Page 6 of Shadow's Claim

"Fascinating. Most omegas in pre-heat proximity to compatible alpha pheromones demonstrate immediate submission behaviors. Your resistance indicates unusual psychological conditioning."

"Or maybe I just don't find four-armed monsters particularly attractive," I snap, clinging to anger as an anchor against the rising tide of unwanted biological response.

A sound emerges from him that takes me moments to identify—something like a chuckle, deep and resonant.

"Attraction is irrelevant to biological compatibility," he responds, shadow tendrils resuming their exploration. "Your omega receptors have already recognized suitable alpha presence."

As if to prove his point, the tendrils slip beneath my clothes, finding the damning evidence of slick already soaking through my undergarments. The contact sends shock waves through my system. My back arches against the restraints, a whimper escaping despite my best efforts to remain silent.

"Resistance operatives train to withstand standard interrogation," Kael continues, moving to the shadowy interface on the wall. "They cannot train omega biology to reject alpha claiming. Evolution ensures survival through reproduction regardless of individual preference."

Data materializes in the air before him—my translator file, assignments, locations visited. Then additional information appears—surveillance footage of me entering buildings flagged for monitoring, timed perfectly with omega extractions and resistance activities.

"We've been tracking you for weeks," he reveals, four arms manipulating the data displays with fluid precision. "Your careful deception drew attention precisely because it was so perfect. Real beta translators make occasional mistakes in protocol. You never did."

The revelation hits me like a physical blow. All my carefully maintained covers, the meticulously calculated routines designed to make me forgettable—they became the very thing that marked me as different.

"The other resistance members captured today were merely bait," he continues, turning back toward me. "You were the primary target."

Cold horror washes through me. I led them straight to our network. The people I was meant to protect now endangered because of my capture.

Kael approaches the platform again, all four hands positioned around my restrained form. His shadow manipulation creates a microclimate around us—temperature dropping to contrast with my overheating skin.

"Your heat will progress rapidly after years of chemical suppression," he says, purple eyes studying my reactions with scientific precision. "The accelerated biology will make resistance interrogation unnecessary. Your mind will surrender along with your body."

One massive hand moves to my face, thumb brushing across my cheek in a gesture that might seem almost gentle under different circumstances.

"I find myself curious about your resistance network's structure," he continues, voice dropping to a register that resonates through my chest. "The psychological profile that enables an omega to resist natural biology for personal ideology. The methods used to manufacture military-grade suppressants under Conquest restrictions."

His touch lingers, sending unwelcome warmth through my system. "These questions are particularly relevant to my current investigation into resistance chemical production facilities."

Despite the fogging of my mind, I recognize the deliberate information drop—he's telling me exactly what he wants to know, priming my subconscious before heat-madness makes resistance impossible.

"Rest while you can, little translator," Kael says, withdrawing his touch. "When your heat fully manifests, we will have much to discuss about your resistance activities."

He moves away, leaving me restrained on the platform. The shadow tendrils withdraw from my body, but the damage is done. My skin burns with increasing sensitivity, my mind growing hazier as pre-heat intensifies without chemical barriers.

Through the mounting biological betrayal, one thought remains crystal clear: I've been caught in darkness more complete than any shadow. The enforcer hasn't claimed me yet, but it's only a matter of time before my body's demands overwhelm any remaining resistance.

The worst part isn't the capture or the coming interrogation. It's knowing that soon, very soon, I'll be begging for the very thing I've spent years fighting against.

And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

CHAPTER4

INTERROGATION

Time becomesfluid when you're strapped to a claiming platform in pre-heat. Minutes stretch into small eternities, then collapse without warning. I drift between hyperawareness and foggy disorientation as my body wages chemical warfare against my mind.

The room's permanent twilight offers no clues about time passing in the world above. When Kael returns, his massive form materializes from the wall itself, shadows parting like curtains to admit their master.

"Your temperature has risen almost two degrees," he announces without preamble. "Heart racing. Hormone levels spiking. Impressive how well you're holding up, considering how long you've been on suppressants."

His matter-of-fact assessment sends a fresh chill through me despite the growing heat beneath my skin. Shadow demons don't just see and smell—they measure everything, missing nothing.

"In a secure room beneath the Midnight Courts," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Will the tribunal be notified of my arrest?"

One of Kael's four arms makes a dismissive gesture. "This interrogation stays off the record."

---