Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Olivia’s ears caught sound before anything else.

Not sharply—more like awareness seeping in. Voices, low and overlapping, coming from somewhere nearby. Familiar tones, but out of place. Her living room, maybe? That didn’t make sense. It was a Thursday morning. Who would be in her living room on a Thursday morning?

The thought drifted by without irritation. Just curiosity.

Then light.

Her eyes fluttered open and she winced immediately—not from pain, but sheer brightness. Why is it so bloody bright in here? she wondered, squinting and blinking as her vision tried to catch up with reality. The room looked… wrong. Too crisp. Too detailed. Shadows had edges. Colors felt louder.

She lay there a moment, gathering herself. No pain. No ache. No lingering fog—just a pleasant heaviness, like she’d slept far longer than intended.

Overslept, her mind supplied helpfully. Great. First day I’ve overslept.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

The floor felt… interesting. Not cold. Not warm. Textured, in a way she couldn’t quite put words to yet. She wobbled slightly, caught herself, frowned.

“Huh,” she muttered. “Must’ve slept funny.”

Everything felt a little off-angle, like the world had tilted while she wasn’t looking. She chalked it up to the long sleep and took a steadying breath.

More voices. Louder now.

Definitely her living room.

She considered, briefly, grabbing a robe or something, then dismissed the thought with a sleepy huff. It was her apartment. Her space. If people were making noise in her living room, that was their problem.

“If I want to walk around naked in my own place,” she muttered, shuffling toward the door, “then I bloody well will.”

She opened the bedroom door and stepped through.

Doctor Lenny Myles had just come in the front door.

Helmet in hand. Backpack sliding off one shoulder.

Lenny looked up.

And stopped.

Her mouth fell open.

Across the room, Charles rose slowly from his chair, eyes fixed on Olivia with an expression caught somewhere between awe and concern and pure, unfiltered relief.

Miss LaDonna sat very still, hands folded in her lap, gaze steady and shining.

Every single one of them was staring at Olivia like she’d just walked in from another planet.

Olivia looked between them, confused, bleary, and still operating on the assumption that this was a normal morning.

“What?” she demanded, crossing her arms without quite realizing how that felt different now. “It’s my apartment. I’m allowed to go naked in here, aren’t I?”

The room was silent.

Very gently—so gently it was almost ceremonial—Miss LaDonna stood.

“My dear,” she said softly, “perhaps… you should look at yourself.”

She gestured—not urgently, not dramatically—toward the tall mirror draped in midnight blue and silver, now uncovered and waiting just off to the side.

Olivia frowned.

“What for? I’ve seen myself naked before—”

She turned.

And the sentence died in her throat.

The woman in the mirror was her.

And not her.

Tall. Strong. Fur—not clothing, not costume—sleek and fine over familiar curves, shading from soft tan to deep black and warm brown in patterns her heart recognized instantly. Upright ears crowned her head, expressive and alive, twitching faintly as she breathed. Her face—still her, unmistakably—carried a subtle strength now, a gentle length to the jaw, shadows falling in a way that felt timeless rather than strange.

Her tail moved behind her—slow, cautious, unmistakably real.

Olivia stared.

Her ears flicked.

Her tail gave one uncertain sway.

“Oh,” she said faintly.

Then, after a beat:

“…oh.”

She lifted one hand. Watched the fur catch the light. Flexed her fingers. Shifted her weight—and felt how naturally her body balanced now.

She laughed once, softly. Then again, a little louder, breathless with wonder.

“I—” She swallowed. “I’m… late for work, aren’t I?”

Charles exhaled a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Lenny finally found her voice. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see that look on your face.”

Miss LaDonna stepped forward at last and opened her arms.

“Welcome back, Olivia,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for a little while.”

Olivia looked down at herself again. Then back at them. Then—slowly, carefully—she smiled.

“…Did it work?”

Charles stepped closer, coming to stand beside Olivia at the mirror. Lenny shifted to her other side without even thinking about it, the three of them reflected together—past, present, and becoming.

“My dear child,” Charles said softly, voice warm with unmistakable pride, “I would be remiss if I said anything other than yes. It worked—wonderfully. Your body now matches your spirit, one hundred percent. And it looks…” He smiled at her reflection. “…beautiful on you.”

Lenny snorted affectionately and slid an arm around Olivia’s waist, her grip easy, familiar, grounding. “In other words,” she said cheerfully, “you look fuckin’ hot, bitch. And I mean that in the most literal medical sense.”

That did it.

The tension snapped like a string pulled too tight, and all four of them burst into laughter at once—bright, relieved, a little hysterical around the edges. Olivia laughed until her ears flattened and her tail wagged without her realizing it, her body answering joy with joy before her brain could catch up.

While they laughed, Miss LaDonna had already moved.

With quiet ceremony, she crossed to the conversation pit and lifted the midnight cloth from the low table.

The movement alone caught Olivia’s attention—ears snapping upright, head turning sharply. Then the smell hit her.

Oh.

Oh.

Meat. Roasted and seared and slow-cooked. Fats. Proteins. Sugars. Warm bread. Rich sauces. Familiar favorites and things she didn’t recognize but wanted desperately. Every dish prepared with care, intention, and an intimate understanding of exactly what her body needed right now.

Her stomach responded before she could say a word.

It growled—loud, deep, unmistakable.

Lenny laughed and gave Olivia a sharp, playful smack on the ass. “Go eat,” she said firmly. “Doctor’s orders.”

Olivia did not argue.

She didn’t even walk.

She launched herself across the room in a smooth, powerful leap, landing squarely on one of the cushions in the pit, sliding neatly under the table with a grace that would have startled her if she’d had time to notice it. She didn’t bother with plates. She didn’t look for utensils. Her hands were already moving, grabbing whatever was closest, tearing into it with unrestrained enthusiasm.

The world narrowed.

There was only food.

Juices running over her fingers. Teeth sinking into hot, tender meat. The satisfaction of fuel flooding her system as her body greedily reclaimed everything it had burned away. She barely paused between bites, grabbing something new with one hand while finishing the last mouthful with the other, tail thumping against the cushions behind her in unashamed delight.

Charles and Miss LaDonna watched from their chairs, exchanging fond, knowing looks.

“That’s our girl,” Charles murmured.

Miss LaDonna smiled into her teacup. “She’ll eat half the table before she even realizes she’s full.”

Across the room, Lenny leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, eyes never leaving Olivia as she devoured everything in reach.

“Good,” she said quietly, satisfied. “That’s exactly what she needs.”

And in the center of it all, Olivia ate like she had waited her entire life for this moment—body and spirit finally aligned, hunger honest and unapologetic, surrounded by people who weren’t shocked by it.

Only proud.

After a good half hour, a third of the plates, bowls, and containers emptied, Olivia finally began to slow—slightly. She didn’t stop eating, but the frantic edge softened into something more deliberate, more aware.

She looked up.

Her family sat across from her at the edge of the conversation pit: Miss LaDonna nibbling lightly at a sandwich, eyes warm and watchful; Charles cradling a steaming mug, utterly at ease; and Lenny shaking a plastic bottle of something green and foamy like it had personally offended her.

As the haze of hunger cleared just enough for Olivia to really see them, a flicker of embarrassment finally surfaced.

She paused mid-crunch on the lobster clutched in her left hand, shell splintering easily between her teeth, and opened her mouth to apologize—

“Stop.” Charles’s voice was gentle but firm.

She froze.

“Do not apologize,” he said calmly. “There is no call for it. No shame, no embarrassment. You are doing exactly what you should be doing. Your body needed to replace a great many calories quickly, and it is doing precisely that.”

Miss LaDonna smiled, the unmistakable expression of someone watching a beloved child finally eat enough. “Your instincts will be in charge most of the time for the next day or two, love. Best not to fight them.”

Lenny nodded, uncapping the bottle and holding it out. “That doesn’t mean no guardrails,” she added. “Drink this.”

Olivia sniffed it suspiciously, nose twitching like a wary child confronted with medicine.

Then her ears perked.

It didn’t smell medicinal at all.

It smelled like her forest. Cool earth. Green things. Night air.

She tipped the bottle back and drained it in one long swallow, swallowed again, and let out a small, surprised burp. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, before returning to the lobster.

“But—” she began between bites, “what do you mean my instincts are going to be in charge for—”

She stopped.

Because Lenny was very deliberately slipping out of her lab coat.

Then unzipping her leathers.

Very. Slowly.

Charles smiled into his mug. Miss LaDonna chuckled softly. “Exactly what we said,” she replied serenely. “And Lenny is right here to help you navigate it.”

That was all the permission Olivia needed.

She dropped the last fragments of lobster, moved in a blur, and pounced—burying her face against Lenny’s neck, nuzzling, laughing breathlessly as she was immediately gathered into strong arms. Olivia’s tail wagged hard enough to knock a cushion loose as she pressed closer, overwhelmed with sensation and want.

Lenny laughed, delighted, breathless herself, and then Olivia kissed her—deep and unrestrained enough to steal the air right out of her lungs.

Somewhere behind them, Charles said mildly, “Bedroom’s ready.”

That was it.

Olivia was already moving, hauling Lenny along with unmistakable intent, laughter and warmth and unfiltered instinct carrying them across the rooml. The bedroom door shut firmly behind them a moment later.

Charles rose, offered his hand to Miss LaDonna, and helped her to her feet.

As they stepped out into the hallway, he hung a small sign on the door.

PRIVACY, PLEASE.

Miss LaDonna smiled.

And the station, as it always did, quietly took care of its own.