The morning light crawls through the inn’s grimy windows, the kind of dawn that knows the village is already rotten and just pretends to start fresh. I stay glued to Master’s side as we finally rise from the wreckage of last night’s ledgers, my tail coiled twice around his waist. The bond hums warm and constant between us, his steady thoughts the only thing keeping my claws from carving fresh grooves into the walls. Embercrack bitterness still coats my tongue, but it is nothing compared to the bile rising when I think of the innkeeper downstairs.

We head down the narrow stairs. My boots hit each step soft and deliberate, spear and shield left behind in the room because Master’s rule is clean, always clean, but my claws flex anyway. Master walks calm ahead of me, coin purse already in hand, cloak settled neat like nothing ever happened. I press close, blonde hair brushing his shoulder, tail never loosening its grip. The common room smells of old ale and wet wool, a few early stragglers hunched over porridge. And there they are, the innkeeper, wiping the same bar with the same filthy rag, face round and oily, eyes darting like they already know everything.

Master steps up polite. “Morning. Settling the bill for room seven. Two nights, meals included.” His voice is even, business smooth, like the ledgers upstairs don’t exist. He counts out coin on the bar, exact, no extra, no fuss, then adds a small copper for the trouble. “Fine stay. Peppers were fresh.”

The innkeeper grins that greasy grin, pockets the silver with a nod. “Always a pleasure, sir. Safe travels out of Clear View.”

My ears snap flat. My tail lashes once, vicious, slapping Master’s calf hard enough to sting. Filthy liar. His cut is written in the books. He looked the other way while wagons rolled out empty and children went hungry. Let me open him right here. The bond floods with my rage, dark, twisted heat boiling up until my fangs ache behind closed lips.

Master’s thought cuts through the bond like a whip. Heel.

I freeze mid step, tail going rigid, body locked against his side. The command lands heavy, possessive, and I hate it and love it in the same breath. My claws dig into his cloak instead, pulling him closer, cheek pressing to his arm while my ears tremble with the effort not to snarl aloud. The innkeeper clears his throat, still smiling.

Master turns to him smooth as ever, one hand settling on the back of my neck, fingers under my collar, thumb stroking the engraved master’s property like a reminder. “Apologies for my companion. Long night on the road. She’s tired. Travel does that to some.” His tone stays polite, measured, the perfect mask over the rot we both know. 

I bite back the growl, tail curling tighter around his waist until I feel his ribs shift. Tired. Yes. Tired of their lies. Tired of watching them breathe while their names sit on our wall. But I obey, barely pressing my face into his shoulder, purring low and unstable through the bond, claws still pricking fabric. The innkeeper nods quick, mutters something about rest and weather, then turns back to his rag like the moment never happened. Humans. They always turn away. Always pretend the stink isn’t there.

Master guides me out the door without another word, hand never leaving my neck. My tail stays wrapped, ears half flattened but flicking forward now, listening to the village wake up around us, shutters creaking, dogs barking, all of it pretending to be alive. I cling harder as we step into the damp street, body trembling with the near miss, lovestruck and spoilt and ready to snap again.

The streets of Clear View feel narrower in daylight, every alley a throat waiting, every shuttered window hiding another ledger of lies. I stay plastered to Master’s side the whole way, tail curled possessive around his wrist, ears swiveling at every footstep that isn’t his. The bond thrums steady, his cool focus feeding straight into my skull while my own thoughts churn dark and manic, images of spears through guild hearts, claws raking names off walls, all of it barely caged by his rule. We head back to where the job started.

Master knocks once, polite and precise. The door opens to the same people who gave us the lead three nights ago, hood up, eyes still shifty, the kind of human who hires blades to trim the edges of his own rot without ever touching the blade himself. I bare fangs behind Master’s shoulder, tail lashing once low and angry, but I keep my mouth shut. Barely.

Master steps inside calm as ever, me glued to him so tight our cloaks overlap. The room is dim, one lantern, one table, same maps pinned to the wall. The hirer gestures us to sit. Master doesn’t. He pulls the three slim ledgers from his cloak and sets them down neat, spine to spine, like handing over groceries.

“Proof,” Master says, voice flat business. “All of it. Voss, Pike, Lorne, the Rivermouth cuts, the false tallies, the quiet removals. Everything written in their own hands. The guild’s been skimming thirty percent for three seasons. Farmers are starving while the barges run fat.”

The hirer flips the first book open, eyes scanning fast. He doesn’t look surprised. Of course he doesn’t. Humans never are when their own cancer is laid bare; they just price it. “Clean work,” he mutters, turning pages. “No loose ends ?”

“None.” Master’s tone stays even, professional, the perfect mask. “We watched, we took, we left them breathing. As agreed.”

I feel the flicker in the bond, Master’s hidden disgust, the same fatalism I saw last night, but he keeps it locked down. My tail tightens around his wrist until his pulse jumps against my fur. They pay us to prove the rot then keep the rot breathing. Hires the knife to sharpen itself. 

The hirer counts out the coin, gold and silver, heavy in a leather pouch, slides it across the table. “Full fee plus bonus for the extra ledgers. You’ll be gone by nightfall ?”

Master pockets the purse without counting. “By dusk. Job’s done.”

The hirer nods, already closing the books like they’re just another ledger to file away and forget. “Good. Clear View stays quiet. Guild stays running. Everyone eats.”

Everyone eats except the ones who starve so you can. My thoughts snarl through the bond, unstable and possessive. I shift closer, tail wrapping higher around Master’s forearm, claws pricking through his sleeve in tiny warning nips. The surges, dark, twisted, lovestruck and controlling and for a heartbeat I imagine lunging through the hirer’s throat, watching him bleed over his own proof. But Master’s thought brushes mine calm and firm, Clean. Done. I purr instead, low and manic, ears flicking soft against his shoulder while my body trembles with the effort of restraint.

Master turns for the door. The hirer doesn’t even look up as we leave. Just another transaction in a world built on transactions. Humans. All of them. Paying to document their tumours then hiring us to pretend we cut them out.

Master’s voice cuts the damp air, calm and low. “Aliza… do you remember the scent of the local guild leader ?”

My ears snap straight up, tail giving a sharp, excited lash that slaps against his thigh. Of course I remember. Cat instincts never forget. I tilt my head, blonde hair falling across one eye, fangs flashing in a quick, feral grin. “Yes, Master. Burned into my nose. Why ?”

He reaches over without breaking stride, fingers threading through the hair between my cat ears, scratching just right. “Good girl.”

The words hit with euphoria down my spine. My tail shoots straight up then curls tight around his wrist. My cheeks flush hot under the collar, blue eyes going wide with pure lovestruck delight. “Master… say it again. Please. I’m your good girl. Only yours. I’ll track anything for you. I’ll hunt the whole rotting world if you call me that.” My voice comes out breathy, unstable mixing with pure spoilt adoration until I’m trembling against him.

He keeps his hand on my head a moment longer, steady and owning, then nods once. “Track it. Find where he really sleeps when he’s not playing lord in the big house.”

I don’t need telling twice. My nose lifts. The scent is faint but clear, stink cut with something sweeter, heavier, cheaper perfume and the musk of recent sweat. Not the grand manor we saw before. No. This trail bends west toward the cluster of smaller houses tucked behind a mill. My claws click softly on the damp ground. Master follows calm, crossbow slung easy under his cloak, his thoughts brushing mine cool and focused while mine race hot and feral.

We move quiet through the overgrown hedges, sandstone pebbles crunching soft under our boots. The scent grows stronger, male scent mixed with female sweat, spilled wine. No guards. Not even a dog. Just a modest timber house with shuttered windows, smoke curling lazy from the chimney and a back door left carelessly ajar like someone inside feels safe enough not to care who sees. My ears pin forward, tail lashing once in sharp irritation as the full picture hits. Mistress. Of course. The great local guild leader, pillar of the guild, signer of farmers’ ruin, sneaking off to some side piece’s bed while his wife probably counts coins in the big house. Dodgy little human games. No guards because guards ask questions, and questions are bad for secrets.

I crouch low at the edge of the yard, pulling Master down with me, tail curling tighter around his ankle now, claws digging into the soft earth. My voice drops to a hiss through the bond. He’s in there. Right now. I smell him, sweat, fear, pleasure, that same ink and greed stink. And her. Some village girl or widow he pays to keep quiet with extra pepper and coin. No guards. No lights in the front. Just them, tangled up while the village starves on his orders. My fangs ache, ears flat with disgust and excitement both. Humans. Cancer that can’t even keep its rot in one house. I want to kick the door in but Master’s rule is clean. So I stay crouched, body pressed flush to his side, purring low and unstable, waiting for his word while my tail lashes possessive little whips against his leg.

The house sits quiet in the grey light. A soft laugh drifts out the cracked window, female, breathy, followed by a males deeper grunt. My claws flex harder into the dirt. Filthy. Typical. He writes death in ledgers by day and hides here by night. I nuzzle closer to Master, cheek against his shoulder, blue eyes glowing with that dark, twisted love. “Your good girl found him. What now, Master ? I can be quieter than the rain if you let me slip inside…”

Master’s voice is barely more than breath against my ear. “Mhmmmm… cats are silent predators after all.”

The words send a shiver racing down my spine. My ears flick once, delighted, and I press harder into his side, purring low and unstable through the bond. Yes. Silent. Deadly. Yours. My tail gives a slow, possessive squeeze around his thigh, claws pricking just enough to remind him who owns who. I am his good girl. His predator. And right now the prey is inside, tangled and stupid and trusting the walls to keep their filth private.

We wait.

The afternoon drags into a long, grey dusk. I keep silent. Master’s rule. Clean. Patient. So I breathe shallow through my nose. The lantern inside dims. Voices drop to murmurs. Then nothing.

Night falls proper. Perfect cover. My cat vision highlights the dark, every crack in the timber, every loose stone in the path, every leaf trembling on the hedge. The bond stays open and tight, Master’s calm thoughts steady against my racing pulse. Now.

I move first.

No sudden rush. Every motion is fluid, deliberate, the way only a cat girl can move when the hunt calls. My boots find the softest patches of mud, toes testing before weight shifts. Tail held low and still, tip barely twitching to keep balance. Cloak drawn tight so no fabric whispers. I glide across the yard, shield arm tucked close, claws out but silent on the ground. Master follows exactly in my footsteps, close enough the bond never stretches, far enough I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. The bond thrums with shared focus, his steel calm, my feral hunger, braided together into one perfect weapon.

The back door is still ajar, just as we saw. I don’t push it wider. I slide through the gap sideways, shoulders turning, hips rolling, blonde hair brushing the frame without a sound. Inside the air is thicker. Ears forward, listening, two sets of breathing, deep and regular. One heavier and one lighter.

I step onto the floorboards. They creak once, soft but I freeze mid motion, weight balanced on the balls of my feet, tail frozen in a perfect arc. Nothing changes inside the room. The snoring continues. Master slips in behind me, crossbow already in hand but bolt not nocked, just ready. We stand there together in the dark hallway for ten long heartbeats, letting our eyes and ears take in every detail.

The house is small and cheap. One main room with the bed against the far wall, a table littered with empty wine bottles and half eaten bread and a single chair. No guards. No servants. Just the local guild leader and his secret toy, thinking distance from the big manor would keep them safe. Arrogant. Stupid.

I move again, slow, glacial. Each step placed with cat precision, heel first, then toe, testing the board before committing weight. My tail stays low, brushing the floor just enough to feel any vibration. I reach the edge of the bed first.

I crouch beside the bed. The bond floods with my dark, twisted thoughts, I could open his throat right now. One claw. One slice. No sound louder than the rain. He’d never wake. But Master’s rule holds me. Clean. No extra bodies. No witnesses.

Master’s thoughts slide into my skull, cool on the surface, but underneath… Sharp. Deliberate. A slow, cruel smile I can feel even without seeing his face.

They think they’re safe he sends through the bond. Wrapped in each other while the village is corrupt on their orders. Listen to him snore. Like a pig in silk. I want to hear the exact moment he realises he’s not the biggest predator in the room. Slow at first. Let him wake just enough to feel the steel. Let him understand. Then finish it. No screaming. No mess beyond what we choose. Clean… but not kind.

A shiver races down my spine. My ears flatten, then flick with manic delight. Yes, Master. Make him feel it. Make him know it’s us. I press harder against him, cheek to his shoulder, purring low and unstable while my tail lashes once in eager little whips. The bond feeds me every dark thread, his enjoyment of the power, the way he savours the helplessness. Humans. Arrogant enough to document their rot, stupid enough to think four walls and a warm body would protect them.

I lean over, nose inches from his throat, breathing in that greasy guild stench one last time. Master’s thought brushes mine again, darker, almost affectionate in its cruelty. Do it, kitten. Nice and slow. Let him feel the cut. I want to watch him wake just long enough to know he’s finished.

My tail curls tighter around his waist in answer. Then I strike.

The motion is smooth, practised, cat quick but deliberately measured. My claws slice across is throat in one clean, deep arc, left to right, starting just under the jaw and drawing through the soft flesh with surgical precision. Skin parts like wet parchment. The first hot rush of blood spills warm over my fingers. His eyes snap open, wide, confused, then flooding with raw animal terror as the pain hits and air whistles through the new gap in his windpipe.

I don’t pull back. I stay there, blue eyes locked on his, fangs bared in a twisted, lovestruck snarl while my tail lashes slow and victorious behind me. Through the bond I flood Master with every detail, the exact warmth of the blood, the way his pulse flutters weaker with each heartbeat. 

His gaze finds mine for one horrible second, recognition, horror, the sick realisation that the cat girl from the shadows has come to collect. Then his eyes glaze. The kicking slows. His body sags, heavy and limp.

Master then moves without hesitation. Crossbow set aside, he draws a dagger from his belt, quiet, efficient. The woman is still asleep, oblivious, her breathing unchanged. Master leans over her from the other side of the bed. One hand clamps gently over her mouth, just enough to muffle, not enough to wake her fully. The blade flashes once, clean and deep across her throat in a single practised stroke. Her eyes fly open in the same instant wide, terrified.

Master keeps his hand over her mouth, making sure the last bubbles of air have stopped, then withdraws the dagger and wipes it clean on the edge of the sheet. No extra cuts. No extra mess. Just two clean throats and two quiet corpses.

The room falls still.

Both gone. No witnesses.

Master doesn’t answer aloud. His hand settles on the back of my neck, fingers curling under my collar, thumb stroking the engraved words master’s property as if to remind me who I belong to. 

Master’s thoughts slid into mine first, cool steel laced with that deep, noir disgust. Look at them. Two humans whom pretended to run the world. He wrote down every theft, every quiet murder, then crawled into some cheap bed. Humans. Every last one of them.

I lashed my tail once, hard, claws pricking his side through the cloak. Exactly. Filthy, arrogant pigs. They carve their names into ledgers while farmers starve and then hide in mistresses’ beds like that makes the blood disappear.

Master’s hand settled on the back of my neck, fingers curling under my collar. They build empires on stolen bread and cheap perfume, then act shocked when the knife finds them in the dark. The whole village is the same, smiling, counting coins, writing down their sins like receipts. And the worst part ? Tomorrow some other human will step into his shoes and start the ledger all over again.

An hour later Clear View was nothing but a fading smear of lantern light on the northern horizon. The forest south of the village had taken us in proper now, thick stands of old oak and pine, the ground is now soft underfoot. Just a clear night sky pricked with stars and a moon. The air smelled clean and green, sharp with pine resin and damp earth, nothing like the pepper rot and blood we’d left behind. My tail stayed coiled twice around Master’s waist, possessive and warm while my ears swivelled forward, catching the soft rustle of a fox somewhere off to the left and the distant, lonely hoot of an owl.

I pressed closer as we walked. The bond hummed steady between us, his calm thoughts brushing mine like a slow stroke down my spine. Good girl. You tracked him perfect. 

We reached a little clearing after another half mile, a small hollow ringed by ferns and a fallen log worn smooth by weather. Master stopped without a word, dropped his pack, and settled on the log with that easy, owning grace he always had. I didn’t wait. I climbed straight into his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

“Master…” I murmured. “You called me your good girl again back there. I felt it through the bond. Your kitten did good, didn’t she ?” My ears twitched forward, blue eyes half lidded in pure adoration while my tail gave a happy little lash that stirred the leaves around his boots.

His hand came up automatically, fingers threading through the blonde hair between my cat ears. “Mmm… right there. Don’t stop. Your pet needs this after all that rot.” My tail curled higher, tip brushing the back of his neck like I was marking him right back. The forest stayed quiet around us, just the soft creak of branches in the night breeze and the occasional rustle of something small in the undergrowth but none of it mattered.

I shifted pressing closer to him. “You’re mine, Master. All of you. The way you went through the bond made me so wild and happy. No one else gets to see that side of you. No one else gets to feel your kitten purr like this.” My ears flattened briefly then perked again as his fingers kept scratching. “If anyone tried to take you away, some rival, some guild pig, even the wind itself, I’d gut them slower than. I’d make them watch me curl up in your lap afterwards and listen to me purr while they bled out. Because this is mine. This forest, this night, your hand on my ears… all mine.”

Master’s thoughts slid back through the bond, warm and steady with that low, amused affection. My fierce little pet. My wife. My kitten. The words made my tail shoot straight up then wrap even tighter.

I climbed higher in his lap, knees digging in. “Carry me the rest of the way tonight ? Or let me stay right here like a proper pet while you rest. I’ll keep watch with my cat eyes. I’ll keep you warm. I’ll keep everyone else away forever.” My claws kneaded his shoulders now, gentle but insistent.

His free hand settled on my lower back. “That’s it… pet your Aliza.”

The forest stretched dark and endless ahead, but I didn’t care. We had coin in the pouch, blood on our hands, and the bond wide open between us.