Escaping His Lethal Obsession

I have always been painfully, paralyzingly introverted. I’m a grown woman, and the mere thought of dating makes my throat close up. So, whenever the fever of my heat cycle spikes, I survive by burying my face in Rhys’s clothes, breathing in the sharp, freezing scent of his sea-salt pheromones. But then, the glowing strings of text—the Feed—started appearing in my vision. [Ugh, the male lead is so pitiful. He’s only satisfying his vicious stepsister’s heat to repay a debt to his stepmother.] [He finally had a chance to meet the female lead today, but had to rush back just because she called.] [Good thing he only promised to take care of the sister until she turned twenty. Just half a month left until he’s free!] [And when she keeps pestering him later, he literally throws her into the Cobalt Abyss to feed the sharks!] I am terrified of sharks. Panic seized my chest. I reached out, my fingers scrambling to grab Rhys’s hand just as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Under his cool, heavy gaze, I swallowed hard. My voice broke. "T-thank you, Rhys. But... no." I forced myself to let go of him, shrinking back against the mattress. "I don't need my big brother's help anymore." 1 I am a rabbit Therian. Because I was born premature, I was malnourished from the start. It made me vastly more timid than other herbivores. On my first day of kindergarten, the sheer sensory overload of seeing so many people caused me to hold my breath until I passed out. My mother brought me home to recover. A few days later, we tried again. I passed out again. Dr. Finch, our family physician, shook his head. "This isn't working. The child is going to do permanent damage to herself. You'll have to homeschool her." My mother thought about it and agreed. Her true form was a koala. Honestly, all she ever wanted to do was cling to the eucalyptus tree in our sunroom and chew leaves. She was chronically lazy. She wasn't particularly bright, either. But she possessed the kind of breathtaking, ruinous beauty that made people stop in their tracks. When she saw the news broadcast of an eight-year-old prodigy named Rhys Callahan winning the National Exo-Armor Design Championship and securing early admission to the Imperial Military Academy, she got an idea. She went straight to the Callahan estate. Within a month, she had secured a marriage to Rhys's father. But she didn't get to enjoy her new life of luxury for long. A few months later, out of sheer gluttony, she ate a tin of cookies someone had gifted to Rhys. The cookies were laced with poison. They were given to Rhys by his supposedly best friend, driven by bitter jealousy. Rhys was supposed to eat them. Instead, my mother got to them first. Just like that, I didn't have a mother anymore. I was nothing but a pathetic, shivering little rabbit in a sprawling, cold mansion. I shifted into my true form, went into the Callahan’s pristine rose garden, dug a little hole, and tried to bury myself in the dirt. Rhys found me. He dug me out, brushed the soil from my fur, and gently rubbed my floppy ears. He told me he was going to take care of me from now on. 2 Rhys is four years older than me. He is a genius. I am an idiot. From the age of four, I became his shadow. I clung to him when we ate. I clung to him when we slept. When he went to school, I would shift into a rabbit, hide at the bottom of his backpack, and sleep inside his desk. But I am still an evolved Therian. Spending too much time in my shifted form triggered a permanent physical side effect. I lost the ability to retract my ears and tail. Even now, as an adult, I walk around with two soft rabbit ears resting against my hair. Thankfully, I’m a lop-ear. They naturally droop down. When I’m terrified, the fur on them just puffs up a little. "You don't need your brother anymore?" Under the harsh glare of the bedroom's incandescent light, Rhys repeated my words, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous drawl. His true form is a blue-ringed oceanic hybrid—a cephalopod. By nature, he is cold. Everything he does is calculated, quiet, and chillingly precise. In all the years we've lived together, I can count the number of times I've seen him smile on one hand. But right now, his calmness was terrifying. Every single hair on my ears stood on end. Still, I braced myself and forced the words out. "Y-yes. I've been too much trouble for you all these years. I'm an adult now. I need to take responsibility for my own future. I can't keep depending on you like this." "Right." Rhys gave a slow, measured nod. He unclasped his heavy silver watch and tossed it onto the nightstand. The metal clinked sharply against the glass. "My little sister is all grown up. She doesn't need me. Perfectly normal." He stepped closer. "Nothing to be angry about. I'm thrilled for you." With a careless flick of his fingers, he popped the top buttons of his black dress shirt. I snapped my head up, my eyes widening. Before my brain could even process the movement, his hand clamped around both of my wrists. With a sudden, overwhelming force, he pinned me backward into the soft mattress. 3 The truth is, for the past few years, we had an arrangement. A mutual reliance. Oceanic hybrids have incredibly long gaps between their rut cycles. Usually, they only hit a fever pitch once every six months. But I’m a rabbit. Every single month, I need to be touched, kissed, and grounded by a stronger scent. Because of that disparity, I subconsciously convinced myself that I was the only one doing the taking. I was the burden. I had completely forgotten what season it was. It was autumn. His needs were waking up. Rhys had flicked the light switch off as he pushed me down. He is so much larger than I am. He looks lean in his military uniforms, but underneath, he is built of dense, unrelenting muscle. The moment his weight settled over me, I was entirely consumed. ... When the lights finally came back on, I was a trembling, exhausted mess, my hair plastered to my damp forehead. Rhys carried me into the adjoining bathroom. His voice was still wrecked with gravel, his cheek pressed flush against mine. "Are you ever going to say something like that to me again?" he murmured, the vibration traveling straight into my bones. "I raised you for sixteen years, Hazel. Did you think I’d let you use those words just to push me away?" My ears flushed a bright, burning red. My tail ached. I bit my lip, eyes pooling with tears, completely too scared to answer. The Feed flickered back to life across my vision: [???] [Wait, I thought I was reading a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers military romance about two badass Strike Commanders? What is happening right now?!] [Where are the authors?!] [Honestly, I’m kind of here for the angsty pseudo-incest trope. Keep it coming!] [Chill, guys. It’s just the early chapters. The male lead hasn't even met the female lead yet. He’s just using the stepsister as a warm body. Once he lays eyes on the FMC, he’ll realize what real chemistry is!] 4 Through the scrolling texts over the past few weeks, I had pieced together a devastating reality. I was living inside a sci-fi military romance novel. Rhys was the male lead. The undisputed Captain of the First Imperial Exo-Armor Division. The female lead was a woman named Sloane—the absolute top of this year’s graduating class at the Academy. Sloane’s resume was flawless. Her one, driving ambition was to join the First Division. Her interview was supposed to be yesterday. But because I had called Rhys in the middle of a panic attack, he had pushed everything back to today. And right now, sitting in his sleek, glass-walled office at the base, I was holding Sloane’s resume in my hands. Clipped to the top right corner were two photos. One was her true form: a sleek, magnificent red fox, her chin tilted up with quiet pride. The other was her human form: a striking girl with fiery red hair pulled into a high, practical ponytail. Her sharp, fox-like eyes looked out from the frame—calm, intelligent, and unyielding. Right next to my chair was the trash can. All I had to do was slip the file over the edge. Rhys wouldn't notice. Even if he did, he wouldn't yell at me. In fact, when I told him I wanted to tag along to his office today, he had specifically handed me this thick stack of recruit dossiers just to keep me entertained. He had kissed the soft crown of my rabbit ears and told me that if I saw anyone whose face I didn't like, I could just throw them out. He didn't care that I knew absolutely nothing about Exo-Armor mechanics. In a galaxy teeming with prodigies, there was an ocean of talent to choose from. Getting picked was often more about luck than raw skill. I flipped past Sloane's photo to read her stats. Reflexes: SSS+ Agility: SSS+ Combat Lethality: SSS+ Where other recruits had a flaw or two, she was practically flawless. And on top of that, she was the only female hybrid in the entire elite applicant pool. Strong. Rational. Driven. Gorgeous. I didn't need the floating Feed to tell me the truth. If Rhys met her, he would undoubtedly be drawn to her. "Find something interesting, sweetheart?" Rhys had just finished signing off on a requisition form. He spun his chair around, his arm naturally wrapping around my waist, pulling me against his side. He cast a bored, indifferent glance at the stack of papers on my lap. "If you don't like her, just toss it." "No." My voice was a small, tight whisper. "This one... she looks really impressive. You should look at her, Rhys." I pressed the dossier against his chest. "You like her?" He leaned in, pressing another lingering kiss to my drooped ear. Ever since last night, he had become startlingly affectionate. His emotions were closer to the surface. He kept calling me sweetheart. He couldn't seem to stop touching me. But I knew the truth. Once the male and female leads finally met, all of this would evaporate. "Yeah," I forced myself to say. "She's amazing. I want to see her." Rhys called his adjutant and ordered Sloane to be brought in first. Right before the heavy office door swung open, I panicked. I shifted back into a tiny, white lop-eared rabbit and buried myself entirely inside Rhys's uniform jacket. [Ahhhh! The main couple is finally meeting! I’m screaming!] [Look at those two stoic badasses. The eye contact alone is explosive. The chemistry is off the charts! They look so good together!] [The sister is kind of pitiful though. The bunny is literally crying under his coat.] [...Well, it’s her fault for not being the main character, right?] 5 I stayed suffocated in the warm darkness of Rhys's jacket, listening to him and Sloane talk. At first, it was standard protocol. Why did she choose the Strike Division? What were her long-term objectives? But then, the conversation shifted into high-level tactical mechanics that went entirely over my head. Sloane’s voice was steady and crisp. There was no hesitation in her answers, and when they touched on a subject she was passionate about, her tone brightened with a brilliant, ringing confidence. Rhys’s tone had started out entirely detached. But as the minutes ticked by, it shifted. I could hear the unmistakable edge of genuine admiration bleeding into his voice. Sloane wasn't intimidated by him at all. When she thought his tactical assessment was flawed, she openly, eloquently challenged him. They were completely in sync. A sour, aching heaviness bloomed in my chest. I lifted a little white paw and rubbed at my heart, trying to ease the sting. That evening, Rhys took me to my favorite herbivore-friendly restaurant. I couldn't find an ounce of joy in it. The fresh greens on my plate remained untouched. I only managed a tiny sip of my sweet corn milk. Noticing my mood, Rhys muted his holographic conference call. He scooped a spoonful of warm oat porridge and pulled me onto his lap to coax me into eating. "You did incredible today, sweetheart. Finding the best recruit out of that massive pile," he murmured, pressing his lips to my temple. "I was only going to interview the top ten. If it wasn't for you, I would have missed her." I swallowed the porridge, though it tasted like ash. "Is Sloane really that amazing?" The unmasked appreciation returned to his voice. "Normally, female Therians excel in the cerebral aspects—Exo-design, engineering. Male Therians usually dominate in brute force. But she’s not just a master of design; her physical lethality and agility metrics are absolute perfection." The Feed scrolled relentlessly: [Sister, stop asking. They’re fated mates. They’re drawn to each other like magnets. You’re just torturing yourself.] [Honestly, the bunny is sweet. She didn't throw away the resume when she had the chance. She’s cute.] [I kind of feel bad for her.] My mouth tasted bitter. I forced down another forkful of greens in silence. When we got back to the estate, Rhys walked me to my bedroom door. Just as he turned to leave for his own wing, I summoned every ounce of courage I possessed and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. I was so nervous my rabbit ears actually lifted an inch off my head. "Rhys." My voice trembled. "Can you... can you sleep in my room tonight?" I felt his breath hitch. His muscles went rigid under my hands. My face was burning. I thought, just maybe, he would say yes. A second later, his hands closed over my wrists, gently but firmly prying me off him. He turned, picked me up, and set me down on the edge of my bed. His long, calloused fingers brushed against my lower lip. His voice was rough. "Don't push it, sweetheart. We went too hard yesterday. You need to rest tonight." The Feed lit up in neon mockery: [Lmao, the male lead isn't exactly known for his 'restraint', okay? Once he realizes his feelings for the FMC, they go at it like animals. The fact that he’s holding back just proves he doesn't love the sister.] [Yeah, he’s definitely catching feelings for Sloane now.] [Honestly, the sister should just pivot. The second male lead is right there! He’s a total catch. Before Rhys and Sloane lock it down, she should go secure her own man!] Watching the broad line of Rhys's back disappear down the hallway, I bit the tip of my tongue until the metallic taste of blood grounded me. Another man? But... I only wanted him. 6 I’ve always been the type to suffer in silence. When my mother was still alive, I used to cry and throw tantrums when I was upset. But after she died, I was left entirely alone in this massive, echoing house. I learned very quickly not to make a fuss. When things got too heavy, my instinct was to shift into a rabbit and hide in the darkest corner I could find. Even after Rhys and I grew close, whenever I felt hurt, I swallowed it down and digested it alone. But Rhys always found me. He always knew exactly where to look, bringing me sweet carrots and sitting with me until the darkness passed. Lately, though, he wasn't looking as hard. His entire focus had shifted to the Strike Division’s upcoming tournament. He left before dawn and returned long after midnight. Sometimes, I would sit up waiting for him, fighting off sleep, only for him to walk in, give my ears a distracted pat, and head straight to his office. He didn't even notice I hadn't eaten a full meal in days. Eventually, the loneliness cracked me. I followed him to the military base. Rhys set me up in the viewing lounge with a glass of corn milk and a plate of fresh greens, told me to watch a movie, and promised he'd be back. But I couldn't sit still. I slipped out into the corridor and crept up to the observation window of the primary training deck. The very first thing he did was walk straight over to Sloane. They stood close, laughing about something I couldn't hear. Miller, Rhys’s canine hybrid adjutant, noticed me hovering. He ambled over, leaning against the glass with a gossipy grin. "Hey there, little bunny. Looks like you're getting a sister-in-law soon, huh?" I chewed hard on my bottom lip. "Why would you say that?" "Come on. I’ve run with the Commander for years. I've seen hundreds of recruits cycle through here. He always delegates their training to the junior officers. I have never, not once, seen him put this much personal energy into a single rookie. Sure, Sloane’s a prodigy, but this? It’s different." Miller pointed toward the deck. "Look. He’s manually adjusting her firing stance." I followed his finger. Rhys was in his sleek black combat gear. Sloane was in striking crimson red. They were standing so close that the space between them was practically non-existent. So close that if Rhys just tilted his head an inch, his lips would brush against her red hair. I pressed my lips into a tight, bloodless line. I stared at them. I kept staring until the image burned into my retinas. Suddenly, a violent wave of nausea slammed into my chest. I doubled over, dry-heaving against the pristine corridor wall. 7 I think I’m pregnant. Rabbit Therians are hyper-sensitive to gestation. I rushed home, practically tripping over my own feet, and locked myself in the bathroom. The test turned bright red almost instantly. The Feed went into absolute overdrive: [Wait, what?! The sister got knocked up?!] [Ugh, I’m dropping this novel. This is so messy.] [No, wait, this is the catalyst! This is the inciting incident! Rhys is already falling for Sloane. The sister tries to use the baby to trap him, refuses to get an abortion, and Rhys finally snaps and throws her to the sharks!] [Oh god, I remember that scene! The mechanical sharks bite her right in half, and four little unborn bunnies spill out into the water. It’s so grim!] I stopped breathing. The plastic stick slipped from my fingers, clattering against the tile. When Rhys finally got home, I waited until he had changed into his soft, worn sweatpants. He pulled me onto the sofa, pulling out the clippers to trim my nails, just like he always did. I looked at him, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. "Do you... do you like baby bunnies?" He paused. He leaned forward, tapping his nose against mine. "Baby bunnies just like you?" My eyes brightened with desperate, fragile hope. I nodded quickly. "Mhm. Maybe four of them. Tiny ones. They'd probably be cuter than me. And definitely smarter. With your genetics, they might even have blue eyes. Or blue ears." The realization hit him. The temperature in the room instantly plummeted. The relaxed, domestic warmth vanished from his posture, replaced by something rigid and terrifyingly cold. "You want a child, Hazel?" I hesitated, shrinking back slightly under the weight of his stare. He reached out, smoothing a thumb over my drooped ear. "Now is not the time for a child. We need to wait a few years." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "But... what if I'm already pregnant?" His brows snapped together in a heavy, dark line. 8 The silence that followed was suffocating. The antique clock on the wall ticked with agonizing slowness. Tick. Tick. Tick. Rhys stared at me, his eyes an impenetrable, abyssal black. Finally, he spoke. "We go to the hospital." My chest tightened. "Rabbit hybrids have fragile constitutions to begin with. You were born premature. Your body can’t handle it," he said, his voice flat and clinical. "High-tier oceanic genetics are hyper-aggressive. A cross-species gestation with my DNA will tear your body apart. The mother faces catastrophic risk." He stood up, towering over me. His tone left absolutely no room for negotiation. "If you are pregnant, I am scheduling the procedure for tomorrow. We are taking it out." My heart plummeted straight into ice. A loud, frantic ringing filled my ears, drowning out the room. The Feed exploded across my vision: [See?! SEE! I told you!] [The male lead really found the ultimate excuse just to clear the path for the FMC. 'Catastrophic risk' my ass.] [He just wants to eliminate the obstacle. Once the abortion is done, she has no use to him. Straight to the sharks.] I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. Rhys reached out to touch my head. I instinctively flinched, jerking my neck away to avoid his hand. His fingers froze mid-air. "Be good," he said, his voice softening by a fraction of a degree. He pulled his hand back. "Once your body heals, we can find another way later." Another way? Did he mean having children with Sloane? I lowered my eyes, fighting with everything I had to force the tears back down. I forced my posture to relax into total obedience. I gave a small, quiet nod. "Okay. Whatever you say, Rhys." Early the next morning, Rhys had an emergency tactical briefing at the base. He assigned Miller to escort me to the Imperial Prime Hospital. I sat in the back of the sleek hover-car, my hands pressed protectively over my flat stomach. When we arrived, Miller told me to wait while he checked us in at the kiosk. I told him I needed the restroom and slipped around the corner into an isolated stall. I locked the door and pulled a jagged piece of shattered glass from my coat pocket. I had broken a water glass last night and hidden the shard under my mattress. I took a deep, shuddering breath. I pressed the sharp edge against the thick metal tracking band locked around my ankle, and I pushed down with everything I had. The band was military-grade. The glass sliced deep into the skin of my ankle. Blood welled up, spilling hot over my shoe. I couldn't feel the pain. All I felt was absolute, blinding terror. I was terrified of being dragged back. Terrified of being fed to the sharks. With a sharp crack, the locking mechanism gave way. The metal band snapped open. I threw it into the toilet and flushed. Then, I shoved the ventilation window open, shifted into a tiny, palm-sized white rabbit, and scrambled out through the ductwork.