I don’t remember my name before this place. I only know the scent of antiseptic, the burn of silver in the air, and the silence where my memories should be. They broke us piece by piece—our strength, our pride, our will to shift. But when *he* was dragged into the cell beside mine, something primal roared back to life. A deep, ancient pull I can’t ignore. He’s a black panther like me. And somehow, impossibly… he feels like home. The humans call it a breeding program. I call it torture. But if he’s my true mate, then they’ve already lost. Because nothing destroys a caged beast faster than giving it something worth dying for.