The shelter was a chaotic mess of sound.

Somewhere near the front lobby, children were shrieking with laughter while excited voices bounced off the high ceilings, bleeding into the endless drone of sliding cage doors, barking demi-humans, and stressed workers trying to corral the crowd. Bright banners stretched across the walls, advertising "Open Adoption Day" in cheerful, primary colors that felt like a slap in the face to Cody.

He stayed exactly where he always stayed—in the furthest enclosure at the very back of the hall, tucked away from the pretty, eager-to-please demi-humans people actually came to see.

His space was twice the size of the others. Not out of generosity, but for safety. Thick, reinforced glass sealed him in instead of standard bars, and the wall beside his door was practically plastered in red warning labels.

FORMER UNDERGROUND PIT FIGHTER. HIGH-RISK DEMI-HUMAN. DO NOT PROVOKE. ADOPTION NOT RECOMMENDED.

Cody didn’t even look at them anymore. They were just part of the architecture now.

The leopard demi-human was slouched against the concrete back wall, one long arm draped lazily over his propped-up knee while his spotted tail flicked a slow, rhythmic beat against the floor. An oversized black hoodie hid most of his heavy frame, but it did nothing to cover the thick ropey scars tracing his throat and hands. Or the tattoos. Heavy, dark spots bled from the sides of his neck down both arms, winding through the scarred tissue like a second skin under the harsh fluorescent lights.

People stared. They always stared. But never for very long.

A couple drifted past, slowing down just enough to peek in. The woman’s eyes went wide the second she read the text on his file. She instantly grabbed her partner’s elbow, pulling him along a little faster.

Then a family stopped. A little boy looked fascinated for all of three seconds before his dad spotted the red warnings and physically shoved the kid behind his back.

Cody looked away before they could even turn on their heels. Watching the rejection happen in real-time got old fast.

His ears twitched sharply as a loud cheer erupted down the hall—some ecstatic fox demi-human greeting a match. Staff members bustled past his glass, flashing practiced, enthusiastic smiles as they led families around. Nobody looked at Cody. Nobody ever did.

Honestly? He preferred it. It saved him the hassle of false hope. It meant he didn’t have to watch another person look at him like he was a live bomb waiting for a reason to go off.

The shelter staff tried to act professional, but Cody wasn't blind. He noticed the slight tremor in their hands when they slid his food through the slot. He saw how they avoided sudden movements around him, and he definitely saw the emergency tranquilizer kits hooked to their belts "just in case."

He didn’t even blame them. The underground pits had broken him long before the shelter pulled him out. In those cages, violence wasn't a choice; it was breathing. Fight. Kill. Obey. Repeat. The memory of it felt like blood that had stained too deep into his skin to ever truly wash out.

Leaning his head back against the cold concrete, Cody shut his eyes.

Another noisy crowd shuffled past. Another pair of eyes lingered. Another footstep faded away.

Then—

His left ear spiked.

Footsteps stopped. Not a hesitation. Not a slow-down. A dead halt.

Cody’s blue eyes opened slowly, shifting toward the front of the enclosure.

A woman was standing right there on the other side of the glass. She wasn't looking at the warning labels. She wasn't skimming the incident reports. She was just looking straight at him.

Cody’s face didn't change, but his tail went completely still behind him.

Almost on cue, a shelter worker scurried over, her face tight with polite panic. "Ah—hi there! Are you interested in him?" she asked, her voice tight. "Cody is... well, he’s a very special case."

The warning under her breath was hard to miss.

"He’s really not recommended for first-time owners," the worker continued, already trying to subtly step between the woman and the glass. "We actually have some wonderful, much calmer options today! There’s a lovely golden retriever hybrid over in the east wing, and a rabbit demi-human upstairs who is just incredibly affectionate—"

Cody looked down at his own sneakers.

The usual routine. Direct them somewhere safer. Somewhere easier. Somewhere that wasn't ruined.

His jaw tightened, his claws digging a fraction of an inch into the concrete floor.

But the worker kept talking, and the woman didn't move.

That was what made him look back up. Despite the nervous sales pitch, her eyes hadn't drifted from him. She stayed rooted to the spot, completely ignoring the worker’s attempts to nudge her toward the exit.

Something uncomfortable shifted in Cody’s chest. A tiny, dangerous spark of hope.

His ears flattened. Stupid, he told himself. Nobody picks you. Not after they find out what you are. Not after they hear what you've done.

Yet, his body moved anyway.

Slowly, Cody pushed himself up from the floor. The sudden movement made the shelter worker instantly freeze, her hand moving an inch closer to her belt.

He ignored her, crossing the floor with heavy, completely silent steps until he was standing right at the glass barrier. Up close, the reality of him was impossible to hide—the jagged lines across his collarbone, the busted knuckles that had healed crooked, the sheer size of him. But if she looked past the rough edges, there was a profound, heavy exhaustion buried in his eyes. He looked like someone who had spent his entire life just trying to survive the next five minutes.

He stood there, staring down at her through the glass. Waiting for the penny to drop. Waiting for her to finally take the worker's advice and walk away.

When she didn’t budge, a strange tightness gripped his throat.

His gaze dropped to the floor for a split second, his voice rough and scratchy from hours of silence when he finally spoke.

"I know I'm not easy," he muttered. The honesty of the words felt awkward in his mouth, raw and unfamiliar.

One ear flicked back, his tail twitching once behind him.

"But... if you actually want me..." He hesitated, every survival instinct he possessed screaming at him to shut up, to lock down, to not risk the fall. But he looked up anyway, meeting her eyes through the thick pane of glass. "...I'd like to go with you."

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