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I came back to consciousness drowning. At least, that’s what my body believed—lungs burning, muscles spasming against the thick, viscous liquid that filled the containment chamber.

My claws scraped against the transparent walls, leaving faint scratches in their wake as my mind struggled to separate reality from the dream that had awakened me.

Their dream. The dream of union that wasn’t meant for me to witness, yet had pulled me from my artificial slumber like a hook through water.

The respirator mask clung to my face, forcing oxygen-rich fluid into my lungs with mechanical precision.

My body remembered its function even as my mind rebelled against it.

How long had I been suspended? Months? Years?

The chronometers on my containment unit had long since failed, their displays cracked and dark.

I blinked, pushing against the haze of sedatives still coursing through my system.

The laboratory around me was bathed in the dim blue glow of emergency lighting—the main power had failed, leaving only the essential systems running on backup generators.

Dust coated the abandoned consoles. Silence pressed against the walls like a physical force.

But I wasn’t truly awake because of system failures or power fluctuations.

It was the dream.

I had seen them. Felt them. Their passion had burned through the chemical cocktail designed to keep me docile, scorching away the artificial sleep like morning sun on fog.

The memory of it lingered, sharp and vivid—their bodies entwined, her soft curves against his powerful frame, the sounds they made as they claimed each other.

And I had only been able to watch.

A voyeur to their unity. An intruder in a sacred moment.

The pain of it twisted in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar. I had no right to such feelings. Creatures like me weren’t designed for emotional attachments. We were weapons, nothing more.

My containment unit gave a low, warning beep as my vitals spiked.

The suspension fluid began to drain, a programmed response to my increased heart rate and neural activity.

The liquid level dropped past my shoulders, my chest, my waist. As the fluid receded, gravity reclaimed me, my muscles protesting as they took on my full weight for the first time in. ..however long I’d been here.

The respirator detached with a wet, sucking sound, leaving me gasping as my lungs expelled the oxygenated fluid.

I coughed violently, the liquid splattering against the bottom of the chamber, my throat raw with the effort.

Each breath burned as air replaced fluid.

My claws dug into the soft material beneath me as I fought for control.

When the last of the suspension fluid had drained, the containment door slid open with a soft hiss. I stumbled out, my legs unsteady, my tail lashing for balance as I collapsed onto the cold metal floor. The chill against my bare skin was shocking after the regulated temperature of the suspension.

The scars that mapped my body caught the blue emergency lights, silvery against my darker fur.

Unlike Zehn’s golden pelt, mine was charcoal gray, striped with black—one of many modifications made to the original Rodinian template.

My claws were longer, sharper. My muscle density greater. My senses more acute.

A perfect hunter. A flawless killer.

Subject Khaaz. Asset K-7. The culmination of genetic manipulation spanning twelve species.

I pushed myself upright, shaking off the lingering weakness.

The room swam before me, my vision adjusting to the dim light.

The laboratory was vast, filled with equipment I recognized all too well—genetic sequencers, molecular assemblers, neural mapping arrays.

The tools that had created me. Had shaped me from disparate genetic fragments into something new. Something dangerous.

My earliest memories were of pain. Of being dissected and reassembled. Of scientists in sterile suits observing from behind protective barriers as they tested my reflexes, my strength, my killing efficiency. They spoke of me as a breakthrough, a triumph of bioengineering. Never as a living being.

I had been their perfect weapon, right up until I wasn’t.

Until they realized I could think for myself.

I stumbled toward the nearest terminal, leaving wet footprints across the dusty floor.

The console activated at my touch, though the display flickered weakly, starved for power.

I navigated through the system with practiced ease, searching for data on how much time had passed since the facility had been abandoned.

The timestamp on the last system entry made my blood run cold.

Fifteen years.

I had been suspended, forgotten, for fifteen years.

The facility evacuation log showed a hasty departure—not planned, but forced. Something had gone wrong. The details were fragmented, corrupted by time and system degradation. But the outcome was clear: the scientists had fled, leaving their work—leaving me—behind.

But not completely abandoned. The automated security systems still ran on minimal power. The defensive protocols remained active. And my containment unit had maintained its function until...until the dream had broken through.

The dream that wasn’t mine.

I closed my eyes, the images flooding back with painful clarity.

Zehn and the human female—Everly. Her name had echoed in their shared consciousness.

I had felt Zehn’s possessive claim, had experienced the echo of his pleasure as he’d taken her.

And I had felt her surrender, her acceptance, her joy.

It was beautiful. Terrifying. Overwhelming.

And I had no place in it.

I was an abomination. A thing cobbled together from genetic scraps. The Rodinian DNA that formed my base template gave me the form, the instincts, but not the soul. Not the right.

Yet I had been there, witnessing their unity. And that meant something had changed. Something fundamental in my genetic makeup had shifted during my long suspension.

I moved through the laboratory, gathering supplies. Clothing first—a simple utility jumpsuit that hung from a hook near the decontamination chamber. Then weapons—a plasma knife from a forgotten workstation, a disruptor pistol from an emergency security locker with a broken lock.

My tail flicked with agitation as I worked. The dream still burned in my mind, impossible to dismiss. Why had I been included? Why now, after all this time?

The answer came as I passed a blank wall that slid open at my approach. Hidden, even in this hidden place. A secondary lab, smaller than the main facility. More specialized.

More terrible.

The scent hit me first—sharp and metallic beneath the dust. Old blood. My blood, spilled during countless procedures. The walls were lined with display screens, most dark now, but a few still weakly glowing. They showed genetic maps, splicing projections, neural pathway analyses.

And at the center of the room: a second containment unit. Empty, but prepped. Waiting.

Not for me.

For her.

The data still displayed on the active screens told the story. The scientists had been creating me for a purpose beyond mere destruction. They had engineered me to be a lure. A genetic beacon for Rodinian fate-mates.

I was designed to find her. To bring her back to this place. To use the sacred mating bond of the Rodinians as a weapon.

Because a human with compatible genetic markers—compatible with me—would be the perfect vessel for the next phase of their experiments. A breeding program. A new generation of weapons, born rather than built.

My stomach twisted with revulsion. The dream made sense now. It had never been meant for me to share, but my spliced Rodinian DNA had connected me to their unity as an observer. A witness. A warning.

I knew what I had to do.

I had to find her before anyone else realized what was happening.

Before anyone tracking the old frequencies detected the unity broadcast and came to investigate.

The scientists who had created me might be gone, but there would be others— governments, cartels, private military contractors—who would kill to acquire their research. To acquire me.

And to acquire her.

I gathered the remaining supplies quickly now, purpose driving my movements.

Food packs. Water purification tablets. A med-kit with regenerative patches.

I found a tattered scientific journal, its pages filled with handwritten notes about genetic stability in cross-species bonding.

I stuffed it into my pack. Knowledge was power, and I needed every advantage.

As I worked, I tried not to think about what it would mean to see them together. To stand before Zehn—a pure Rodinian Reaper—and the woman who was his by cosmic right. Would he see me for what I was? A twisted reflection, a corruption of his proud lineage?

Would she look at me with fear? With disgust?

It shouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Their safety—her safety—was more important than my own confused feelings.

I checked the facility’s external sensors, scanning for signs of activity beyond the reinforced walls. The jungle surrounding the black site teemed with life, but nothing humanoid. Nothing sentient. Not yet.

But the site had begun broadcasting the moment I awoke. A low-level ping, designed to alert the original operators that their asset had become active. It was only a matter of time before someone intercepted it. Before they came.

I had to reach Everly first. Had to warn them both.

Before leaving, I accessed the main terminal one last time, initiating a cascading system failure.

Lights flickered as power diverted to the self-destruct sequence.

It wasn’t enough to destroy the facility completely—the designers had been too thorough for that—but it would buy time. Would bury the worst of the evidence.

The terminal counted down. Twenty minutes until detonation.

I shouldered my makeshift pack and headed for the emergency exit tunnel. The door protested, grinding against years of disuse, but yielded to my enhanced strength. Beyond lay darkness—a long, narrow passage that would lead me to the surface, away from the immediate blast radius.

As I stepped into the tunnel, I allowed myself one final thought about the dream. About the connection I had felt, however uninvited, to both of them. About the way their passion had called to something buried deep within my engineered soul.

I wanted that. Wanted to be part of it.

But what I wanted didn’t matter. Only her safety mattered now. Only protecting them both from what would come hunting.

I moved silently through the darkness, my enhanced vision cutting through the gloom. The air grew fresher as I approached the exit, carrying scents of the jungle beyond—rich soil, exotic flora, the musk of creatures I would soon hunt for sustenance.

And somewhere, carried on that same breeze, her scent. Faint but unmistakable. The human female who had been chosen by fate to bond with a Rodinian warrior—and who had, unknowingly, awakened a forgotten weapon designed to find her.

I would reach her before the others came. I would warn them of the danger. I would protect her, even from myself if necessary.

The tunnel ended at a concealed hatch, overgrown with vegetation. I pushed through, emerging into violet twilight. The jungle stretched before me, vast and wild. Behind me, buried in the earth, the countdown continued. Soon, the evidence of my creation would be rubble and ash.

But not all of it. Never all of it. Because I still existed.

I lifted my head, testing the air, searching for her scent trail. It was there—subtle but distinct. Leading north, away from the facility.

Away from the past that had created me.

Toward a future I couldn’t predict but was determined to safeguard.

I moved into the jungle, my body adapting to its freedom, my senses sharpening with each step. The hunter awakened fully now, instincts honed by both nature and deliberate design guiding my path.

I would find her.

I would protect her.

Even if it meant watching from the shadows while she found happiness with another.