Page 4

CHAPTER 4

KARC

P aint fumes burn my nostrils and eyes. The acrid chemical stench masks any scent that might identify my quarry as friend, foe, or Grolgath infiltrator. My scales itch beneath the remnants of my holographic disguise, and I wipe futilely at the neon green paint dripping down my face.

The figure in black darts to the edge of my office. No hesitation. No fear. Just a perfect, graceful leap across the void between buildings.

"Impossible."

My heart pounds against both sets of ribs. No human would attempt that jump. This proves Giscard's people have found me. Why else would a Grolgath break in just to deface my office?

The black-clad form lands on a steel girder ten stories up the construction site next door. Such fluid grace. Such perfect balance. I catch myself admiring the athletic display instead of giving chase.

"Not this time, shape-shifter."

I launch myself across the gap. My enhanced muscles propel me through the chill night air. The girder groans under my weight as I land. The entire framework shudders.

My quarry stumbles, loses footing. A feminine yelp of surprise echoes off the bare concrete and steel. She catches herself on a cable, dangling precariously over the drop.

Wait. She?

The feminine curves beneath that black outfit catch my eye. No Grolgath would choose such a form - their kind lacks the finesse to properly replicate the female shape. A fact that's caused more than one infiltrator to fail their mission.

Her fingers slip on the cable. A gasp of genuine terror escapes her lips. The drop wouldn't kill one of my enemies - they'd just reshape on impact and slither away. But this intruder's fear rings true, raw and primal.

My claws flex. Every warrior instinct screams to seize her, to demand answers about her intrusion. But the defaced portrait gives me pause. What spy wastes time on petty vandalism when they could access classified files or plant surveillance devices?

The steel girders creak as I shift my weight. Her body tenses at the sound, muscles straining to maintain her grip. No shape-shifter would show such weakness. This must be human work - probably some activist making a statement about corporate greed.

The night wind whips her clothes against her frame. Such a small, fragile thing. My rage cools despite the insult to my office. Whatever her purpose here, she's no threat to Project Veritas.

I stride to the edge of the girder, my clawed feet gripping the steel with ease. Below me, the woman dangles, her gloved hands slipping on the cable. Neon city lights reflect off her black bodysuit, turning her into a shadow against the glittering urban sprawl.

"Looks like you could use a hand," I say, my voice dripping with condescension. I crouch, bringing my scaled face level with her masked one. "If I pull you up, are you going to be a good girl and behave yourself?"

Her shoulders tense. Even through the mask, I can feel her glare. "Okay, okay," she mutters, deliberately pitching her voice lower. Amateur mistake - Grolgath would never need to disguise their voices.

"All right, but if you're not good, I'll have to spank you," I warn, extending a clawed hand.

"Don't you wish," she growls, grabbing my wrist.

In a flash, she's using my arm as a ladder. Her boots dig into my scales, an odd mix of pain and sensation, as she scrambles up my arm and shoulder. Before I can react, her sneakers push off the top of my head in a move that would be insulting if it weren't so impressive.

She lands on the girder above with the grace of a cat, already darting along the narrow beam. I'm momentarily frozen, both impressed and irritated by her audacity. That move... it's almost Vakutan in its precision and disregard for danger.

I leap to the next level, the entire steel framework groaning under my weight. She glances back, her masked face unreadable, then increases her pace. The night air whips her long braid as she navigates the maze of steel and concrete with the ease of someone who's done this a hundred times.

"Just hold still!" I bark, frustration creeping into my voice as I give chase. My claws scrape against steel, sending sparks into the night. She's fast, but I'm stronger - and I have centuries of combat training. This little game was about to get serious.

I can’t help but smirk as she darts across the girder, her movements fluid, almost too human. She’s good, I’ll give her that. Fast, agile, and fearless. But she’s still human. And I’m Vakutan . This chase is entertaining, sure, but it’s already over. I’m just letting her tire herself out.

I lunge forward, claws scraping against the steel frame as I close the gap. She’s right there, just a step away, her hoodie flapping in the wind like a flag of surrender. I reach out, ready to grab her and end this little game.

And then she jumps.

My claws close on empty air as she leaps into the void. For a split second, I freeze, watching her plummet toward the ground. My heart skips a beat—no, both of my hearts skip a beat. The audacity of it shocks me. She’s not hesitating, not second-guessing. She just jumps .

Her body stretches out, arms reaching for the anchor rope dangling from the scaffolding above. She grabs it with practiced ease, sliding down the rope like a damn acrobat. I’m momentarily impressed despite myself. Only a lunatic or a professional would attempt that.

"Not so fast," I growl, my voice echoing off the concrete and steel around us. I don’t waste time watching her descend. If she wants to play this game, fine. I’ll show her how it’s done.

I step off the girder without hesitation, letting gravity take me. The wind rushes past my scales, sharp and cold, as I plummet the hundred feet to the ground. The ground rushes up to meet me, but I’ve done this a thousand times before. I land in a crouch, my claws digging into the pavement to absorb the impact. The concrete cracks beneath me, sending a spray of gravel scattering across the street.

She’s just landed, her boots barely touching the ground when I straighten up, looming over her. Her hoodie shifts as she looks up, and I catch a glimpse of her mask—black, sleek, with a small bird emblem over one eye. It’s almost cute. Almost.

"Nice jump," I say, my tone dry as I step closer. "But you’re not getting away that easily."

She takes a step back, her body tense, ready to bolt again. But there’s nowhere left to run. I’ve got her cornered.

"Yeah, well," she says, her voice low and breathless. "You’re not as scary as you think you are, lizard boy."

I chuckle at that, a deep rumble in my chest. "Lizard boy? That’s the best you’ve got?"

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes another step back, her hand reaching for something on her belt. I don’t give her the chance. I close the distance between us in one long stride, my clawed hand wrapping around her wrist before she can pull whatever stunt she’s planning.

"Let’s try this again," I say, pulling her closer. "Who are you, and why were you in my office?"

Her eyes narrow behind the mask, and I swear I can see the wheels turning in her head. This one’s a fighter, no doubt about it. But she’s out of her league, and she knows it.

She doesn’t answer, and I tighten my grip just enough to make sure she feels it. "Talk," I growl. "Or this gets a lot less fun for you."

Her hand darts toward her hoodie pocket, and I see the glint of a spray paint can. Memories of neon green burning my eyes flash through my mind.

Not again!

I grab her other wrist before she can pull the trigger, my claws tightening just enough to make her wince. She lets out a sharp hiss, like a cornered cat, and twists in my grip. For a human, she’s got strength—enough to make me work for it. I pin her arms behind her back, pressing her body against mine. The heat of her struggles radiates through her clothes, and even through my scales, I can feel the rapid pulse of her heart.

"Stop squirming," I growl, my voice low and edged with irritation. "You’re not going anywhere."

She doesn’t listen, of course. Her hips buck, her legs kick, and her elbows jab uselessly into my ribs. It’s like trying to hold onto a live wire. I yank my tie free with one hand, wrapping it around her wrists in a quick, practiced motion. She lets out a frustrated snarl, but I’ve got her. At least, I think I’ve got her.

"Let’s see who you really are under there," I say, reaching for her mask.

Big mistake.

Her wrists twist, and somehow, she slips free of the tie. How? I don’t know. Humans shouldn’t be able to do that. The spray can comes up, and before I can react, I’m blinded again. Neon yellow this time, burning through my vision like acid.

"Damn it!" I roar, swiping at my face. The paint clings stubbornly, and I can feel it seeping into the spaces between my scales.

Her laughter echoes through the construction yard, light and mocking. "I’m not impressed with your bondage skills, Lizard Boy," she calls out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I wipe at my eyes, catching a glimpse of her retreating figure as she vanishes into the maze of steel and concrete. Her boots scrape against the gravel, and her hoodie billows behind her like a cape.

"You’re not getting away from me!" I shout, but she’s already gone.

I grit my teeth, claws flexing at my sides. I should’ve tied her up better. I should’ve seen that coming. But no, I let my guard down because she’s human, because she’s small, because she’s just a street artist with a grudge.

Next time, I won’t make the same mistake.

The water from the spigot rushes over my face, sluicing away the neon paint that clings stubbornly to my scales. I exhale sharply, the cold water soothing the sting in my eyes. My claws scrape against my cheek as I wipe at the last remnants of the paint. My vision clears, but the image of her—lithe, nimble, and utterly fearless—lingers in my mind like a ghost.

“Incredible,” I mutter under my breath, shaking the water from my face. No human should move like that. She’s too fast, too agile. There’s something… other about her. Maybe she’s got Vakutan blood somewhere in her lineage. It would explain a lot. Or maybe she’s just one of those rare humans who push their limits beyond what’s reasonable. Either way, she’s not like anyone I’ve ever encountered.

A pang of guilt hits me as I think about Raven. I shouldn’t be this fascinated by another woman. Not when I’ve already felt the pull of attraction toward her. But Raven’s… different. She’s not some masked vigilante defacing my office and leaping off buildings like she’s auditioning for a cosmic circus. She’s real. Grounded. And yet, there’s something about this Blackbird that’s impossible to ignore.

I let out a low growl, frustrated with myself. It doesn’t matter. The woman in black is gone, and I’ll likely never see her again. She’s just another anomaly in a city full of them.

Then it hits me like a plasma blast to the chest.

“Damn it,” I hiss, my claws clenching into fists. She saw me. My true form. No hologram, no disguise. Just golden scales and sunset eyes. If she talks—if she exposes me—Giscard will know exactly who Kirk Stevens really is. The entire mission could be compromised.

I storm back to my office, my mind racing. The security system beeps as I enter, and I ignore the defaced portrait on the wall, focusing on the task at hand. I pull up the Veritas database on my compad, my claws tapping rapidly on the holographic interface. It takes only moments to find the file I’m looking for.

Blackbird.

Alias: Unknown.

Activities: Graffiti artist, activist.

Threat Level: Low.

Assessment: Minimal disruption to timeline. No direct action required.

“Low threat, huh?” I mutter, my lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Well, you’re a threat now, aren’t you, my little bird.”

I open the bottom drawer of my desk, rifling through the assortment of Vakutan artifacts until my claws close around the familiar leather of the Vakutan Love Harness. The supple material feels cool against my palm, and I run my thumb over the intricate stitching. It’s a relic from a different time, a different life. But right now, it feels… fitting.

“Next time,” I say softly, my voice low and dangerous, “you’re not going to get away from me so easily, Blackbird.”

The thought of her—slippery, defiant, and utterly infuriating—bound in the harness sends a bolt of heat racing through me. My cock stirs, pressing against the confines of my scaled skin. I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s a threat, a liability. And yet…

And yet, the image of Raven in the harness flashes through my mind, and the heat intensifies. Her dark eyes wide, her lips parted, her body completely at my mercy. The thought is intoxicating, but it’s also dangerous. I can’t afford distractions, not now. Not when so much is at stake.

I close the drawer with a sharp click, forcing the thoughts from my mind. Focus, Karc. Find Blackbird. Stop her before she exposes you. Everything else is secondary.

But as I sit back in my chair, the harness still in my hand, I can’t shake the feeling that this little game is far from over.