One of them hissed a warning, but Kat ignored it, leaning her chin against the cold metal bars. She kept her tone light, teasing, but every syllable was strategic—bait, distraction, a test of their patience.
I'll find your patterns. I'll learn your weaknesses. And then... she thought, eyes narrowing, lips curling. Then you'll wish you never laid hands on me.
Kat leaned back against the cage, scanning the room with calm, calculating eyes. Trapped? Sure. But this wasn't defeat. This was the opening act.
————————-
V crouched on the rooftop across the street, eyes scanning the dimly lit block. The city smelled of exhaust and concrete, the faint tang of rain still clinging to the asphalt. His senses were alive, every nerve humming as he traced the faint threads of disturbance Kat had left behind—the subtle signature of her presence, the faint disruption in local networks.
His eyes narrowed. The lessers were sloppy, leaving behind more than they thought. Baby powder scent, and digital fingerprints. He'd follow this trail like a predator—relentless, precise, lethal.
The old apartment building came into view. Broken mail slot, peeling paint, graffiti along the steps. He moved silently across the rooftop, landing in the shadowed alley behind it. Every movement was calculated, deliberate. His chest rose and fell in controlled rhythm, heart steady but thrumming with something deeper—anger, concern, obsession.
Inside, the faint hum of computers, the flicker of a screen through cracked blinds, confirmed it. They were here. Kat had been here. And now, they had her.
V's jaw tightened. He allowed a low growl to escape, a sound no human would dare hear and live to tell. Every instinct screamed to tear in, annihilate, and find her. But he paused, scanning, reading, waiting. Impulse without calculation was dangerous.
The scent hit him next—her faint trace lingering on the threshold, intermingled with the acrid stench of the lessers. He flexed his fingers, the faint metallic scrape of his claws echoing softly in his gloves. They'd made one mistake—underestimating her. They'd make another—underestimating him.
A growl reverberated from his chest as his eyes locked on the faint glow of screens through the glass. You picked the wrong girl, and you've definitely picked the wrong predator to follow her.
Every muscle tensed, ready. His hand twitched toward the concealed blade at his belt. Every instinct screamed to strike, to hunt, to reclaim what was his. And tonight, the city would learn exactly why no one messed with Kat... or with him.
———————
Kat's eyes flicked over the dim warehouse, noting every shift in posture, every nervous glance the lessers threw her way. Her body ached, but her mind was razor-sharp. She had learned quickly—watch, test, provoke, retreat. They were careful, yes, but rigid, predictable. A misstep here, a hesitation there... and she could exploit it.
"Seriously, do you all ever change your shoes?" she quipped, voice dripping with mockery. "All black, all stiff... it's like you're walking around in coffins."
One of the lessers shifted uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath, while another flinched. A small victory. She filed it away. Patience was her ally.
Kat tugged at her restraints subtly, testing the material again. Not enough give yet, but she made mental notes. She leaned against the bars, tilting her head in false submission, watching their reactions. Every movement of hers drew a slight twitch, a whispered command, a momentary lapse of concentration from the humans.
Good. Keep reacting. Keep showing your weaknesses. I'll use them all, she thought with a wicked grin.
And then the air shifted. A presence. Sharp, commanding, and undeniably malevolent.
The warehouse doors swung open with a faint echo that carried authority, and the temperature seemed to drop a fraction. Mr. X entered, flanked by his men, the faint smell of antiseptic and something colder trailing behind him. His eyes swept the room and landed on Kat.
"Well, well," he said, voice smooth, chilling. "Still awake, I see."
Kat met his gaze without flinching. "Of course. I wouldn't want you to think your torturing skills were effective," she drawled, smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. "Although... points for effort."
Mr. X's eyes darkened. He strode forward with deliberate calm, his movements measured, predatory. "Brave, aren't you? Insolent, even."
"I prefer... entertaining," Kat shot back, leaning slightly forward, letting her gaze flick from him to the lessers, gauging reactions. "You boys look tense. You sure you're up for round two, or should I go easy?"
A flicker of anger, irritation, curiosity—crossed his face, and his hand twitched ever so slightly. Kat noted it immediately.
"Do not toy with me, human," he said, stepping closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You will break. Humans always do."
Kat tilted her head, smirk unwavering. "You underestimate me. That's... cute."
The lessers around her shifted uncomfortably, clearly torn between their orders and the tension radiating from the two of them. Kat's pulse thrummed with adrenaline. She could feel Mr. X analyzing her, weighing her, deciding just how far he could push before she cracked.
Good. Let him decide. Let him play the fool, she thought, flexing her wrists against the metal straps, testing, watching. The longer I last, the more mistakes they'll make.
And in the shadows of that warehouse, with the cage bars cold against her skin, Kat realized something. She wasn't just surviving. She was setting the stage. And when Mr. X made his next move... she would be ready.
Learn the pattern
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