The wait stretches on, long minutes. I stay crouched on the garret windowsill, tail swaying slow pendulum arcs, blue eyes locked on the two men inside.

  Master stands below, one shoulder against the warehouse brick, arms loose at his sides. To any passing drunk he looks bored, another rich Alderian killing time with his catgirl pet after a long night of whatever rich men do. My ears flick toward him every few heartbeats, catching the soft rhythm of his breathing. The bond hums steady between us.

  Then he moves. Not toward the window. Not toward the door. Sideways, casual, unhurried. My tail snaps straight up. Ears pin halfway, then flick forward again. A low, involuntary growl starts in my chest, too soft for the men inside to hear, loud enough for Master to feel through the bond.

  He doesn’t pause. He just keeps walking. I drop from the sill in perfect silence, knees bending to absorb the fall, claws scraping stone for half a heartbeat before retracting. I prowl after him. The jealousy burns hotter than any scratch.

  Him.

  Not the ledger. Not the trap. Not the job we were paid to do but the rooftop man. Some stranger with a crossbow string. And Master is curious about him.

  The bond flares, his calm curiosity threading through my rising storm. It only makes it worse. I want his thoughts on me. On the way my tail curls when he scratches the base. On the purr that starts when he calls me good kitten. On the blood I’d spill for him without blinking. Not on some shadow perched above us.

  He reaches the side wall of 19. Brickwork rough, ivy dead and brown clinging in patches. A rusted drainpipe runs vertical, good handholds. He doesn’t climb. Just stands there, head tilted back slightly, looking up at the roofline like he’s admiring the architecture.

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  Then he turns to me. His hand lifts, palm open, fingers loose, the same invitation he’s given a thousand times. I surge forward before I can stop myself. Drop to all fours for the last stride, shove the top of my head hard into his palm. My purr kicks up, deep, possessive, almost angry, vibrating through his fingers as he settles them behind my ear. He scratches once, slow, firm and then leans down until his lips brush the sensitive fur at the base of my right ear.

  People stare.

  A pair of passers stagger past the lane mouth slow, eyes widening. An Alderian man pressing his mouth to his pet’s ear ? It’s backwards. It’s wrong. Pets nuzzle. Pets beg for scratches. Masters don’t lower themselves. Whispers ripple, soft, scandalised. One of the men mutters something about “spoiled beasts” and “no discipline.” The other just stares, mouth slack.

  Master doesn’t care. His breath is warm against my ears when he whispers. “I’m curious about the one on the rooftop.” My tail lashes once, hard, whipping his calf before curling tight around his ankle in a possessive coil. Jealousy coils hotter. I bare my fangs against his wrist, light, warning and then press my whole face into his palm, rubbing hard, scent marking, trying to drown out whatever fascination he’s feeling for that stranger above us.

  "Me" I send through the bond. "Look at me. Think about me. Not him."

  His fingers tighten once, reassuring then slide down pressing against my collar. "Soon, kitten." The bond pulses warm but it doesn’t erase the burn. He’s still looking up. Still curious.

  He steps closer to the wall. Hand trails the brick, testing. Then he starts climbing, slow like he’s done this a hundred times. No hurry. No tension. Just that calm ascent.

  I follow.

  I don’t use the pipe. I leap, higher, faster, claws sinking into brick, pulling myself up in a scramble. Tail out for balance, ears pinned forward, blue eyes locked on his back.

  rward, blue eyes locked on his back.