Lucien had underestimated the comment section.
This was not a tactical error he often made.
The device lay abandoned on the table, face glowing softly in the dark. He had not intended to interact further. Observation had been sufficient. The human had panicked exactly as predicted. External attention had increased. Useful data had been collected.
Then the replies began.
Lucien read them all.
Every. Single. One.
The fox was first.
The account name was something offensive—UrbanTrickster—profile picture smug, tail curled deliberately into frame.
> Hey handsome 😏 captivity doesn't suit you
Lucien's jaw tightened.
He did not respond.
Seconds later:
> Blink once if you need rescuing. Blink twice if you want company.
Lucien bared his teeth at the screen.
The wolf arrived shortly after.
Username: TrueNorthAlpha.
Predictable.
> You don't belong in a human den.
Lucien's posture straightened instinctively.
> Claim your ground or be claimed.
Lucien exhaled slowly through his nose.
I am claimed by no one, he thought, with lethal calm.
More animals joined.
A raccoon offering "escape logistics."
A cat account posting nothing but a single skull emoji.
A parrot demanding details "for the algorithm."
Lucien's tail flicked once.
Enough.
He tapped the screen.
The human interface was clumsy. Insulting. Designed for creatures with poor fine motor control.
He typed carefully.
> I am not kidnapped.
Pause.
Backspace.
That sounded weak.
He tried again.
> Situation under control.
Immediately, replies flooded in.
> That's what they all say 😢
> CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION
The fox responded directly.
> Ooo he's stoic.
Lucien felt something hot and sharp coil in his chest.
Fury.
He typed faster.
> Cease commentary.
The wolf replied within seconds.
> You speak like prey pretending to be king.
Lucien slammed the phone down.
The table rattled.
He stood, pacing once, twice, muscles coiled, instincts screaming for confrontation that could not be physically enacted.
This was unacceptable.
He retrieved the phone.
Deletion.
He would clean this mess.
He opened his own reply and attempted to remove it.
Instead, he deleted the entire post.
Silence.
For three seconds.
Then—
Error: Unable to delete. Post already shared.
Lucien stared.
Slowly.
He attempted again.
Accidentally pinned the post.
The comments doubled.
The fox posted a screenshot.
> HE PANICKED 😂
Lucien's vision narrowed.
He jabbed at the screen with escalating violence.
Blocked the fox.
Blocked the wolf.
Blocked the raccoon.
Blocked someone who was just a squirrel asking questions.
In the process, he liked a comment that read:
> That dog types like a divorced man.
Lucien froze.
He unliked it.
Too late.
Notifications exploded.
This was war.
No—this was worse.
This was public embarrassment.
He shut the device off entirely and placed it face-down on the table, as if it might still be watching him.
His breathing steadied.
Control returned.
The human shifted in her sleep across the room.
Lucien glanced at her.
She stirred.
Unaware.
Good.
The outside world would not tear her into this further.
He would handle it.
Lucien lay down, facing the door, ears alert.
Tomorrow, he would establish stricter rules.
Including one crucial addition:
No more posting.