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I nod, returning to my inventory of existing medical supplies with newfound purpose. The conversation seems concluded, temporary alliance established without fanfare or formal acknowledgment of its significance.

But something fundamental has shifted between us. Reluctant recognition of mutual benefit against external threats that supersede our personal conflict.

As afternoon fades into evening, I find myself preparing for tomorrow's expedition with methodical focus that helps quiet my racing thoughts. I wash my clothes in the natural springs that feed the cave system, the water so cold it numbs my fingers but so pure it tastes like mountain snow. I lay the damp fabric near the arrangement of warm stones Vex uses as primitive heating, watching steam rise from wet cloth like incense offerings.

The domestic routine should feel wrong, should trigger fierce resistance against this mockery of partnership. Instead, it creates breathing space where I can think clearly, can gather information that might prove useful regardless of how events unfold.

Vex returns from his evening patrol carrying fresh meat—some mountain prey I don't recognize but that smells rich and gamey. Without discussion, I begin preparing it using the collection of herbs and seasonings he's provided, while he arranges stones for the cooking fire. His movements are economical, practiced, speaking to years of solitary survival in these mountains.

The meat sizzles over flames that cast dancing shadows on cave walls. The scent makes my mouth water despite everything—I haven't eaten well since before my capture, and my body craves the protein for healing and strength. We eat in companionable silence, tearing portions with our fingers like the primitives we've become.

"How far is the western valley?" I ask when my hunger is satisfied enough for conversation. "Flight time, I mean."

"Two hours in clear weather conditions." His wings shift against his back like he's already anticipating tomorrow's journey through mountain air. "Longer if weather patterns shiftunfavorably or thermal currents prove inadequate for efficient travel."

Two hours. Far enough from the den to create meaningful opportunity for escape or intervention. Not so far that blood bond symptoms would become completely debilitating if separation occurred through circumstances beyond my control. The information catalogs itself automatically in the strategic portion of my mind that never stops calculating odds and options.

"What happens if we encounter others during transit?" I continue, keeping my tone casual despite the tactical significance of his answer.

His pupils narrow as he studies me across the fire, flames reflecting in those inhuman yellow eyes. "Blood bond marks identify you as claimed territory under Conquest Law. Most Primes respect territorial boundaries unless directly challenged through hostile action."

"And if they don't respect boundaries?"

"Then I remind them why Chimeric territory remains unchallenged despite repeated Council mapping expeditions and jurisdiction disputes." The casual promise of violence should disturb me more than it does. Instead, it registers as tactical advantage—his fearsome reputation creating a protection bubble that extends to me through the claiming marks scarred into my throat.

Later, as I settle onto the sleeping furs that have become my designated area of this underground domain, I process the day's developments with strategic detachment. Tomorrow's expedition represents my first taste of real freedom since capture—first breath of unfiltered mountain air without cave walls surrounding me, first glimpse of the world beyond these territorial confines, first opportunity to assess options beyond immediate survival calculations.

The fragile alliance we've established isn't trust. Certainly isn't partnership in any meaningful sense. But it represents the beginning of understanding between predator and prey, between captor and captive, between alpha and omega forced together by circumstances neither chose but both must navigate.

Whether this understanding leads to eventual escape or deeper entanglement remains a variable I can't predict. For now, observation and information gathering provide the only paths forward that don't lead to immediate destruction.

The blood bond marks at my throat pulse with each heartbeat, constant reminders of what's been taken from me. But they also serve as protection against worse claimants, as shields against breeding facilities where I would become anonymous property rather than valued territory.

Tomorrow we fly to the western valley as temporary allies against greater threats. What happens after depends on variables I'm still cataloging with methodical precision—territorial boundaries, weather patterns, potential escape routes, the exact parameters of blood bond symptoms and their tactical implications.

Knowledge equals survival in a world built on power I don't possess but might learn to leverage. Information is the only weapon I have left, and I intend to use it with surgical precision when opportunity presents itself.

This isn't trust. This isn't partnership. This isn't even friendship.

But it's something I can work with. Something I can build on. Something that might eventually lead to real choice instead of mere survival.

For the first time since my capture, that possibility doesn't seem entirely impossible.

CHAPTER 13

MOUNTAIN FLIGHTS

Amelia's POV

I cling to Vex's thick forearms as we slice through the mountain air, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I can feel the pulse in my throat. His black scales catch the morning sunlight, purple highlights shimmering like oil on water as we navigate between peaks that would shred any human aircraft to ribbons.

"Breathe," he rumbles, his massive chest vibrating against my back with each word. "Focus on the horizon, not the drop."

It's been two weeks since Captain Kain threatened to drag me back to the breeding facilities—two weeks of these so-called "patrol flights" that feel less like security checks and more like something I can't name. Below us, the Convergence Peaks stretch endlessly in every direction, a landscape of impossible beauty and deadly terrain. Razor-sharp summits pierce cloud layers like ancient spears, while dark forests coat the lower slopes in shadows that could hide armies.

I've memorized every detail with the methodical precision my medical training taught me. Every cave entrance, every sheltered valley, every hidden path through this wilderness. Information is survival, and I catalog it all with desperate focus.

"There," Vex says, banking left with fluid grace that presses his hard body against mine. The contact sends unwanted heat spiraling through my core. "That valley cuts between the eastern ridges. See how the pine grove masks the entrance from aerial view?"