Page 44

I can't sleep.

Neither can Vex. He stands at the cave mouth, wings partially extended as he tastes the air for any scent the storm might carry. His scales ripple with tension, the purple highlights more pronounced when he's agitated. Every few minutes, his head tilts slightly—listening for sounds I can't hear.

"How long before they can move?" I ask, wrapping a fur around my shoulders as I join him.

"Dawn. Maybe later if the wind doesn't die down." His voice carries that low rumble that makes my bones vibrate. "But not much later."

The certainty in his tone makes my stomach clench. I press a hand to the slight swell of my belly, feeling the flutter of movement that's become more frequent. Our child growsquickly—hybrid development creating changes I can only guess at based on my medical training.

By morning, the downpour has gentled to a steady drizzle. Gray light filters through the entrance, and I know our reprieve is ending.

Vex spreads a hide map across the stone table, its surface worn smooth by years of use. Every mark, every symbol tells a story of territorial knowledge earned through countless patrols. I lean over it, studying the terrain with the same intensity I once used for anatomical diagrams.

"Show me," I say.

His claw traces the eastern ridge—a jagged line of peaks that look deceptively simple on the map. "Gargoyles approach from here. Direct flight path with updrafts strong enough to support stone bodies."

I follow the path with my finger, calculating distances, elevation changes. "How many?"

"Two specialist binders. At least three support." His claw taps a narrow passage between towering cliffs. "But they'll have to funnel through this ravine. No other approach offers the wind patterns they need."

The tactical situation becomes clearer as he explains. Gargoyles are powerful but predictable—their stone physiology requires specific atmospheric conditions for sustained flight. Unlike Vex, who can navigate any weather, they need thermals and updrafts to maintain altitude.

"Their binding technology," I say, pieces clicking together in my mind. "It targets nerve connections between brain and wing muscles."

"Temporary paralysis." His wings twitch slightly—an involuntary response that makes my chest tighten. "Five-meter effective radius for full incapacitation."

"But the equipment has vulnerabilities." I retrieve supplies from our medical cache, mixing compounds with practiced precision. "Neural disruptors work by broadcasting specific frequencies. If we can scramble those frequencies..."

The mixture I create looks innocuous—a pale powder that smells faintly of copper and herbs. But the components, when combined with the electrical activity in Gargoyle binding units, will create enough interference to disrupt their targeting systems.

Vex watches me work with something like approval. "How close do you need to get?"

"Three meters. Direct contact with their control units." I seal the powder in small pouches, each one carefully weighted for throwing. "Usually worn at the hip or shoulder."

His expression sharpens. "Dangerous."

"Everything about tomorrow is dangerous." I meet his gaze steadily. "This gives us options."

We spend the next hours setting traps throughout the ravine approach. Vex's knowledge of mountain engineering combined with my understanding of anatomy creates a deadly combination. We position loose rocks at precise points, create trip-wires that will trigger cascades at exactly the right moment, and identify choke points where his aerial superiority becomes absolute advantage.

The work is physical, demanding. My growing belly makes some positions awkward, but I push through the discomfort. Vex hovers constantly—not restricting my movement but ready to catch me if I stumble, lift me when reaches become too high, steady me when loose stone shifts beneath my feet.

"You don't have to—" I start to say.

"Yes, I do." His hands span my waist completely as he lifts me to reach a higher anchor point. "You carry my child. Your safety is my responsibility."

The casual possessiveness in his voice should irritate me. Instead, it sends warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with physical attraction. Somewhere between captivity and partnership, his protection has become comfort rather than constraint.

By afternoon, we've prepared as much as possible. The ravine bristles with hidden traps, carefully positioned to channel any approaching force into predetermined kill zones. Vex's aerial advantages are maximized, escape routes identified, contingencies planned for every scenario we can imagine.

It's not enough. It's never enough when facing Council forces.

Back in the den, Vex leads me through passages I've never explored. The cave system extends far deeper into the mountain than I realized, branching into a complex network of tunnels, chambers, and hidden exits that speak to decades of careful preparation.

"Emergency routes," he explains, indicating handholds carved into a vertical shaft. Faint daylight glows at its distant top. "This opens onto the northern face. Invisible from outside unless you know exactly where to look."

I examine the shaft, calculating the climb difficulty with my current condition. Challenging but manageable if necessary. "How many exits?"