Page 8 of Shadow's Claim

His lower right hand produces a small device I recognize with horror—a heat accelerant injector designed for breeding facilities. The sight of it breaks through my carefully maintained composure.

"No!" The word tears from my throat before I can stop it. "That's against Conquest regulations for interrogation!"

A shadow of what might be amusement crosses his alien features. "You're citing Conquest law while breaking omega registration rules?"

The hypocrisy of my objection hangs between us, but desperation overrides logic. Heat accelerants don't just speed up the process—they intensify it beyond bearable limits, driving omegas into a frenzy that destroys all rational thought.

"Please," I whisper, hating the pleading note in my voice. "Not that."

Kael studies me with those unsettling purple eyes, the accelerant poised in his hand. "If you volunteer information, I won't need this."

The cold calculation behind his words is worse than any threat. He doesn't need to force me—just wait for biology to do the work for him. But the accelerant would guarantee I'd break within minutes rather than hours.

"I can tell you about the suppression network," I offer desperately. "Distribution routes. Manufacturing locations."

His head tilts slightly. "Starting to negotiate? Interesting approach."

"Not negotiation. Cooperation." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but buying time is my only option. "The suppressants are damaging omegas. The resistance doesn't care."

For a moment, I think he believes me. Then those purple eyes narrow.

"Your heartbeat just spiked. Your face shows you're lying." The accelerant device moves closer to my arm. "You're trying to feed me little bits of information while protecting what really matters. It's what I expected."

The shadow restraints tighten almost imperceptibly, and I realize with sinking dread that he's been testing me the entire time—analyzing every response, cataloging every reaction with centuries of experience in reading human deception.

"Your mental defenses will break down just like your body already has," he promises, setting the accelerant aside. "It's just a matter of time."

The reprieve from immediate chemical torment offers small comfort. Without the accelerant, I have hours rather than minutes before heat overwhelms me. But the outcome remains the same—complete surrender, just on a slightly delayed timeline.

Kael's four arms move in elaborate patterns as he activates a shadowy interface I can't comprehend. Data materializes in the air around us—surveillance footage, communication intercepts, supply chain analysis. He's built a comprehensive case against me, piece by painstaking piece, long before today's capture.

"Omega extraction operations using translator credentials," he notes, highlighting footage of me entering buildings that coincide with documented disappearances. "Suppressant distribution through cultural exchange programs. Resistance messages hidden in translation verification systems."

My carefully constructed world collapses with each revelation. He knows everything—not just my omega status, but every resistance operation I've touched over three years. The question isn't what I'll reveal under interrogation, but what remains hidden at all.

"How long have you been watching me?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Those purple eyes fix on mine with unsettling intensity. "Personally? About seven and a half weeks. Our intelligence unit spotted unusual patterns in translator movements about six months ago."

Six months of surveillance. Six months of thinking I was clever while walking deeper into their trap with each passing day.

"Your security measures were excellent," he adds, the professional acknowledgment somehow more disturbing than condemnation. "Out of seventeen suspected infiltrators, you had the most convincing cover identity."

"Then why not arrest me sooner?" I ask, genuinely puzzled despite my dire situation.

"You were worth more to us free," he explains with chilling practicality. "Following you led us to three more resistance cells. Your communications gave us encryption keys to monitor the wider network."

The full horror of my unwitting betrayal hits like a physical blow. I've been leading them to resistance operatives for months without knowing it. Every precaution I took, every security protocol I followed—all ultimately serving Shadow Dominion intelligence.

Fresh waves of heat wash through me, my temperature rising as pre-heat progresses relentlessly. The shadow restraints feel like ice against my burning skin, creating a torturous contrast that draws involuntary whimpers from my lips.

Kael observes my increasing distress with clinical interest. "Your heat is progressing normally despite years of suppressant use. Impressive resilience."

His scientific detachment infuriates me, momentarily cutting through the biological fog. "I'm not your lab experiment!"

"No?" Shadow tendrils extend from his hands, hovering just above my flushed skin. "You're much more valuable. A resistance operative with omega biology and exceptional language skills. Perfect for studying memory extraction during heat vulnerability."

Memory extraction. The euphemism chills me despite my rising temperature. Shadow demons can sometimes access human memories directly during moments of extreme emotional or physical states—a process rumored to be excruciating and occasionally fatal.

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