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His claws click against theexam table, betraying emotional turmoil despite his carefully controlled expression. “Not exactly.”

“Then what?” My professional detachment slips as frustration colors my voice. “I need to understand what we’re dealing with, Dante, and you’ve been evasive about this injury since the day I arrived.”

His gaze finds mine, and something in his expression shifts. For a long moment, we simply look at each other—scientist and Jersey Devil, both carrying secrets that have shaped us. The weight of his unspoken truth hangs between us, and I see the exact moment he makes his decision. Perhaps it’s the way I’ve trusted him with my own painful memories, or maybe it’s the mate bond urging honesty between us. Whatever the catalyst, his defensive walls crumble.

“You want the truth? All of it?”

The intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch. “Yes. Please.” Although I assume that telling me is going to be torturous for him, part of me feels relieved that he’s trusting me with what I assume is his greatest secret.

His wings shift restlessly as he seems to make a decision. “It wasn’t my mission. I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near my location that night.”

“Then why were you?”

“Because I was meeting with another Jersey Devil.” The words emerge rough with emotion. “A young one, barely an adult. One of the few others of my kind I’ve ever encountered.”

My heart constricts at the pain evident in his voice. Jersey Devils are notoriously solitary and rare, even among cryptid communities.

“It was a prearranged meeting?” I ask, setting aside my instruments to give him my full attention.

“I’d been tracking another Jersey Devil for months,” he admits, his skin darkening. “At first, it was just rumors, fleeting sightings in remote valleys. Then one night, I spotted him—young, skittish, watching me from a distance.”

“You made contact?” I lean forward, fascinated despite the tension between us.

“Eventually. Took weeks of careful approaches. Kieran—that was his name—was fearful of everything, even me.” A ghost of a smile touches Dante’s lips. “His parents were killed by hunters when he was eight. We mature faster than any other cryptid, but usually we leave the family territory to find our own when we are fifteen. He was so young, yet he survived. He’d been alone for years, never met another of our kind. Thought he was the only one until he caught my scent on the wind.”

The name resonates through me. Kieran. Not just “another Jersey Devil” but an individual with a name and story, someone who mattered to Dante.

“What was he like?” I ask softly, seeing the emotion ripple across Dante’s skin.

“Curious. Intelligent. Desperate for connection but terrified of trusting anyone.” His wings shift with remembered frustration. “I invited him to the sanctuary, hoping to convince him we could offer more than just safety—real community, a place to belong. It’s highly unusual for Jersey Devils to cohabitate, but after years on my own, I’ve come to appreciate this cave life and the safety, support and friendship I’ve found here. But Kieran, after a lifetime of hiding, couldn’t bring himself to follow me home.”

I can see it clearly—Dante patiently building trust with this lonely creature, offering the sanctuary I now call home. A lifeline Kieran wasn’t ready to grasp.

“So you kept visiting him,” I suggest, seeing the pattern forming.

He nods, tail curling tightly against his leg. “I’d check on him regularly, bring supplies and information. He’d established a small camp in a hidden valley. We were building trust. Slowly.”

“What happened?” I ask gently.

“After weeks of gradually increasing my visits, I arrived at his camp to find Apex vehicles approaching from the valley floor.” His skin darkens to obsidian as he speaks. “I tried to warn him, but there were too many of them, already surrounding his hideout.”

“How did they find him?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.

“Tracking equipment. Heat signatures, pheromone detectors—all the specialized gear I’ve seen them using around our perimeter lately. Maybe they’d been tracking me to him even though I came at different times and took different routes each time.” His wings pull tight against his back with remembered anger. “I assume they’d been hunting him for weeks, narrowing down his location.”

“You tried to help him escape,” I say softly.

“I created a diversion, drawing their fire while Kieran attempted to flee. For a moment, I thought we’d succeeded. We were airborne, almost clear of their range…”

“Then the darts,” I finish for him, the tactical approach unmistakable.

“Kieran saw the hunter aim at me—this massive weapon, clearly designed for maximum toxin delivery. He could have kept flying, could have escaped clean since they were focused on me. Instead, he folded his wings and dove.”

Dante’s voice breaks slightly as memory overwhelms him. “He hit me like a battering ram, sending me tumbling through the air just as the weapon discharged. The dart meant for my chest—meant to deliver a killing dose directly to my heart—caught him instead, full penetration through his back.”

I can see it clearly now—two Jersey Devils in chaotic flight, the younger one making a split-second decision to sacrifice everything for a connection barely begun.

“The second dart caught my wing as I tried to shield him from more fire, but by then we were both falling. He was still conscious before we hit the treetops, toxin spreading through his system faster than anything I’d ever seen. The branches slowed our fall, but we both landed hard. I gathered him in my arms. He was burning up with fever, but shook so hard with chills it was like seizures. I tried to carry him, but my wing was failing, my temperature was rising, my limbs were trembling, and the hunters were closing in.”