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The entire operation disrupted the natural energy flow of the ruins, making my lifelines throb beneath my skin, a constant irritation like rough fabric against a fresh wound. The lifelines along my forearms reacted to the energy violations around us, but I kept the reaction contained, suppressing any glow that would have been visible through my blue skin. Control of one’s lifelines was basic training for Shadow Canyon youth; even in pain, we did not reveal our energy signatures to potential enemies.

“Section four needs maintenance,” the guard commander barked, his voice bouncing against the ancient stone walls. The human’s voice carried the artificial authority of someone who had power only through Hammond’s patronage. “You two, get those crates over there.”

My tail remained motionless as I nodded with practiced deference, the muscles locked in rigid control—a discipline honed through decades of Shadow Canyon training. The appendage, nearly as long as my leg, contained enough strength to break a human’s spine, yet now served as the most visible indicator of my submission. Days of planning had brought us to this moment.

Timing would be essential. We moved to the designated area, a junction point where power conduits interfaced with an ancient control node. The connection was crude, unstable—exactly what we needed.

The smell of ozone intensified here, burning my nostrils with its acrid tang, and the fine hairs on my arms lifted in response tothe excess energy flowing through improperly shielded conduits. My vision detected the faint blue aura of escaping energy—invisible to human eyes but clear to mine—surrounding the junction.

Zara’s skin reacted to the energy concentration, the silver lines beneath subtly more visible at the edges of her rolled-up sleeves. She positioned herself carefully, using her body to block the guards’ view of the ventilation access panel. Our eyes met briefly, a wealth of communication passing between us without words—the culmination of days of planning.

“Now,” I whispered to Zara as we set down our loads, the word shaped less by sound than by the movement of my lips, the barest exhalation carrying it to her ears alone. I reached for the power coupling, deliberately misaligning the connectors.

The metal was hot against my fingers, vibrating with the energy flowing through it. The result was immediate—a burst of sparks erupting from the junction, followed by a high-pitched whine that cut through the ambient noise of the work site. The bitter scent of burning insulation filled the air, stinging my sensitive nose and making my eyes water slightly.

“Malfunction!” I called out, stepping back as if startled, allowing genuine alarm to color my voice. The discharge of energy had been stronger than anticipated, the jolt traveling up my arm and making my lifelines flare painfully beneath my skin. “Unstable energy signature!”

The diversion worked perfectly. As the guards rushed forward, shouting for an engineer, boots heavy against the metal flooring, Zara slipped behind the adjacent ventilation panel. Her movements flowed smooth and practiced—the efficiency of someone accustomed to operating in tight spaces.

I positioned myself to block any direct line of sight, my body a blue barrier between her and the distracted guards. Themuscles across my back tensed, ready to move at the first sign of detection.

The junction continued to spark, drawing more attention as a small flame erupted from the damaged insulation. The scent of smoke added to the cocktail of industrial odors. A klaxon began to sound, its wailing alarm adding to the chaos—a perfect extension of our planned diversion.

Twenty seconds. That was all she needed. I monitored the surrounding area, senses heightened to their maximum acuity.

My hearing sorted through the layers of sound—the alarm, the shouted orders, the hiss of the malfunctioning junction—tracking the position of each guard through their footsteps and breathing. My peripheral vision remained fixed on the security drone hovering near the ceiling, its camera rotating as its programming decided whether to maintain its patrol route or investigate the disturbance.

The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue—not for myself, but for her. The sensation was unfamiliar, unsettling. Shadow Canyon warriors were trained to disregard personal safety, to focus solely on the mission.

Yet here I stood, my primary concern fixed on a marked human female who just weeks ago I would have considered an abomination, a threat to everything my clan protected. The panel behind me clicked shut as Zara finished loosening the ventilation grid fasteners—preparing our escape route for tonight. The sound, imperceptible to human ears amid the chaos, registered clearly to mine.

She moved back into position with commendable stealth, her breathing only slightly elevated. “Step away from that junction!” A guard approached, weapon raised, his finger uncomfortably close to the trigger.

The artificial light reflected off the barrel of the energy pistol, creating a glint that tracked across my vision. His face wasflushed with the excitement of potential violence, pupils dilated. “Get back to your assigned area!”

We complied immediately, moving away from the maintenance area without resistance or excessive speed. Zara’s expression remained carefully neutral, though I could detect the slight upward curve at the corner of her mouth—satisfaction at a mission accomplished. The plan had worked perfectly—until I detected it.

A faint mechanical whirring, barely audible even to my sensitive hearing. One of Hammond’s micro-surveillance drones, no larger than a human’s thumb, hovering near the ceiling strut directly above the ventilation panel. Its lens rotated, focusing and adjusting.

The device wasn’t part of the normal security complement I had memorized during our previous work details. New. Unexpected. A deliberate addition to this critical area.

Had it recorded Zara’s actions? I couldn’t be certain, but the risk loomed too large to ignore. As we passed beneath it, I calculated angles and timing, muscles gathering with anticipation.

The tiny drone maintained position approximately three meters above us, its rotation programmed to cover the entire junction area. When the nearest guard turned to address another worker, distracted by the continuing alarm, I struck—a precise, almost invisible movement.

My tail whipped upward, extending to its full length in a motion too fast for human eyes to track. It connected with the tiny drone with a subtle crunch that only my ears could detect. The impact was controlled, crushing only its optical sensor while leaving the unit technically functional.

To any monitoring system, it would register as a momentary malfunction, not deliberate sabotage. The damaged drone wobbled, then continued its patrol path with a blind sensor,its flight pattern slightly erratic as its stabilization system compensated for the minor damage.

No alarm sounded. No guards noticed. The entire interaction had taken less than a second—a testament to the reflexes Shadow Canyon training had instilled.

Zara glanced at me questioningly as we returned to our assigned positions, her gray eyes sharp with intelligence. A small vertical line appeared between her eyebrows—her characteristic expression of inquiry.

“Neutralized,” I murmured, barely moving my lips, the word carried on an exhale rather than voiced. I made a subtle gesture with my hand, fingers forming the clan sign for “watching eye” and then “blinded”—communication methods developed for situations where even whispers might be detected.

Her markings briefly responded beneath her skin—acknowledgment and perhaps appreciation. I felt an answering warmth in my own lifelines along the primary channels of my chest and arms. The sensation of connection between us had grown stronger over the past days, unsettling but increasingly useful.

Where once I would have found such attunement to a marked human objectionable, I now recognized its tactical advantage. We resumed our labor, moving through the remainder of our shift with studied indifference. The malfunctioning junction had been repaired, the alarm silenced, and the work site had returned to its normal rhythm of exploitation and violation.