The skies are calm still, no wind. Master's stride is even, boots quiet on the cobblestones and I match him step for step, arm right through his, tail looped loose around his wrist under the cloak.

The walk takes us through the lower markets first, stalls largely closed for the night, a few people haggle over scraps of course. Master's eyes scan ahead, calculating, while I listen for boot steps and sniff for unfamiliar scents.

Warehouse row looms up after minutes, a line of identical buildings. Number twelve's marked clear, blue tarps flapping over the roof vents and a Cartel sigil painted on the double doors. Guards patrol the perimeter, about twenty like Reed said, moving in loose pairs along set routes, two circling the front every five minutes, four along the sides dipping into alleys, the rest stationed at corners or inside the loading bays. They walk routine, bored, boots scuffing gravel, lanterns swinging low, chatting low about pay or tavern bets. Uniforms are standard corporate cut, dark gray tunics with that cartel shard embroidered on the breast, reinforced leather vests for blades, trousers tucked into boots, cloaks thrown back since the night's mild.

The corporate reality hangs thick here, these aren't street thugs, they're payroll blades, clocking shifts for a cartel backed by old money like Crimson, who sit fat in high quarter offices pulling strings. Routes feed into bigger networks. It's all layers, Sapphire vs. Cartel on the surface, but Crimson lurking underneath, squeezing turf without dirtying their robes. 

And us ? We're separate from it all, no uniform, no badge. I'm molded to his side, tail tightening around his wrist now, ears swiveling for every rustle, purring low and jagged because this is ours, the hunt, the burn, the blood waiting. We're not corporate drones, we're the blade that cuts the strings.

Master's eyes flick to mine like he can see straight into the bond's hum. He's been tracking my thoughts the whole time, of course he has, that quiet room in his head always leaves space for me to echo in there, my manic buzz feeding back to him. He doesn't say much, he just lowers his hand on my head in a firm pat, fingers dragging once from ears to nape. "There there, kitten," he murmurs.

The touch grounds me instant, "Master," I whine soft, eyes slitted up at him, but he just nods once, signal clear, focus. We move then, slipping across the open gravel.

A few rows over, the buildings thin out. The one we pick is less guarded, only two alderians at the front, different uniforms, chatting low about dice games whilst uniforms are rumpled.

Inside it smells of dust and old wood, faint chemical whiff drifting from somewhere deeper. Master's already moving, boot steps silent up the stairs to the second floor, and I follow close, thigh brushing his calf with every step, tail flicking once against his boot. The stairs creak under us but hold, no alarms or shouts happen.

Master settles by a window, crouching low, eyes scanning the routes again. I drop beside him instant, pressing my side to his, tail curling around his ankle to anchor us. My purr starts low, vibrating against his arm, claws digging light into the floorboards because this vantage is perfect, high ground.

I nuzzle his shoulder once, rubbing my cheek along the fabric, drawing his scent deep to chase the last of the crash fog. "They're lazy," I murmur against his ear, voice husky and edged, tail tightening around his leg. "Front pair's blind to the alley, sides open. We hit from here, drop down, spear the unloaders first, spark the oil trails." My claws flex, imagining the gut twist of the first thrust, blood hot on my hands.

Master's whisper through the dim loft, "Don't be a silly cat", his eyes locking on mine with that arched brow. Even in the night, my cat vision pierces clear, the faint lines around his mouth tightening in amusement, pulse steady in his neck, heat radiating off his skin. I flatten my ears a fraction, tail flicking once in mock offense, but lean into his hand still lingering on my head, purring low, rubbing my cheek along his fingers.

Below, the prey stirs, guards looping their routes, boots scraping gravel like clumsy paws on dry earth. My eyes slit narrow, locking on the front pair. Ears swivel forward, catching their mutters, the clink of crates unloading. Tail lashes slow, body coiling tighter against Master's side, claws flexing silent on the floorboards. Prey unaware, ripe for the strike, twenty alderians..

I nuzzle his jaw quick, teeth grazing in promise. "Not silly," I murmur back, voice velvet soft. "Just hungry.".

His mind slides into mine, sudden, absolute, filling every corner of that vast room he keeps so tidy. I feel him looking through my eyes, pupils blown wide in the dark, measuring the black gap between the warehouses, eight feet of nothing. The distance registers in his thoughts before I even finish the math.

I don’t wait.

Ears flat, tail lashing once for balance, I coil and spring, body launching through the open window gap. Air rushes cold against my face, cloak snapping behind me, blonde hair streaming. Eight feet vanishes in a heartbeat, front hands reaching, claws extended, spear clattering against my back. I twist mid air, instinctive, hips rolling, tail whipping hard to right me.

I hit the opposite roof with a soft thud, knees bending deep, palms slapping weathered tiles, claws digging in for purchase. The impact jars up my arms but I absorb it clean, rolling forward once into a low crouch, tail high and triumphant, ears swiveling back toward him. The bond flares hot with his quiet approval, his pride, and it makes me shiver harder than the leap ever could.

I spin on the tiles, grinning feral into the dark where he still stands, blue eyes glowing, chest heaving with the rush. My tail lashes slow, possessive arcs, fluff puffed huge from the jump. Come on, Master. Your kitten’s waiting..

The bond rips clean though. No warning, no slow fade, just gone. The vast room in my head slams shut, door bolted, lights snuffed. His thoughts vanish like smoke sucked out a window. I can’t hear the steady tick of his plans, can’t taste the calm intent, can’t even smell the faint echo of his thoughts.

Empty. My brain is suddenly, horribly empty of him. Five feet. Five feet and the bond is dead. Panic floods hot and black, drowning everything. Then he jumps. No hesitation. Boots push off, cloak flaring, body arcing.

I’m already running, full sprint across the slanted tiles, tail lashing like a whip, claws gouging furrows in the wood. Five feet. I have to close the five feet. Now. Now. Now.

He lands hard, knees buckling on the uneven roof, momentum carrying him forward. I slam into him chest first, arms locking around his neck, legs wrapping his waist in a desperate strangle. The impact sends us both crashing backward, my back hits the tiles first, breath punched out of me, but I don’t let go. I can’t. Won’t.

He collapses on top of me, heavy, stunned, head lolling against my shoulder. A low groan escapes him, weak, dazed, the sound slicing straight through my ribs. His hand comes up slow, fingers fumbling against my collar, then my cheek, like he’s trying to remember where I am.

The bond flickers back the second the 5ft are met, his thoughts flooding in, pain behind his eyes, a dull throb from the landing.

I bury my face in his neck, inhaling deep, frantic, rubbing my cheeks hard along his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, marking, claiming, drowning in the scent that was missing for three endless heartbeats. My tail coils triple around his waist squeezing until my fluff crushes between us. 

“Never again,” I hiss against his pulse, voice cracking, teeth grazing his vein. “Never five feet. Never again.” My claws dig into his back through the cloak, not to hurt, just to hold, to anchor, to make sure he can’t slip away. He’s hurt. Stunned.

But his Mine.

I nuzzle harder, licking the salt from his skin, purring louder, tail lashing wild arcs across the roof tiles behind us.

Master’s hand clamps over the back of my head, shoving my face hard into the front of his tunic the instant my purr starts climbing too loud. The fabric muffles it instantly.

I melt against him. My whole body goes limp in surrender. His fingers find the base of my ears, scratching slow, dragging just right and the sound I make is pathetic, a choked, trembling rumble that vibrates straight into his chest. 

Ears flatten under his touch, trembling, blonde hair spilling everywhere as I nuzzle deeper, rubbing my cheek frantically against the leather even though he’s got me pinned there. I bite down on the fabric.

Master shakes his head once, slow and then pushes up onto his knees. I snarl low and immediate, tail lashing hard enough to slap the tiles, claws sinking into his cloak and yanking him straight back down against me with a possessive growl that vibrates through my chest.

"No," I hiss against his ear, voice cracked. "You don't get to stand. Not yet. Not without me.".

He doesn't fight it. Instead he drops his head, nuzzling into the side of my neck, Alderian, no fangs but the motion is a pure absolute mimicry of me, his nose is dragging slow along my neck, lips brushing the dark blue collar.

"Good Master," I whisper, teeth grazing his earlobe. "My perfect, stupid, brave Master who jumped anyway." I lick his neck once in return, slow and claiming before I nuzzle deeper burying my face in his hair to drown in his scent.

He finally shifts but not away, no never away from his kitten but enough to guide us both toward the far side of the roof where we overhang a windowless gap, just a narrow ventilation slit between beams. I don't let go even then, I crawl with him.

We reach the opening. He lowers himself first, boots finding the inner wall and I follow instantly sliding down after him, legs wrapping his waist again mid descent, arms locked around his neck. The drop is short, we land soft on the warehouse floor below, dusty planks, stacked crates looming in the dark, the chemical stink thicker here but distant from the main bay.

No footsteps. No low voices of guards, they only exist outside and on the main floor below us. Up here, on this empty level the air is stale and quiet. My cat vision cuts the dark clean, crates stacked against far walls, beams overhead but no heat signatures. We're safe for now.

"Go find the scent Kitten, Reed did say this is a storage for that powder". My nose twitches hard the instant the words sink in, powder, storage for it. The chemical stink that’s been teasing the air since we dropped in thickens now, sharp and metallic. 

I drag in a deep, deliberate inhale through flared nostrils, sorting the layers, dust, old wood and there, underneath it all, the powder. Heavy. Concentrated. A whole cache of it somewhere close. My cat vision slices the dark again, no bodies, no heat, just shadows and crates. Safe to hunt.

I nuzzle once more into his neck, quick, hard rub of my cheek, fangs grazing skin in silent claim, then drop to all fours beside him, body low, tail high and flicking tip. Claws click soft on the planks as I prowl forward.

The trail pulls me left as the stink grows. My tail bushed huge now, ears pinned forward, pupils blown wide. I slink around a stack of barrels, then freeze.

There.

A heavy double door at the far end. Large source. Massive. Enough to torch the whole row if we spark it right. I spin back to Master in a fluid twist, tail whipping once in triumph, then press my whole body against his leg, cheek rubbing frantic along his thigh.

Master takes off his backpack without a sound, he kneels and opens it, dried kindling sticks, flint and steel striker, a tight bundle of pitch soaked rags, that clever little firestarter he sorted himself.

He doesn’t touch the doors. Doesn’t even glance inside. Just stands, turns, and heads straight back to the windowless slit we dropped through, hauling himself up the wall with one smooth pull. The bond snaps the second his head clears the ledge, five feet, maybe six, and the emptiness slams into me like a gut punch, raw and black and wrong.

A snarl tears out of my throat, feral and panicked, tail bushing huge as I launch after him, claws digging into mortar, legs kicking hard, scrambling over the gap in a frantic scramble. I slam into his back the instant my paws hit the tiles.

He doesn’t stop moving. Just crouches directly above the double doors below, fingers working quick and calm, prying tiles loose one by one, quiet as breathing, exposing a narrow gap straight down into the powder cache. I cling tighter, chest into his back.

He draws a crossbow bolt from his quiver, tip now wrapped in the firestarter. Flint strikes once, spark catches the starter, fire blooming and hissing soft. He raises the weapon, levels it down through the gap he made, bolt steady, fire dancing on the tip, aimed perfect into the heart of the crates below.

The fire catchs exactly where Master wants them, he fires at the dry timber beams instead of straight into the powder kegs. Sparks begin to fly across the wood, crackling soft at first but then building fast as the old dried planks get consumed by the fire. I watch it all from his arms as he picks me up, body pressed tight to his chest, my tail of course curled around his forearm in a tight grip whilst my ears are pinned forward to catch every beautiful sound of the fire spreading. The guards are however now shouting, boots pounding inside the warehouse, but the blaze is already spreading.

Master doesn't wait for the boom. His arm siimply tightens around my knees, the other locked behind my back, and he simply picks me up like I’m nothing, like i'm completely weightless, hugging me close, my face go right to the side of his neck, my blonde hair spills over his shoulder. My legs dangle over his arms as my tail thrashes once in a wild primal delight before it coils tighter around his arm. I need to mark him, completely after this savage display. 

He has other plans as he bends his knees and launches.

Eight feet of air in one clean leap. The warehouse roof rushes up to meet his boots, he lands soft, stretching his weight forward so the impact barely impacts me and then he's running again. My purr rumbles low and manic against him vibrating through both of us as he jumps again, another warehouse, another eight foot gap cleared like it's nothing. 

He keeps going. The warehouses blur into unimportant shapes, blue tarps flapping like dying flags behind us. By the time he finally slows, three buildings away, the first warehouse erupts. A deep, rolling boom shakes the night, orange light blooming bright enough to paint the night orange for a heartbeat. Powder kegs go off in chain, secondary blasts ripping through the roof, sending burning crates flying in every direction. 

Master drops to a crouch on the far roof, still holding me cradled against him, breath steady even after the run. I twist in his arms until I'm facing him fully, tail snapping around his waist twice to pin us together. My face buries deeper into his neck, rubbing slow.

The fire spreads fast, leaping from roof to roof in hungry arcs, the whole row lighting up like a funeral pyre. Guards are running blind, creatures against the fire. The manifest is safe in Master's pouch, pages tucked against his chest where I can feel their faint crinkle every time I press closer. Crimson’s little proxies just lost a fortune in alchemicals and a warehouse full of secrets. Tomorrow Reed will choke on his smirk when we shove proof in his face and demand the rest.

“You beautiful, ruthless Alderian” I breathe against his neck, really pushing my nose into it, inhaling him deeply like some spoilt needy creature. “You lit them up perfect. Made the whole wing glow just for us. Ah just for me.” I then knead his shoulders.

He inhales hard, nose pressed flat to my neck. I feel his chest expand against mine, ribs pressing, then the slow, shuddering exhale hot against my throat. My own breath hitches, turns ragged, I nuzzle deeper as I breathe him in feverish, frantic, like if I don't fill my lungs with him right now I'll suffocate.

He doesn't speak, doesn't need to, his nose drags slow up the line of my throat, inhaling again, deeper, like he's trying to pull my entire soul in through his lungs. I mirror it carrying it on, nose shoved harder into his neck, tongue flicking out to taste, then pressing flat to lap once, slow and claiming.

We stand there like that, locked together on the roof ridge. No words. No hurry. Just the slow, obsessive drag of noses and mouths along throats, inhaling each other.

I break it to nip his earlobe, fangs grazing just sharp enough to sting, then soothe it with a slow lick. “Take me home, Master,” I murmur, body trembling against his, tail lashing slow arcs behind us. “I want to taste the smoke on your skin tonight until neither of us can think straight. Let the city choke on its own ashes tonight. We've got better things to do. Or should I purr and say I have better things to do..”

He shifts me higher in his arms, one hand sliding under my thighs to hold me secure, and starts moving again, quiet leaps across rooftops, back toward the guildhall, the firelight fading behind us.