Yazmina barely had time to react before a blur of multicolored yarn pounced on her.

The impact sent her stumbling, she found herself pinned beneath a creature unlike any she had seen up close before but was very familiar.

His enormous frame loomed over her, his vibrant, tangled mane of yarn brushing against her face as he stared down with wide, cartoonish white eyes.

His black, dilated irises locked onto hers, unblinking, unnervingly focused. His large grin, a permanent fixture on his amber face, revealed three triangular fangs protruding asymmetrically from his lower lip.

Harley cursed under his breath. "Fuck it, Yarnaby, I told you to stay put."

He moved forward, prepared to intervene, but then-he hesitated.

Yarnaby wasn't attacking.

The monstrous lion merely loomed over Yazmina, his paws planted firmly on either side of her, sharp claws still sheathed.

He didn't bite, didn't maul, didn't shred her apart like he had done to so many before.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, his thick, yarn-like mane shifting with the motion.

Yazmina, to her credit, didn't flinch. If anything, she seemed more intrigued than afraid.

Slowly, deliberately, she reached up, her fingers brushing against the strands of his mane.

The texture was unlike anything she expected-soft yet firm, woven yet wild. It was warm too, as if the tangled yarn harbored a life of its own.

Harley raised a brow. "Huh. He likes you."

Yazmina didn't respond. She was too focused on Yarnaby, too caught up in the rare opportunity to examine him this closely.

He was meant to be hidden from her, that much was clear.

Harley had never intended for her to see him tonight, let alone interact with him.

Yet here he was, ignoring his master's orders, pressing his nose against her wrist as if committing her scent to memory.

She felt his breath-warm, steady, controlled. There was an intelligence behind those absurdly large eyes, something calculating yet oddly... gentle.

After a long moment, Yarnaby let out a low, rumbling sound-not quite a purr, but not a growl either. Then, just as suddenly as he had pounced, he stepped back, allowing her to rise.

Yazmina dusted herself off, her expression unreadable as she glanced at Harley. "You were keeping him a secret."

He smirked. "And yet, here we are."

She said nothing. Instead, she turned to Yarnaby, who was now sitting beside her, his large form relaxed, his tangled, vibrant mane shifting with each subtle movement. He was watching her.

And then he started following her.

Harley watched with mild amusement as the oversized monster shadowed Yazmina's every step, his massive paws barely making a sound against the cold floors.

It wasn't out of hunger, nor the thrill of the hunt-it was something else entirely.

Yazmina, of course, pretended not to care.

But when she thought Harley wasn't looking, she allowed herself small indulgences-running her fingers through Yarnaby's thick mane, feeling the strange softness of the woven fur beneath her fingertips.

She was fascinated by him, even if she never admitted it aloud.

Harley noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

"You know," he mused, watching as Yarnaby leaned against Yazmina, his large, three-toed paws pressing against the floor with surprising gentleness. "I warned him not to ruin that pretty face of yours. Didn't think he'd take it this far."

Yazmina merely glanced at him. "Maybe he has better taste than you."

Harley chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe."

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of this development. Yarnaby was unpredictable at best, bloodthirsty at worst. Yet here he was, docile, drawn to a woman who showed no fear of him.

Intriguing.

Very intriguing.

As they continued through the facility, Yazmina said nothing, her face impassive as always. But when Harley wasn't looking, her fingers briefly curled into Yarnaby's mane, feeling the strange comfort of its texture.

The lion responded, leaning into her touch, a deep vibration running through his body-not quite a purr, but something close.

Later, when they reached a quieter hallway, Yazmina paused. Yarnaby, now walking beside her instead of trailing behind, turned his massive head to watch her.

She glanced toward Harley, making sure his attention was elsewhere, before carefully extending her hand toward Yarnaby's face. The lion sniffed at her fingers before nuzzling against her palm, his oddly soft fur brushing against her skin.

Her lips twitched-almost a smile, but not quite.

Harley, who had been watching from the corner of his eye, smirked.

Yes.

This was getting interesting.

----

Yazmina walked through the dimly lit corridor, the faint hum of machinery filling the air. Yarnaby followed at her side, his massive paws barely making a sound against the cold floor. His multicolored mane shifted with every step, the vibrant strands catching what little light the facility offered.

Harley trailed behind them, hands in his coat pockets, watching the two with a smirk.

"Didn't peg you for an animal lover," he mused.

"I'm not." Yazmina didn't spare him a glance.

Harley chuckled. "Right. That's why he's glued to your side."

Yazmina ignored him. She wasn't about to entertain his amusement. But she couldn't ignore Yarnaby, not when he kept brushing against her every few steps, his warm presence an odd contrast to the cold sterility of the underground facility.

It was strange.

He was a monster. A creation of Playtime Co. No different from the others trapped in those cages, twisted into something they were never meant to be.

And yet, he was... affectionate.

He nudged her hand with his nose again, as if seeking permission.

She let her fingers graze the tangled yarn of his mane, barely a touch, but it was enough. Yarnaby rumbled in approval, his cartoonish grin stretching wider.

Harley's smirk deepened.

"Careful," he drawled. "He might start thinking you're his new favorite."

Yazmina stopped, finally looking at him. "Would that be a problem?"

Harley tilted his head, considering. "Depends."

"On?"

He took a step closer, his gaze flicking between her and Yarnaby. "How much you're willing to embrace what we do here."

Yazmina's expression remained cold. "I've already seen enough."

Harley hummed. "You say that, but you haven't run yet."

Yazmina met his stare, unwavering. "Neither have you."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in silent challenge. Then, Harley chuckled, shaking his head.

"I do love a woman with backbone."

Yazmina turned away, uninterested in his games. She moved forward, Yarnaby falling into step beside her once more.

Harley watched them go, something sharp gleaming in his eyes.

But the moment Yazmina thought he was done talking, he added, "He doesn't do this with anyone else, you know."

She paused but didn't turn. "And?"

Harley stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And I wonder... are you the one taming him, or is he the one taming you?"

Yazmina finally glanced at him, her eyes cold as steel. "If that's what you think, you don't know me at all."

Harley smirked. "Oh, I think I do. And I think I'll enjoy proving it."

Yazmina said nothing. Instead, she kept walking, her pace steady, her posture unshaken.

Yarnaby brushed against her side, his presence warm, grounding. For the first time since stepping into this facility, she felt something unfamiliar, something strange.

Not fear.

Not hesitation.

Something else.

Something she couldn't name.

And as Harley's gaze lingered on her retreating figure, one thing was clear-

This was only the beginning.