His breath was a harsh rasp that sounded too loud to the sensitive ears that twitched among the mussed strands of his ebony hair. His shockingly pale blue eyes seemed almost white as they glowed slightly in the dark while he crouched in the alley, his claws digging into the concrete below his feet.

Felix’s head jerked to the side as something metal skidded across concrete; an empty soda can by the sound of it, knocked sideways by a heavy foot. The gun held tightly in his hand, he leapt to his feet and shot wildly in the direction of the noise.

A heavy grunt of pain was his reward. Fluid cursing in a heavily accented voice rarely heard in the three cities followed, a deep guttural growl to them that told Felix the owner of the voice was a Strain. Most likely a jungle cat, because it was too smooth to be a wolf. Felix was lucky with that; if it was a wolf, he’d be royally fucked, because they would have caught his scent and he never would have been able to catch them off guard like that.

The Strain growled as Felix darted behind a trash bin to avoid the hail of gunfire, listening to the staccato beat of the bullets from the automatic weapon hitting the metal. His breath was coming faster as he checked his own gun, cocking it back to get rid of the empty shell and slipping the clip out.

Two bullets. That was all he had left. His head hit the metal bin as he swore under his breath. There were more than two of them, he knew that; he’d escaped a Ziya, Justin fucking May of all people. That son of a bitch was as vile and vindictive as they got, and Felix had been unlucky enough to annoy his first Ziya, little Mary Ramsey, into handing him off as a present.

Felix’s growl vibrated in the air as he snapped the clip back in and pushed the slide forward, smiling at the solid click of the next bullet snapping into place. The automatic weapon stopped as the heavily accented voice filled the alley again. Drawing in a deep breath, Felix tucked into a roll that put him low and fast, whipping the gun out to shoot again.

His aim had always been shit, but he got lucky that time; blood sprayed, and the Strain fell as blood gushed from the new hole in his head. Felix’s grin was fierce as he came to a stop against the opposite wall, chambering the next bullet as he listened to voices scream in response to his latest shot.

It was hard to tell how many voices there were, a hectic bunch shouting over each other as they tried to find him. Felix shut his eyes and concentrated on his ears. Their twitching stopped, the ears perking as he carefully listened. Counting as each different voice spoke.

When he found his number, he swore and gave up on hiding. Eight men was enough to find him no matter how hard he tried, especially since he was almost certain there was a wolf with them. Full grown, at least eighteen, and domesticated- Felix was only thirteen, still feral, and didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting away from a mature wolf.

The howl of the wolf made the fur on the back of Felix’s neck bristle, his ears flattening against his head as he dashed into one of the side alleys. He was too scared to be careful about it; bouncing off the wall instead of stopping, knocking things over in his desperate rush to escape.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Felix didn’t have the advantage of the jungle cats’ eyes; he couldn’t see well enough in the pitch black of the seedy alleys of the Helos’ side of town. He nearly pitched himself over more than once, his breath dragging harsher through his dry throat.

The soft beeping of his comm in his ear shocked him; his legs tangled up beneath him, and he went sprawling. The concrete tore into his knees and palms and he started to scramble to his feet, only for a heavy, booted foot to push him back down.

“Stay.” It was a jungle cat’s smooth, purring voice, calm and confident.

A low whine slipped out of Felix’s throat as he froze, eyes shutting tight. He’d been caught. He was screwed. Strains who tried to run didn’t have the pleasure of being put to death; he’d probably be thrown in the pits, forced to fight like a dog for the amusement of the Nola. He barely even knew how to shoot a gun, still had his tail- there was no way he was going to survive it.

“Hush! Shit, kid, keep your fucking mouth shut. Piss your pants if you want, but don’t you dare give away our position.”

The voice didn’t speak out loud, but through Felix’s comm. His eyes went wide as he reached up to the bump behind his ear, the small circle of raised flesh that marked the chip. Nothing happened when he tried to turn it off; the faint buzz of an active call remained, and laughter rolled through his head as the boot was removed from his back.

“How?” Felix sprang to his feet, grateful to be speaking through the comm; his throat was ragged, and breathing hurt- his voice was probably shot.

The Strain shot Felix a wild grin, and he got his first good look at the man. Man? No, boy. He couldn’t be much older than Felix, tall and lean. His hair was a shimmering pale gold where it fell against the stark black of his jacket, which was cut to allow his long golden tail the freedom to lash through the air. A lion, with the sharp teeth and the golden fur that was so rare that seeing one free made Felix think he’d bashed his head a little too hard with that last fall.

“Noz.”

The lion had only said one word, but it was more than enough for Felix to understand. The young, feral Strain was an assassin. And not just any assassin, but one in the most feared guild. Even the Ziya of the three cities were afraid to go against them. And one of them had come for him.

Felix’s heart was pounding in his throat as he took a step back, tail between his legs and another low whine filling the alley. The lion’s golden eyes grew wide. “I told you to shut- damn it!” he whirled as the shouting voices filled their alley. Moving impossibly fast, he drew a gun from a holster at his hip. Three shots went off, fast enough that they almost overlapped, and the men in the mouth of the alley fell.

“Move, idiot!” The lion spoke aloud again, his voice pitching to a deep growl as he turned back to Felix.

He didn’t need be told twice, turning and racing for the other end of the alley. The lion barked directions; Felix followed them blindly, turning when the other Strain told him to, ducking and skidding along the ground when the assassin shot down men who came into the twisting alleys in front of them.

The light as they came out onto a main street was blinding. Felix balked at the sight of the crowds, the people shooting him strange looks as he came to a dead halt that almost tipped him over again.

“Come on.” The lion grabbed his arm, steering him into the middle of the heavy crowd.

Only in the Helo quarter was the city so damnably busy at night. People pressing together, rushing to get the seedier sides of their business done in the very early hours of the morning when most of the Strains were protecting sleeping Nolans. The lion steered Felix right through them; his smile was bright and innocent enough that any gazes that moved to them flicked away, barely noticing the softly rounded ears that were mostly hidden by his artfully mussed hair.

“Where are we going?” Felix’s question went through the open comm link as he tugged lightly, trying to get the lion to ease up his grip- it was going to leave a bruise.

The lion tightened his grip instead, a faster clip to his pace as they neared the edges of the crowd. “That’s a secret. Put this on.” He reached into a pocket of his jacket and handed Felix a long, wide strip of black silk.

“Uhm…”

“Over your eyes,” the lion said, his head giving a slow, exasperated shake.

Felix rolled his eyes at the taller Strain; it wasn’t like he’d been clear. He could have easily meant any other part of his body. “With one hand?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Walk in front of me.”

Felix hesitated a moment; a lion could easily skewer him with his claws from behind. Or shoot him, and Felix wasn’t sure he’d be fast enough to get out of the way after what he had seen in the alleys. So he moved in front of the lion, matching their paces. The lion’s hands moved swiftly, wrapping the silk in front of his eyes, then under his chin and around over the top of his heads to cover both his human ears, and the soft tufted ones on top of his head. It neatly blocked out the two senses that could have given him a clue to where they went. All he was left with was his sense of smell- but even a wolf’s keen sense couldn’t track their own scent through a busy city with an assassin who was obviously trying to keep him from knowing where they went.

At one point they paused, and the lion shoved him into an empty crate with a growled, “Stay,” vibrating through the comm link.

Felix was sorely tempted to run, but he didn’t. Not only did he know he wouldn’t get far before the lion shot him. But the more secretive the lion was, the more curious Felix got. What reason could the lion possibly have, unless…

Felix’s question was answered when, twenty minutes or so later, he was roughly shoved through a door and down onto his knees. He had to stay there for long enough that he started to shift uncomfortably, his hands trapped between his knees as his ears began to itch where they were trapped under the fabric.

It got bad enough that he could have cried with relief when the silk was whipped from his head- except that he found himself staring into the sharp brown eyes of a wolf that was very obviously an alpha. “This is the one?” The man’s voice was the deep growl one would expect of a wolf, even though he looked perfectly calm as he leaned back to give Felix a good look at his lean body, which was covered in scars that were plainly seen on his bare chest and creeping down to where they were hidden by his jeans.

“Mhm. That Ziya escapee you wanted. He was shit, but he was bold.” The lion stood behind the wolf, his hands behind his back, his posture stiff and formal. So respectful that it told Felix exactly who he was dealing with.

The leader of the Noz looked Felix over with those sharp eyes, raking a hand back through his soft brown hair. He was completely domesticated, no sign of ears, tail, or fur; even his nails and teeth were blunt and human. “Was he? That bodes well. Think this could work, Gold?” he glanced back at the lion, an open, trusting smile on his face.

Gold’s mouth turned down in a thoughtful grown as he directed his gaze up to the ceiling. “Fought. Listened. Pretty fast… yeah, I think so.”

“Good. My eyes are as sharp as ever then. So, pup. How would you like to join the guild?” The wolf’s grin widened until it was a dare, almost threatening.

Felix hesitated, weighing his choices. Considering he had no idea where he was taken, if he said no, he was sure they’d just let him free. In which case he’d probably be shot or captured by the Strains working for that damn Ziya. If he agreed, he’d be protected from them. And more than that, he’d learn how to protect himself. If he could be anything near as good as Gold had been… he’d never have to worry about the Ziya again.

Felix made his decision as fast as he always did, on a whim. A smile curving up his mouth to bare sharp teeth as he looked up at the guild leader. “Sounds like fun,” he said, his voice light and cheerful.

If he had known, then, exactly what kind of hell he was going to be put through later- he might have made a decision. But he was happily oblivious in his youth, and he would enjoy every damn second of being an assassin until it proved to be his downfall.