As we moved away from the eyes of the party, the clinking of glasses and idle chatter faded, leaving only the eerie silence of the corridor. I could feel Nine's hesitation behind me, but I kept moving forward, knowing he would follow. His presence was palpable, and I could feel the tension between us, thickening the air with every step.
The politician, a man of too many suits and too little compassion, walked a few paces ahead of us, completely unaware of the danger lurking behind him. I kept my movements deliberate, my nails elongating into sharp claws, each one a reminder of what I was capable of. As I approached the man, I reached out, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back with enough force to break – something atleast.
His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled toward me, but I didn't give him the chance to recover. In one swift motion, I twisted his arm behind his back, feeling the slight tremor in his body as I pressed him against the cold wall. I leaned in, just close enough for him to feel the heat of my breath on his neck.
"If you lay a single finger on him," I whispered, my voice low and cold, "I'll take your head off before you even realize you've made a mistake."
I could feel his heart racing, the terror beginning to spike as I held him in place. His breath was shallow, quick—he was just beginning to understand the gravity of his situation. I pressed my claws harder into his skin, just enough to leave a mark.
He stammered, struggling to form words, but I wasn't interested in his excuses.
"Do you understand?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, but with a deadly edge.
"Yes," he gasped, his voice trembling. "Yes, I understand."
I could feel his fear radiating off of him, palpable and thick. And then, through the scent in the air, I knew. The unmistakable warmth of urine, cutting through the air in a sharp, sour tang, told me everything I needed to know. He was so terrified that his body had betrayed him.
The politician had lost control, and it was no longer just his fear that was seeping into the air. He had peed himself.
I felt it all—the smell. I let him go, and he crumpled to the floor, collapsing in a heap. His face was flushed, eyes wide with terror, his body now betraying him in every way possible. He didn't dare look up, his shameful silence speaking volumes.
"Please," he whimpered, too afraid to meet my gaze. "I won't—won't touch him. I swear. I'll sleep on the floor. I'll do whatever you say—just please don't hurt me."
I watched him crawl away in utter disgrace, no dignity left, and felt Nine's presence at the edge of my mind. There was a quiet relief there, just a flicker of gratitude, but it was enough.
I nodded toward Nine, a small, subtle gesture, and I felt him send a pulse of thanks through the bond. It was quiet—soft—but enough for me to understand.
The politician scrambled to his feet and hurried away, no longer interested in even attempting to make contact with Nine. I let him go, and I could see the visible tremor in his step as he scurried down the hall, desperate to get as far from me as possible.
As the man disappeared from view, I turned to Nine, who was still standing just behind me. He looked at me with eyes full of uncertainty, yet there was something else there too—something softer. Something like trust.
I could feel the bond between us hum with that unspoken understanding.
He was safe. I would make sure of it.
And no one, not even the Supreme Leader, would ever hurt him again.