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Amelia clings to the cliff face fifty meters below my position, moving with careful precision along the treacherous path. Her emergency pack weighs her down. Her pregnant body struggles with the physical demands. But she moves forward with the same stubborn determination that's defined every moment since I first claimed her.

Pride and terror war in my chest. Pride at her courage, her resourcefulness, her refusal to surrender despite impossible odds. Terror at how vulnerable she looks against the vast mountain face, one wrong step from death.

Above her, a Gargoyle circles with patient menace. Stone wings beat steadily as he positions for the perfect angle to drop and claim his prize. From his vantage point, he can see everything—her location, her slow progress, the limited options available to someone trapped on a cliff face.

Below, Kain's scent grows stronger as he realizes his mistake and backtracks to find her true path. She's caught between aerial threat and ground pursuit, with nowhere to go but forward along an increasingly treacherous route.

Unless I intervene.

The decision requires no thought. I fold my wings and dive, ignoring the protests from my injured appendage as I build speed toward the Gargoyle. He sees me coming—stone head turning with geological slowness as I close the distance between us.

But Gargoyles aren't built for aerial combat. They're siege weapons. Endurance fliers. Their strength lies in patience and overwhelming force, not the split-second maneuvering that aerial fighting demands.

I strike him from above and behind, claws extended to full length as I rake across his wing joints. Stone chips fly like sparks as my attack finds the vulnerable junctions where even Gargoyle flesh yields to sufficient force.

His roar shakes the mountainside. We tumble together, locked in combat as we fall toward the valley floor far below. Stone fists pound against my ribs. My claws seek the soft spots between his armor plates. Neither of us can gain decisive advantage while falling.

At the last possible moment, I break away. My wings snap open, catching air just enough to turn fatal fall into bone-jarring impact against the lower slopes. The Gargoyle has no such option—his damaged wings can't support controlled descent.

He strikes the valley floor with enough force to crack stone.

I don't wait to confirm the kill. Already I'm climbing back toward where Amelia continues her desperate traverse. But movement below catches my attention—more Council forces emerging from concealed positions.

They're everywhere. The entire valley floor crawls with enforcement teams. Feline trackers. Canine scouts. Additional Gargoyle support positioned at every possible escape route.

This was never a simple extraction. This is a full military operation.

And Amelia is caught in the center of it.

I roar my challenge across the peaks—the sound echoing from stone face to stone face until the entire mountain range rings with Chimeric fury. Let them all hear. Let them understand what they face when they threaten what is mine.

My territory. My mate. My child.

They want a war? They'll have one.

But first, I have to reach her. The path she's following leads toward a bottleneck—a narrow passage between two cliff faces that offers the only route toward the valley floor. If Council forces reach that chokepoint first, she'll be trapped with no escape.

I push my damaged wing beyond its limits, climbing toward her position with single-minded determination. Blood loss makes me dizzy. Pain clouds my vision. But none of it matters compared to the sight of my pregnant mate clinging to a mountainside while enemies close in from every direction.

She chose to fight. Chose to run rather than surrender. Chose to trust the escape route I prepared despite every reason to believe herself abandoned.

Now it's my turn to choose.

I can't fight them all. Can't protect her from every threat. But I can give her what she needs most—time and distraction while she reaches safety.

Even if it costs me everything.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, it brings strange peace. This is what true claiming means. Not possession, but protection. Not ownership, but responsibility.

She is mine to defend. Whatever the price.

I bank toward the Council forces below, wings spread to their full intimidating span as I prepare to meet overwhelming odds. If this is my last flight, I'll make it count.

For her. For our child. For the future they represent.

Run, Amelia. Run and don't look back.

The mountain will remember this day. The day a Chimeric alpha chose love over survival, protection over preservation.