Page 20

Before I can move, Vex lands at the entrance with obvious urgency. His wings snap tight against his body as he strides inside, scales already darkened to that midnight purple that means danger. Those yellow eyes find me immediately, pupils narrowed to slits.

"Felines," he says without preamble, moving past me toward weapon caches I hadn't found despite searching everywhere. "Eastern approach. Six of them."

My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline flooding through me. "From the transport?"

He nods grimly, opening a hidden panel that reveals weapons designed for his clawed hands—curved blades, projectile weapons I don't recognize, gear meant for territorial war.

"Following your scent from the crash," he explains, selecting weapons with practiced ease. "Including an alpha captain."

Captain Kain. Has to be. The leopard shifter whose amber eyes looked at me like meat for sale, whose spotted ears flattened when I tried to run, whose musky scent still makes me want to vomit. The one who talked so casually about the experiments waiting for me at the breeding facilities.

This could be my chance. If Felines attack Vex, maybe I can slip away in the chaos. I know his maps—the hidden valleys, water sources, routes toward human settlements. With enough head start, I might reach help before being dragged back.

But my hand rises to touch the blood bond marks without thinking. I've caught myself doing this dozens of times, fingers tracing the raised scars like some kind of nervous tic. These marks aren't just ownership—they're a real problem any escape has to solve.

The blood bond would mark me to any Prime who got close enough to smell me. My changed scent broadcasts my status clear as day: property of Chimeric Dominator, walking territory marker, claimed breeding stock. Under their laws, I'd be returned to Vex immediately—or worse, taken to breeding facilities if they couldn't agree who owns me.

Logic says immediate escape is too risky. But chances don't always come when convenient. Sometimes you take what's offered instead of waiting for perfect conditions that might never arrive.

"How long before they get here?" I ask, gathering medical supplies with steady hands. Whatever happens, I need to be ready for anything—treating wounds, using distractions, fighting off new threats.

"Hour, maybe less," Vex answers, strapping weapons to a harness made for his body. "Feline ground troops in unfamiliarterritory. They'll follow scent trails instead of taking efficient paths."

He's sharing tactical information like we're partners instead of captor and captive. The casual inclusion messes with my head in ways I can't afford right now.

"What's your plan?" I press, mentally reviewing escape routes from his charts.

"Show of force," he says, wings shifting as he prepares for flight. "Felines respect strength. If they think challenging my claim would cost too much, they'll retreat to report instead of fighting."

"Claim" means more than just the territory. His claim on me. The approaching Felines threaten both.

"And if they don't back down?" I ask, thinking about defensive positions I've noted.

Those inhuman eyes study me with predatory focus. "Then I remind them why Chimeric territory stays unconquered despite Council mapping efforts."

The casual promise of violence should scare me. Instead, it's just more information to file away. Captivity has changed how I think about things in ways I don't want to examine.

"Stay in the inner chambers," he instructs, moving toward the entrance. "If warnings don't work, any fighting will happen well away from the den."

I notice what he doesn't say—don't try to escape, don't contact the Felines, don't give away defensive positions. Maybe he trusts me now, or more likely, he believes the blood bond has made me compliant enough that orders aren't needed.

He's not completely wrong. The bond causes physical problems when I get too far from his concentrated scent—faster heartbeat, nausea, dizziness that makes walking difficult. Not impossible to overcome, but hard enough to complicate any escape attempt.

"Take this," he says, pulling something from around his neck—a carved stone pendant on leather, warm from his skin. "Territory marker. In case patrols get closer than expected."

I take it automatically, though accepting feels like another small defeat. "What does it do?"

"Concentrated scent markers. Shows other Primes you're under territorial protection." Something flickers across his face. "Felines who challenge blood bond claims face Council punishment. The pendant makes sure they know what kind of claim you carry."

Protection or possession—no real difference in Prime society. I slip the cord over my head, adding it to jewelry I never chose. Tools can have multiple uses, including tags for valuable property.

Vex moves to the entrance, wings spreading for flight. Sunlight through the opening catches purple highlights in his scales, making him look like some mythical predator instead of evolved alien.

"I'll be back before dark," he says. "Either with news of their retreat, or..." He doesn't finish, but the implications are clear.

When he launches from the ledge, powerful wingbeats carrying him up and away, I'm left standing between opportunity and disaster. The Feline arrival creates chances for escape—but also new dangers that could lead to worse captivity if I guess wrong.

I move through the den systematically, gathering things that might help regardless of what happens. Medical supplies for treating wounds. Small tools that could work as weapons. Information from maps and books that might help with navigation.