Rex took a deep, ragged breath, his chest heaving. Then, he exploded. "Fuck you, Fang!" he roared, the sound ripping through the quiet park. "Why the fuck am I not guarding Kev instead of that scrawny eagle?! I would have had this situation figured out by now! I could have had an identity forged for him! We could all tell on that first night that you can't even talk straight around him, and yet you just left yourself open to get bitten!"

Kev, stunned by the ferocity of Rex's outburst, watched as the tigerman stalked towards Fang, his body coiled with a primal rage. Rex stood over Fang, his voice a torrent of pent-up frustration. "You want me to protect what's important to you? Then why don't you let me?! And now that pathetic bird comes out of nowhere, and you have him following your boyfriend around, just because he had one good round in the fighting pit! I would destroy that scrawny eagle!"

The air crackled with tension. Fang remained still, his expression unreadable, letting Rex vent his fury. Finally, when Rex’s heaving breaths were the only sound, Fang spoke, his voice calm, almost eerily so.

"Are you finished?”

Rex's chest heaved, his golden eyes still blazing with a fierce intensity. "Let me fight Talon," he growled, his voice a low, guttural challenge.

Fang met Rex's gaze, his own expression unyielding. "Rex," he said, his voice calm but firm, "Talon is not your equal. He is far beneath you."

A frustrated roar ripped from Rex's throat. "Then why is he guarding Kev and not me?!" he demanded, his voice echoing through the graveyard.

Fang’s voice remained steady, a surprising contrast to Rex's explosive anger. "Rex, I trust Perry to drive my car."

Rex hissed, his ears flattening against his head. "What does that have to do with it?"

Fang took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "Rex, I trust you to run security," he said, his voice resonating with an undeniable authority. "You are responsible for every single person who enters this club. You know every one of your security staff, and all the security staff trust you. You are undefeated." He placed a heavy hand on Rex's shoulder, his grip firm but not aggressive. "I don't want you driving my car... I want you punishing disrespectful customers.”

Rex looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. The raw anger began to recede, leaving behind a flicker of bruised pride.

Fang's voice softened, the sharp edge of command replaced by a more conciliatory tone. "I hired Talon to help you, Rex," he explained. "I wanted to take one thing off your plate. With the mafia deal, all the security changes lately... it's a lot. I never meant to offend you. I wanted to help you."

He paused, his gaze still fixed on Rex. "If something happens to Kev on Talon's watch," Fang continued, his voice low and serious, "it will be my own fault for hiring Talon. I could not put that pressure on you, Rex. Not for this."

Rex remained silent for a moment, then he slowly met Fang's gaze. "Next time you want to help me," he said, his voice rough but less aggressive, "just ask. I need to know what I'm supposed to protect."

Fang nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I know you work hard, Rex," he said, his voice regaining some of its earlier warmth. He then reached out his hand towards Kev, a silent invitation.

Kev took Fang’s offered hand, his fingers lacing with the wolfman’s. The earlier emotional storm had passed, leaving a strange calm in its wake. As they walked back through the park, Rex now a few paces ahead of them, his posture still stiff but with less overt aggression, Kev’s mind replayed the intense conversation between Fang and his head of security.

Fang must trust Rex a lot, Kev thought, his gaze drifting to the tigerman’s broad back. Rex's outburst, his raw frustration, hadn't been about insubordination, not really. It had been about a perceived slight, a feeling of being undervalued, of his protective capabilities being overlooked. He seemed genuinely, deeply upset about not being Kev's primary bodyguard.

A small, involuntary shiver ran down Kev's spine at that thought, and he silently thanked Fang for choosing someone other than Rex for the more intimate security role. While Talon was intense, Rex’s predatory focus on Kev was… unsettling in a different, more personal way.

He was also struck by Fang’s reaction, or lack thereof. Rex had yelled at Fang, had challenged him, and Fang, while initially furious, hadn’t lost control. He’d reasoned with Rex, explained his decision, even offered a form of apology. How long has Rex been working for Fang? Kev wondered. Their dynamic was clearly complex, built on years of shared history, loyalty, and a surprising degree of mutual respect, even amidst the explosive arguments.

As they neared the club road, Kev noticed a distinct change in their surroundings. The overgrown weeds gave way to more manicured patches of grass. The flickering and broken lampposts were replaced by steadily glowing ones. The overflowing trash cans were now neatly contained, the litter cleared from the pathways. It was as if they were stepping back into a different, more orderly section of the park, the disrepair of the deeper woods a forgotten anomaly. The contrast was stark, and Kev couldn't help but wonder if the state of the graveyard was a deliberate, targeted neglect by the city, rather than a general lack of upkeep.

Fang’s pace suddenly slowed, his head snapping up, ears swiveling. Kev, still holding his hand, felt the wolfman tense. Up ahead, near where Perry was parked, a cacophony of rough laughter and taunting yells pierced the night air. Kev strained his eyes in the darkness but could only make out indistinct, shifting shapes around the dark form of the car.

Then, a sharp, agonized hoot cut through the noise, followed by a sickening thud.

"Perry!" Fang roared, his voice a furious thunderclap, and he began to stride forward, his leisurely pace abandoned.

The yelling and laughing intensified. As they drew closer, Kev could now see a group of about five or six beastmen – the same hyena from earlier was distinctly visible, his cackling laugh unmistakable – clustered around Fang's car.

Rex, who had been walking slightly behind, moved with astonishing speed, a tawny blur rushing past. He reached Fang just as the wolfman was about to charge into the fray.

"Boss, no," Rex growled, his voice low and urgent, placing a restraining hand on Fang's arm. "This is beneath you. Let me handle it." Without waiting for a reply, Rex continued forward, his body language shifting from tense guard to coiled predator.

As Rex approached the group, Kev’s blood ran cold. Curled up on the ground beside the car, his feathers dirtied and one wing bent at an unnatural angle, was Perry. The owl man let out a soft, pained whimper.

The hyena spotted Rex approaching, his earlier bravado amplified by the presence of his pack. "Well, well, look who it is!" he sneered, his packmates chuckling and spreading out, forming a loose, menacing circle around Rex. "Your owner finally let you off your leash?"

The others laughed, jostling each other, their eyes gleaming with malice in the dim light. They began to close in on Rex, their movements confident, predatory.

Fang pulled Kev close, his arm a band of steel around his shoulders. "Watch," he said, his voice low.

Kev, his heart hammering, could only nod, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.

Rex didn’t waste time with words. The instant the hyena finished his taunt, Rex exploded into motion. It wasn't the lumbering charge of a brute, but the swift, lethal grace of a true apex predator. He lunged, not at the hyena first, but at a burly boar-man who was closest, his right arm a blur as his claws, gleaming like polished daggers, raked across the boar’s snout. Blood sprayed, and the boar shrieked, stumbling back, clutching his face.

Before the others could fully react, Rex spun, his powerful legs propelling him in a low, evasive crouch under a wild swing from a lanky wolf. He came up inside the wolf’s guard, and Kev heard a sickening crunch as Rex’s elbow connected with the wolf’s ribs. Another yelp of pain.

The hyena, enraged, charged from the side. Rex met him with a terrifying agility, sidestepping the clumsy attack and delivering a brutal, open-palmed strike to the hyena’s temple with his left hand. The hyena staggered, his eyes glazing over. Rex didn't hesitate. His right hand, claws extended, flashed out again, leaving four deep, crimson gashes down the hyena’s chest. The hyena howled, collapsing to his knees.

Rex was a whirlwind of controlled fury. His movements were economical, each strike precise and devastating. He wasn't just brawling; he was fighting, using his size, speed, and natural weaponry with a terrifying efficiency. Claws tore at flesh, not haphazardly, but targeting vulnerable points – faces, limbs, exposed flanks. His blocks were solid, turning aside clumsy punches and kicks, and his counters were immediate and brutal. Kev saw him duck under a blow from a badger-like creature, then pivot, his powerful tail whipping around to trip another attacker, sending him sprawling.

It was bloody. Kev winced as claws connected, as fur flew, as pained snarls and whimpers filled the air. Yet, amidst the brutality, there was a strange, almost terrifying grace to Rex’s movements. He flowed like water, then struck like lightning. He took hits too – a glancing blow to his side, a kick to his leg – but he absorbed them with a growl, his focus never wavering.

Kev watched, mesmerized and horrified. Rex was systematically dismantling the group, his skill undeniable. He wasn't just strong; he was a highly trained, incredibly effective fighter, turning their numbers against them, using their aggression to create openings. One by one, the attackers fell, either incapacitated by pain or scrambling to get away from the furious tiger.

The last two fighters, a wiry jackal and the badger creature Rex had tripped, saw their packmates fall, their bravado evaporating like mist in the morning sun. With panicked yelps, they turned and fled, disappearing back into the shadowy depths of the park.

Rex didn't pursue them. He stalked over to the kneeling, whimpering hyena and delivered a swift, contemptuous kick to his ribs. "Just some punks," he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He then turned his attention to Perry, who was still curled on the ground, moaning softly.

Kev watched, surprised, as Rex's demeanor shifted. The raw fury of the fight was replaced by a focused professionalism. He knelt beside Perry, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he helped the injured owl man into a sitting position. "Easy, birdy," Rex murmured, his voice losing its harsh edge. He carefully examined Perry’s injured wing, his brow furrowed in concentration. Perry hissed in pain as Rex prodded the broken bone.

Kev was struck by the contrast. Moments ago, Rex had been a whirlwind of claws and fury, a brutal instrument of violence. Now, he was assessing Perry's injuries with a calm, practiced efficiency, his movements surprisingly deft as he used a strip of cloth torn from one of the fallen attacker's shirts to create a makeshift sling for Perry's wing. It was a side of Rex Kev hadn't seen before, a glimpse of the skilled professional beneath the aggressive exterior.

Fang, his own anger still simmering, surveyed the remaining thugs who lay moaning or trying to crawl away. "If you don't want to die, you better leave," he snarled, his voice a chilling promise. The injured beastmen, terror etched on their faces, scrambled to their feet and hobbled off into the darkness, leaving behind only the scent of blood and fear.

Rex carefully helped Perry to his feet, supporting his weight. "His wing's definitely broken," Rex announced, his gaze meeting Fang's. "He needs to see Vlad, now." He then guided the injured owl man towards the car, carefully settling him into the backseat.

Fang let out another angry howl, his frustration and rage still palpable. Kev, sensing the wolfman was on the verge of another outburst, gently took his arm. "Fang," he said softly, "let's get Perry taken care of." He led the still-fuming wolfman to the car.

Rex, without a word, slid into the driver's seat, his earlier defiance forgotten in the face of the immediate crisis. The engine roared to life, and the car sped back towards the club, the urgency of the situation overriding any lingering animosity.

"Perry, what happened?" Fang growled, his voice tight with anger as the car sped towards the club.

Perry, cradling his injured wing, wheezed, his voice strained. "They... they were trying to mess with your car, boss. Said it looked expensive. Wanted me to give them the keys."

"Fucking punks," Fang snarled, his fist clenching. "The park has turned into a cesspit in my absence."

They screeched to a halt at the security checkpoint. The panther woman on duty looked surprised to see Rex behind the wheel, her eyes widening slightly.

"Emergency," Rex barked, his voice all business. "Send an orange alert and get a crew to get this car inspected. I'm driving up to the entrance."

Without waiting for a response, Rex slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward and speeding up the winding entrance road to the club.

Kev felt a surge of relief that they didn't have to stop for the usual security protocols, the metal detectors and questioning. Perry looked truly awful. His left eye was already swelling shut, turning a nasty shade of purple, and the way his wing hung limply at his side, despite Rex’s makeshift sling, spoke of a serious break. Small trickles of blood oozed from several cuts on his face and head, staining his ruffled feathers. The owl man was clearly in a lot of pain, his breathing shallow and raspy. Every bump in the road seemed to send a fresh wave of agony through him, and Kev could only imagine how much worse a delay at the checkpoint would have been.

Rex pulled the car to a screeching halt directly in front of the club's main entrance. The once-bustling parking lot was now significantly quieter, most of the patrons having already disappeared inside to begin their night of revelry.

Tessa, the opossum valet woman, looked up from her podium, her eyes widening in shock as Rex emerged from the driver's seat and carefully helped the injured Perry up the wide stone steps. The sight of the usually dapper owl man, now battered and bleeding, clearly startled her.

"Security will be up for the car shortly," Rex snapped, his voice curt and authoritative. He tossed the car keys towards Tessa, who fumbled for a moment before catching them. Fang and Kev followed close behind, their expressions grim. The usual playful banter and charming smiles were absent, replaced by a focused urgency as they hurried Perry inside.

They hurried through the dimly lit entrance hall, the usual throb of music and laughter from the main club floor now carrying an undercurrent of something else – raised voices, a distinct commotion. As they passed the wide archway leading into the main bar, the sound of yelling became undeniable.

Rex, still supporting the groaning Perry, glanced back at Fang, his golden eyes questioning.

Fang’s jaw tightened. "Take Perry to Vlad, now," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I will deal with this."

Rex nodded curtly, his focus immediately shifting. He carefully guided the injured owl man towards the east wing, his movements surprisingly gentle for such a large and formidable creature.

Fang then turned, his hand resting on Kev’s back, and steered him towards the source of the commotion in the main bar. As they stepped into the familiar, smoky atmosphere, Kev’s eyes widened. In the center of a hastily cleared space near the bar, Horns and Dale were locked in a struggle. It wasn't a fight, not in the brutal way Rex had dispatched the thugs, but a grappling match, two massive forms straining against each other. Dale held Horns in a clumsy headlock, and the moose was trying to leverage his powerful legs to break free, his face flushed and his usual dopey grin. Patrons had formed a loose circle around them, their expressions a mixture of shock, amusement, and apprehension. The music had faltered, Asmodeus and his band momentarily silenced by the unexpected spectacle.

"Let me go!" Horns roared, his voice a desperate bellow as he struggled against Dale's iron grip.

"No way, buddy!" Dale shouted back, his own voice strained with exertion. "You're staying right here!"

Fang pushed through the throng of onlookers, his presence immediately commanding attention. "What the hell are you two doing?!" he yelled, his voice a thunderous crack that momentarily silenced the chaotic scene.

Horns, his face flushed and his eyes wild, looked over at Fang, his chest heaving. "It's my day off!" he yelled, his voice raw with indignation. "And this horse is trying to boss me around!"

Dale, still focused on subduing the massive moose, gritted his teeth. "Calm down, Horns!" he urged, his voice strained.

"You calm down!" Horns retorted, redoubling his efforts to break free.

With a sudden surge of strength, Dale shoved Horns away. The moose stumbled back, his antlers nearly catching on a low-hanging chandelier. Dale, wincing in pain, clutched his own shoulder, his face contorted in a grimace.

Horns, however, quickly regained his footing. He stood up, his massive frame looming over Dale, his earlier desperation replaced by a simmering rage. "That wasn't very nice," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

"Horns! Look at me!" Fang yelled, his voice cutting through the tension, sharp and authoritative.

Horns finally tore his gaze away from Dale and looked over at Fang. Kev felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He'd only ever known Horns as a gentle giant, his usual demeanor a comforting blend of jovial warmth and laid-back calm. But the mooseman standing before him now was a different creature entirely.

His usually soft, brown eyes were narrowed and bloodshot, blazing with an unfamiliar fury. The fur on his massive neck and shoulders bristled, making him appear even larger, more imposing. His nostrils flared with each ragged breath, and a low, guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, a primal sound that sent shivers down Kev's spine. His impressive rack of antlers, usually a symbol of quiet dignity, now seemed like a formidable weapon, sharp tines glinting menacingly in the dim light of the bar. The easygoing slouch was gone, replaced by a rigid tension that radiated pure, unadulterated rage.

"I looked at you," Horns said, his voice a harsh rasp, devoid of its usual warmth. "I'm leaving now." He turned, his movements stiff and deliberate, and began to walk away from the confrontation.

"Don't be sour just because I cut you off!" Dale yelled after him, his own anger still evident.

Horns spun back around, his voice a thunderous bellow that shook the chandeliers. "It's my day off!"

Dale looked over at Fang, his expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Day off or not, I know Horns," he said, his voice still raised. "He had enough. Way too much, if you ask me."

"Shut up!" Horns roared, taking a menacing step towards Dale.

"Horns! Enough!" Fang's voice cracked like a whip, his own anger finally erupting. "Go up to my office. Now. I need to have a word with you."

Horns whirled to face Fang, his massive chest heaving, his eyes still burning with fury. "No!" he bellowed, the word a defiant challenge that hung heavy in the suddenly silent bar.

Fang's tail went rigid, shooting straight out behind him. His lips peeled back, baring a terrifying array of sharp, white teeth. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his throat, a sound that promised swift and brutal retribution.

Kev’s heart hammered against his ribs. He looked frantically between Horns and Fang. They had always been so easygoing, so friendly in front of him. Now, they looked like two cornered beasts, seconds away from tearing each other apart. The air crackled with a terrifying, primal energy.

Fang took a menacing step forward, his body low and coiled, ready to spring.

"Horns!" Kev yelled, his voice surprisingly loud and steady in the sudden hush. "You said you'd walk me back to my room tonight!"

Both Fang and Horns froze, their heads snapping towards Kev. Horns, his eyes still blazing with anger, looked utterly confused. "Did I?" he mumbled, his brow furrowed.

Fang let out a low, incredulous sound. "What?"

Kev didn't hesitate. He quickly walked up to Horns, standing on his tiptoes to get closer to the massive mooseman's ear. He could smell the sharp tang of alcohol on Horns's breath, a scent that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Horns was still radiating fury, his body a taut spring of aggression.

Kev whispered loudly, his voice urgent, "There's still some of that oil left. Let's get out of here. It's too loud anyways."

At the mention of the potent weed oil, a subtle shift occurred in Horns's demeanor. The fiery rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of something softer, more muddled. "It is kind of loud in here," Horns rumbled, his voice losing some of its harsh edge. He glanced around at the ring of patrons still staring at them. "And all these people are looking at me. It's… creeping me out."

Kev nodded emphatically. "Yeah," he agreed. "And I got some bagels still, I think."

A faint, almost dopey smile touched Horns's lips. "I like bagels," he mumbled.

Kev looked back at Fang, his expression a mixture of amusement at Horns's sudden shift and a longing, apologetic look for the wolfman.

Fang’s fur, which had been bristling, slowly began to settle. His tail, no longer rigid, twitched once, then relaxed. He glanced at Dale, who was watching the scene with a bewildered expression, then his gaze returned to Kev, the anger in his eyes softening into something akin to weary affection.

"Good night, my love," Fang said, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle after the earlier outburst. "Do not forget, this is your home." He then turned and walked over to Dale, presumably to address the situation.

Kev looked back at Horns, who was now swaying slightly on his feet. "Let's go," Kev said, taking the mooseman's massive arm and gently guiding him towards the exit.

Kev carefully guided the still-grumbling, slightly unsteady Horns out of the bar and towards the grand staircase. The mooseman was undeniably drunk, his usual lumbering gait now a more pronounced sway. Kev kept a firm hold on his arm, offering a steadying presence as they ascended the steps.

Reaching his apartment, Kev fumbled slightly with the keys before unlocking the door. Horns immediately stumbled towards the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan of relief. "Oh man," he sighed, his voice thick and slurred. "It's much better up here." He looked around the dark living room, his eyes unfocused but appreciative.

Kev went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of water. "Sorry, I don't have anything other than coffee, tea, or water," he said, handing the glass to Horns.

Horns took the water and drank it down quickly, his thirst apparently immense. Kev then went to his bedroom and retrieved the water pipe and the bag of weed oil from the safe. He returned to the living room and placed them on the coffee table in front of Horns.

"Here you go," Kev said, gesturing towards the offering.

Horns’s eyes, though still hazy, lit up at the sight. He fumbled with the oil and the pipe, his large hands clumsy with intoxication. Kev lit a cigarette, leaning back against the armchair,watching as Horns finally managed to load the pipe and take a long, deep hit.

As Horns exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his usual blissful, dopey smile spread across his face. Kev, meanwhile, headed back to the kitchen and began toasting bagels, the familiar scent of warm bread filling the apartment.

"So," Kev asked casually, flipping a bagel in the pan, "how was dancing?”

Horns let out a long, contented sigh, the smoke mingling with the scent of toasting bagels. "Dancing was amazing," he declared, his voice still thick but now infused with a dreamy enthusiasm. "Everyone was so… happy. Music was good. Felt great to just… move."

Kev laughed, flipping another bagel. "That's good, Horns. You won't be able to say your day off was all bad then."

Horns grumbled, his blissful expression faltering slightly. "Dale cut me off," he muttered, his gaze drifting towards the floor.

Kev brought over a plate with a toasted bagel and another glass of water. "You seem a bit drunk, if I'm being honest," he said gently, placing the offerings on the coffee table.

Horns glared at Kev, a flash of his earlier belligerence returning, but it quickly faded. "Yes," he admitted with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I am." He took another long hit from the water pipe, his eyes closing in momentary bliss.

He then reached for the bagel, groaning with satisfaction as he took a large bite. "Thank you," he mumbled around a mouthful of bread, his eyes still hazy but now filled with a genuine gratitude.

Kev smiled, settling back into the armchair. "You're free to crash on the couch again," he offered.

Horns didn't need to be told twice. He lay down, his massive frame overflowing the small sofa, half a bagel still sticking out of his mouth as he chewed slowly, his eyes already drifting shut.

Kev lit one of the joints Horns had rolled earlier, taking a slow, thoughtful drag. The player piano was silent, and the only sounds were Horns's rhythmic, heavy breathing and the distant, muffled thrum of the club below. "It was a wild night, Horns," Kev said softly, more to himself than to the sleeping moose, the smoke curling towards the ceiling in the quiet apartment.

Kev looked around the apartment. The only light came from the moon filtering through the windows and the dying embers of his joint. He realized he hadn't even bothered to light a candle or a lantern since Horns had arrived. The darkness, usually comforting, now felt a little oppressive, amplifying the strangeness of his thoughts.

With a sigh, he got up and locked the front door, the metallic click echoing in the sudden silence. He then padded to the bathroom, the cool tiles a contrast to the warmth of the living room. After a quick wash, he retreated to his bedroom.

He slid into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. His mind, still hazy from the oil and the joint, replayed the earlier conversation with Fang in the graveyard. Telling him the truth... It had been terrifying, a colossal weight lifted, yet a new, more insidious fear had taken its place. Fang had been surprisingly understanding, even kind, but what if that changed? What if the full implications of Kev being from… somewhere else… truly sank in?

A cold dread snaked through him. He thought of labs, of scientists, of being a specimen. He hoped he wouldn't be taken and dissected, his body picked apart to understand the mystery of his arrival. The thought was absurd, something out of a B-grade sci-fi movie, yet in this world where beastmen were real and magic might as well be, it didn't feel entirely impossible.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the unsettling images. Fang wouldn't let that happen, a small voice in his head insisted. But the fear lingered, a cold knot in his stomach. He curled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around him, and eventually, Kev fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams a chaotic jumble of dark forests, gleaming scalpels, and Fang's unreadable amber eyes.