Page 30 of Shadow's Claim

"I'm losing myself," I confess, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Kael's expression shifts to something almost contemplative. "Or perhaps you're finding a self you never knew existed." His hand splays across my abdomen, shadows extending from his fingertips to mingle with the patterns beneath my skin. "These changes aren't destruction, Nova. They're evolution."

I don't answer, can't answer. Because somewhere deep inside, in places I'm afraid to examine too closely, part of me is beginning to wonder if he might be right.

CHAPTER12

UNEXPECTED PROTECTION

The translation workfeels almost normal, like slipping into an old pair of shoes that still fit perfectly. For a few hours, I can pretend I'm just Nova the translator again, not Nova the claimed omega with a shadow demon's offspring growing beneath her skin.

Kael has brought me to a secure strategy room within his domain—all sleek black surfaces and monitoring stations that pulse with data I only partially understand. My job is simple enough: analyze intercepted resistance communications for nuances and hidden meanings that automated translation systems might miss.

"These communications originated near the western boundary," Kael explains, his four arms moving in that unsettling perfect coordination as he manipulates shadow-screens displaying intelligence reports. "Our systems flagged unusual terminology patterns."

I keep my expression carefully neutral as documents appear before me. Three months of captivity have taught me to hide reactions that might betray my past connections. The shadow patterns beneath my skin remain calm and steady, giving nothing away as I begin scanning the intercepted messages.

My heart nearly stops when I recognize the first coded phrase.

Botanical extraction scheduled for greenhouses seven through twelve.

It's a resistance code I helped design myself, before my capture. Not referring to plants at all, but to omegas in breeding facilities—the numbers indicating priority targets. My fingers hover motionless above the translation interface as realization crashes over me. This isn't random intelligence; it's an active operation being planned right now.

"Something significant?" Kael asks, his glowing purple eyes narrowing as he studies my frozen posture.

I swallow hard, mind racing. "Resistance code," I admit, deciding truth is safer than being caught in an obvious lie. "They're planning an extraction operation."

What I don't say: I recognize not just the code but the specific operation structure. This is Purification Protocol Seven—a mission I helped develop for situations considered beyond extraction. The terminology sends ice through my veins as I continue translating, recognizing more markers with each line.

Garden needs thorough cleansing. Use advanced herbicide sequence. Salvage viable soil only.

The blood drains from my face as I read between the lines. This isn't a rescue mission. It's an elimination operation targeting pregnant omegas claimed by high-ranking shadow demons. The resistance doesn't view these pregnancies as situations where hostages need saving—they see hybrid offspring as abominations requiring termination.

With horrifying clarity, I realize what this means: if my former colleagues discovered my condition, they wouldn't see me as an asset to extract. They'd see me as contaminated. As someone carrying an abomination that needed to be purged.

My hand moves reflexively to my abdomen, where the shadow patterns have darkened with my distress. The hybrid's consciousness stirs, responding to my emotional spike with what feels like confused concern.

"Translate everything," Kael commands, all four arms now braced on the table as he leans forward, shadows gathering around his massive form. "Omit nothing."

I work mechanically, voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. Each phrase I decode reveals more of the operation I once would have supported without question. Now, those same words feel like betrayal. Like a knife aimed at my belly.

When I finish, Kael stands absolutely still, a predator processing threat assessment. "They plan to penetrate breeding facilities using chemical weapons specifically designed to target hybrid embryos," he summarizes. "While preserving human carriers for 'rehabilitation.'"

The clinical terminology makes me flinch. That could be me—"preserved" while the life inside me is poisoned. The hybrid's consciousness presses against my mind, not understanding the details but sensing my distress.

Before I can respond, an alarm pierces the room—high-pitched and urgent. Shadow screens flicker with new information as security protocols activate throughout Kael's domain.

"Perimeter breach in the administrative district," a disembodied voice announces. "Target profile matches resistance operative Constantin Reeves."

My blood freezes in my veins. Constantin? Here? My former commander and lover has penetrated the heart of shadow demon territory? His name triggers a cascade of memories—heated strategy sessions that turned into something more personal, his hands in my hair, his promises that we'd liberate humanity together.

Kael's reaction happens so fast I barely register the movement. One moment he's across the room, the next his massive form is beside me, all four arms moving with lethal purpose.

"Security override alpha-shadow-nine," he commands. The room's lighting shifts to blood-red as panels reveal hidden defense systems I never knew existed. "Activate complete domain lockdown."

He turns to me, eyes glowing with an intensity that makes my heart stutter. "They're coming for you specifically," he states, no question in his voice. "The timing is too precise."

Part of me wants to deny it, but the evidence is damning. Constantin's appearance so soon after these intercepted communications can't be coincidence. Somehow, he knows I'm here—knows I'm carrying a shadow demon's offspring.

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