Chapter Text
The manor stood against the night like a secret meant to be forgotten. Its spires clawed at the moonlight, its windows were blackened with centuries of silence, and the forest that surrounded it seemed to lean inward as though trying to listen.
The world outside had abandoned places like this; crumbling stone, velvet curtains worn thin with dust, staircases that led into the dark, but for those who dwelled within, it was not ruin, but sanctuary. Inside the walls, time lingered, curled itself into shadows, and sat at the feet of four predators who had made eternity their home.
But tonight, that sanctuary would be disturbed.
Baby crouched low in the underbrush, teal hair catching glimmers of silver beneath the moon and gray wolfish ears twitching in anticipation. His heart hammered against his ribs, not in fear, but in the thrill of the hunt.
He had been watching the manor for nights now, perched in trees, slinking along stone fences, sniffing the air for weakness. Wolves were made to stalk, and though he was no full beast, instinct rippled through his blood all the same. The hybrid boy’s lips quirked into a grin as his wide, doe-like eyes narrowed. Inside, he knew there would be food—plenty of it.
These vampires, with their pretentious silk and old-world grandeur, surely hoarded not only blood but preserved fruits and berries, even dried meat that Baby swore he caught a whiff off once or twice. Pretty weird given that vampires don't even eat mortal food, but he had smelled it, faint and tempting, seeping from the stone walls.
And he was starving.
His pack Alpha had barred anyone from giving him food again, which was unfair! The bite he gave the Alpha leering at him near the creek wasn’t as deep as he gave the Beta who stepped on his tail a week ago. But that's what you get when you're both a runt and an Omega, no?
Grumbling slightly, Baby snapped out of his thoughts and focused on the task at hand. The manor had no guards, no hounds at its gates, no visible barrier save for the suffocating aura that rolled from its walls like smoke.
Any ordinary thief would have felt it in their marrow and turned away, but Baby was not ordinary. His wolf nature made him resistant, dulled the sharp edge of vampire glamour and fear. He didn’t run from the weight pressing down on him—he licked his lips and pressed closer, eager to see just how far he could push.
He slipped across the grounds with nimble speed, feet silent against the grass. His small frame made him hard to spot, his grin mischievous even when he stumbled over a gnarled root. A window, cracked just enough at the base of the western wing, caught his attention. His fingers brushed against the cold stone, nails dirty, palms scraped from climbing. Without hesitation, he wriggled through the gap, chest pressed to the sill, hips twisting until he tumbled inside in an ungraceful heap.
The air changed the moment he landed.
It was colder here, heavy with velvet and smoke, and the silence was so complete it rang in his ears. He straightened slowly, brushing dust from his patched shirt, and inhaled. The scents struck him at once: old wood, candlewax, wine aged beyond human comprehension—and blood. Not the sharp, metallic tang of fresh spillage, but something thicker, preserved, bottled. It made his stomach growl, and he chuckled under his breath.
“Well, well. Rich folk really know how to live.”
He padded deeper into the hall, shoulders brushing carved wooden panels, eyes darting to portraits that stared down at him with lifeless eyes. He stuck his tongue out at one of them, a haughty man painted in oils, and whispered mockingly, “Boo.”
His own laughter nearly betrayed him, but he muffled it, skipping forward with the restless energy of a child about to cause trouble. Baby often strays from pack grounds like this, claiming the thrill gives him the freedom he craves. But, it is the first time he snuck into a manor presumably filled with vamps and the adrenaline was almost enough to fill him up. Almost.
The pantry wasn’t hard to find. He followed his nose, keen as any wolf’s, weaving past grand staircases and crimson rugs until the scent of food grew undeniable. His mouth watered as he pulled open the heavy wooden door, and what greeted him made his knees buckle with relief.
Shelves stacked with preserved fruits in jars, berry scent wafting off of sealed ceramic containers, and bottles lined like soldiers in rows. He darted forward, snatched a jar, and pried the lid off with a pop that echoed too loudly. Sticky syrup smeared his lips as he shoveled strawberry slices into his mouth, sighing dramatically as though he had never tasted anything so divine.
“Finally,” he whispered around a mouthful, “a break-in worth the trouble.”
But while Baby devoured his spoils with reckless abandon, the manor itself began to stir.
《🍓》
In the drawing room, where the fire had burned low into embers, the coven lingered in a rare moment of quiet companionship. Jinu sat in the high-backed chair nearest to the fire, his sharp hazel eyes fixed not on the flames but on the reflection of his companions in the darkened glass.
His fingers tapped idly on the armrest, rhythmic, controlled, betraying the faint irritation he always carried when the night dragged without purpose, and the off-key whistling coming from the pink-haired lug getting wooden shavings on the carpet
Across from him, lazily sprawled on the floor, was Abby. The vampire’s pink hair gleamed against his tanned skin, his broad chest visible beneath a shirt that clung to his physique. He was carving something; another figurine, whittled from soft wood. His large hands moved with surprising delicacy for someone built to crush rather than create. He hummed off-key, grinning at nothing in particular, until Jinu’s gaze flicked his way in warning.
“Too loud,” Jinu murmured, voice smooth but edged.
Abby chuckled, tossing his head like an unbothered hound. “And here I thought you liked when I set the mood.”
On the chaise, Romance lounged with effortless grace, pink hair falling into his eyes as he flipped through a book of sketches. He looked more art than flesh, his posture languid, one leg crossed over the other as though he were posing for a portrait.
His voice drifted, soft and amused, “Mood, perhaps. Harmony, never.”
Mystery sat apart, half-shadowed near the window. Lavender strands veiled his pale face as he watched the trees sway outside. His silence pressed heavier than words, the others long accustomed to his stillness. But when the sound came—the faint pop of a jar lid, distant but unmistakable—his head tilted. His eyes sharpened.
“There’s someone here,” he said simply.
The room froze.
Jinu’s fingers stilled against the chair. Abby’s grin faltered into curiosity. Romance raised his head slowly, eyes narrowing with quiet intrigue.
The leader rose, his movements unhurried, but the air shifted around him like a storm pulling into focus. He takes a deep breath, before opening his eyes.
“We have a stray.”
《🍓》
Baby, oblivious to the gathering storm, was on his third jar. Syrup clung to his chin, his cheeks stuffed, his hands sticky as he reached greedily for bread. He danced a little in place, humming tunelessly, his grin wide with triumph. He was so absorbed in his feast that he didn’t notice the silence deepen, didn’t feel the eyes on him until the room itself seemed to grow smaller.
“Quite the appetite,” A voice drawled from the doorway.
Baby froze mid-bite, head snapping up. A man leaned lazily against the frame, his bulk easily making him pass as a wolf if not for the needle-sharp fangs glinting in the dark. The man's arms were crossed over his chest, a smirk playing across his lips. His pink hair glowed in the candlelight, his broad shoulders filling the space like a wall of muscle.
The wolf hybrid blinked, then grinned, sticky lips stretching wide. “Oh. Hey there. Didn’t see you.”
The man (which he dubbed “Pinky”) barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Bold little thing, aren’t you?”
“Hungry little thing,” Baby corrected, shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth with a cheeky wink.
A shadow slipped into the room behind the man, and another vampire entered. His presence was quieter, but far more dangerous. He moved like a blade unsheathed, eyes sharp, posture regal. His gaze swept Baby from head to toe, lingering on the teal hair, the wolfish grin, the crumbs dotting his shirt.
“You dare to trespass here,” He said, voice low, almost hypnotic.
Baby’s grin wavered for half a second, now fully aware that this was the Prime; the vampire equivalent of their pack Alpha and head honcho of this manor.
It takes a beat for him to gather his wits but he tilted his head with mock innocence. “Trespass? No, no. Just… visiting. Sampling the local cuisine.”
“Sampling,” The Prime repeated, each syllable clipped.
Another appeared next, slipping past Pinky with feline grace. His pastel hair framed his face like silk, his eyes soft but unyielding as they fixed on the boy. “He’s rather cute, don’t you think?”
“Cute,” Pinky agreed, grinning again. “Like a puppy caught in the pantry.”
Baby scowled. “I’m a wolf.”
From the corner, a soft voice came like a whisper of steel. “Half of one.”
Baby whirled around, strawberries in hand, to see another vampire ready inside the pantry. The boy’s cheeks flushed, and he stomped his foot, sticky fingers balled into fists. “I’m not half anything! I’m—”
“—a thief,” the Prime interrupted. His words cut clean, silencing the room.
For the first time, Baby faltered. He looked between them—the towering bulky vamp, the elegance of the long-haired one, the sharp-eyed Prime, and the quiet one in the shadows. Four predators, their presence suffocating, their attention heavy. His instincts screamed to run, but his pride, his wolf’s fire, held him still.
“I just wanted food,” he muttered, softer now.
The Prime stepped forward, and the air thickened. “And what if we wanted blood?”
Baby’s heart lurched, but his grin flickered back, shaky but defiant. “Then you’d find I bite harder than I look.”
Silence followed, broken only by Pinky's sudden roar of laughter. The big vampire doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Oh, I like him!” he crowed. “Pint-sized but full of teeth!”
Mr. Long-hair's lips curved into a smile, delicate and dangerous. “Yes. He’s amusing.”
The Prime studied Baby for a long moment. The boy stood small in the grand room, sticky and disheveled, but unbroken. At last, he spoke.
“You will not steal from us again.” His voice was command, final and sharp.
Baby’s grin widened, reckless. “Guess that depends on how hungry I get.”
The coven stared, and then—unexpectedly—the Prime's lips twitched. Not a smile, not quite, but something close.
“Very well,” he said softly. “Let us see how long you last.”