The night went slow on that rooftop, Merchant Gate's torches flickering like dying embers below us while Master held me close, his voice trailing off into the quiet. I stayed curled in his arms the whole time, tail wrapped around his wrist, face pressed to his neck, breathing him. Eventually he carried me down the same way he'd brought me up and we slipped back to the guildhall without a word to anyone.

  The room was still a wreck from the guards kicking the door in nights ago, but Master didn't care. He dumped his cloak on the chair, stripped down to basics, and pulled me into bed like it was routine. I clung the whole night but he slept solid, arm heavy over my waist. Through the bond it was that same vast room again, quiet and empty, but warmer now, like he'd left the door open for me to prowl.

  Morning soon came, Master woke first this time, sliding out from under me without a sound. I whined and reached for him, claws hooking his tunic, but he just patted my head once, firm, grounding, and muttered something about getting moving. I scrambled after him, dressing quick, spear and shield strapped on because you never know. Breakfast was whatever stale bread the hall kitchen shoved at us, I ate double, tearing into it with my teeth while pressed to his side, tail flicking against his boot under the table.

  The day dragged and by afternoon the embercrack crash hit me hard, limbs heavy, ears drooping, but still I didn't complain. Just leaned on him more, rubbing my cheek on his arm and drawing strength from his steady pace.

  Evening rolled in and we headed back to the Black Anchor early. The tavern was busier tonight but the back room was waiting, same as before.

  The security goons were at the archway again, four of them, same faces. They spotted us coming and went stiff, hands twitching near hilts, eyes flicking away quick. Yesterday's show was still fresh, I guess me flipping in his lap, belly up and whining for rubs like a housecat in front of them all startled them. They were off put, alright. Not scared exactly, but uncomfortable, like they'd seen something private they shouldn't have and couldn't scrub it from their heads.

  Master didn't slow, just nodded once as we passed. They parted without a word this time, no blocking, no grunts about invitations. One even stepped back extra far, giving us space like we carried plague. I couldn't help the grin that split my face, fangs flashing as I pressed closer to Master, tail tightening around his wrist. Let them squirm. Let them remember who owns the room before we even sit.

  Reed was already there, sprawled central on the round couch again, a half empty bottle on the table and fresh rings glinting on his fingers, like he'd spent our gold already. His smirk was back.

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  Reed poured three glasses, sliding one our way. Master ignored it. I didn't even glance, still banned from drinks, and the denial made me pout out loud.

  "Alright," Reed said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. " Cartel's not some fly by night crew. They've got three main drops coming in weekly, two by marsh, one forest from the west. Half the crates are lined with false bottoms, weapons, dust, whatever pays best."

  He pulled a folded map from his vest, spreading it on the table. Crude ink lines marked routes, X's for warehouses, names scrawled beside them. "Backers? That's the juicy bit. Not just some rogue traders. Word is they're bankrolled quiet by Crimson, yeah, those ones. They want to squeeze Sapphire out without open war, use cartel as proxies. Plausible deniability. If Sapphire hits back direct, they claim clean hands."

  I leaned forward over Master's shoulder, ears pricking, tail lashing once against his side. Crimson, big players, old money, the kind that owned half the councilors in fancy robes. This wasn't just turf squabble, it was layers, the kind of corporate knife fight that left guilds bleeding slow.

  Reed tapped a warehouse X. "But here's the hook. Cartels got a shipment coming tomorrow night, big one, direct from Crimson contacts. If someone... interrupted it, say, burned a warehouse or lifted the manifest, it'd hurt. Bad. Force the cartel to scramble, maybe expose more." His eyes flicked between us, calculating. "I'm not asking charity. Do that, bring me proof, ledger pages, seals, whatever and I'll give you the full list, every runner, every safe house, every bribe paid to city watch. Enough to gut the Cartel root and stem. Sapphire pays big for that kind of win, yeah?"

  Typical fixer play, dangle half the info, tie the rest to a job that risks our necks. He thought he was clever, turning us into his blades while he sat safe. Through the bond I felt Master's calm, that quiet weighing of odds, no spike of anger, just the slow turn of gears.

  I couldn't hold back a low growl, claws digging into Master's thigh through the fabric. "You want us to stick our necks out for your bonus info?" My voice came out husky, edged. "After making us wait a day ?"

  Reed shrugged, smirk holding. "Business, kitten. Risk for reward. You two look like you handle risk fine."

  Master's hand settled on my waist, fingers pressing once, steady, wait. He leaned forward slight, voice cool. "Details on the shipment. Guards, timing, layout."

  Reed grinned wider, sliding a scrap of paper across. "Midnight tomorrow. Warehouse twelve warehouse row, building marked with blue tarps. Twenty Cartel blades, maybe more. Cargo's crated alchemicals, flammable as hell if you know how to spark it. Easy burn if that's your play."

  He sat back, pouring himself another drink. "Clock's ticking. You in?"

  The room hung quiet except for distant tavern noise leaking through the curtain. I nuzzled harder into Master's neck, purring jagged, tail squeezing his waist because whatever he decided, I'd follow, burn the warehouse, gut the guards, drag the manifest back in blood if that's what it took. The map lay there, routes staring up like veins waiting to be cut. Tomorrow night just got interesting.

  Master picked up the scrap, folding it slow. "We'll see."

  Reed chuckled. "That's a yes in this city."