The air smelled sterile and cold.
It was barely dawn when the knock came. Not that I'd slept. The bed they gave me was clean, the sheets crisp—but rest wouldn't come. Not after what they'd made me do.
The woman from yesterday was back, same tight braids, same calm swagger. She didn't say much—just motioned for me to follow.
We moved through corridors too clean to trust, lined with steel doors and retina scanners. Not a speck of dust, not a smudge on the floor. This wasn't a gang—it was a machine.
"This," she said casually, "is the south wing. Storage. Armory. Private suites."
"Private?" I echoed.
"Some clients like to stay over. We host all sorts."
I didn't ask what sorts.
She pointed out weapons lockers, secure cells, medical bays—each one more high-tech than the last. No graffiti. No grit. Just smooth, quiet power.
The deeper we went, the colder it got.
"Come on," she said. "Time to show you what we're really about."
We took another elevator. Down again.
The lights dimmed as we descended, switching from warm white to sterile blue. When the doors opened, it hit me immediately.
The scent.
Not blood. Not sweat. Something stranger. Something off.
I followed her down a corridor lined with reinforced glass panels.
Behind each one: cages.
And in each cage—
Hybrids.
Not werewolves. Not even close.
Some had feline eyes and furred arms. Others had tails or claws or long, webbed fingers. I saw one with shimmering scales running up her spine and gills fluttering at her neck. Another had ears like a fox and skin patterned in soft russet fur.
They were beautiful.
Horribly, painfully beautiful.
Not fully human. Not fully animal. Trapped in between.
They watched me with sharp eyes. Curious. Tired. Hungry in ways I couldn't name.
I stopped walking.
"What is this?" I asked.
The woman smiled, too casual. "This is the lab."
"This isn't a lab. It's a prison."
"It's business," she corrected. "The higher-ups like pretty things. Useful things. We make them."
I took a step back. "These are people."
"They're assets."
I stared at a boy no older than sixteen, his skin mottled with leopard spots, his feet shaped like padded paws. He didn't flinch when he met my gaze.
He just looked sad.
"Rheaaa…" Nyx whispered, uneasy. "We shouldn't be here."
"I didn't sign up for this."
"You signed," the woman said. "You're in. And this—this is just one part of it."
"Why show me?"
"Because you're trusted now."
A lie.
Because they wanted to see how much I could stomach.
I turned sharply. "What are they for?"
"Depends. Some are trained for tracking. Some for fighting. A few—well." She shrugged. "Some are entertainment."
My stomach twisted.
Her voice dropped lower, almost fond. "They've been working on something new. An omega wolf hybrid—completely custom. Genetically engineered to be the perfect plaything for our Supreme. Strong, submissive, stunning. Not ready yet, but when he is…"
She trailed off, smiling like it was a love story.
I felt sick.
"Where is he?" I asked, the words coming out colder than I meant.
"Not here," she replied. "Somewhere… safer. More private. But when he's done, you'll see. He'll put the rest of these freaks to shame."
I couldn't speak.
The woman checked her comm and tilted her head.
"That's all for now. You've got the rest of the morning free. Lunch is at noon. You'll get your assignment after that."
I nodded mutely and turned to leave.
As I walked back to the elevator, I felt every pair of hybrid eyes follow me. Not pleading. Not begging.
Just watching.
And in that silence, one thing became clear.
I hadn't joined a gang.
I'd walked into a nightmare.
And there was no walking out.