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His claws click against the exam table as emotion threatens his control. “In his final moments, he wasn’t afraid. He smiled, actually smiled, and said, ‘At least I got to flywith family once.’ Then he pushed me away, begged me to go, said someone should live to tell others that connection among our kind was possible.”

The image of Kieran’s final smile, of a young Jersey Devil finding peace in his last act of connection, makes my chest ache with grief for someone I never met but now feel I knew.

Dante’s gaze meets mine, filled with a grief so raw it steals my breath. “I didn’t want to leave him,” he whispers. “But he begged me to save myself. The last thing I saw was hunters surrounding him as I escaped into the trees.”

The pain in his voice makes my chest ache. In that moment, I don’t see the powerful, sarcastic Jersey Devil who rescued me from Apex, but someone carrying a burden of guilt so heavy it’s been poisoning him as surely as the toxin in his wing.

He reaches into a small pouch at his waist, withdrawing something I hadn’t seen before—a curved black horn, broken at the base. “This broke off when he hit the ground. I went back to the crash site when it was safe. This is all that remains of him.”

The relic of another Jersey Devil—one he failed to save—strikes me with its significance. He’s been carrying this physical reminder of his failure all this time, even as the poison from that encounter slowly ate away at his system.

“That’s why you didn’t tell anyone the truth.” The realization comes with painful clarity. “You blame yourself for his death.”

“I should have insisted he come to the sanctuary sooner, shouldn’t have let him stay alone out there.” His voice hardens with self-recrimination. “He wasn’t ready to trust, and I respected that instead of pushing harder. My patience cost him everything.”

My fingers tremble as I replace the cap on the antivenom vial. “I’m so sorry, Dante.”

As our gazes connect, it’s as though I can feel all of the pain swirling around his heart. Maybe it’s the mate bond, or maybe it’s just my affection that allows me to have such empathy for him.

I realize the injection I drew is still lying nearby.

Suddenly my divergent brain clicks into gear. Everything around me fades as realization hits me. The fever and chills aren’t a typical reaction to the venom my father was working on.

While I worked on venom formulations, he spent countless hours with viral samples, particularly the Nipah virus in fruit bats. I had questioned why he was so focused on accelerating viral mutation rates, but he’d been evasive, dismissing my curiosity with vague references to “expanded applications.”

He designed his weapon not just to wound, but to ensure slow, inevitable death.

No wonder I’m not getting the results I’m expecting. The microscope I have here isn’t powerful enough to see a virus. But a general antiviral combined with the antivenom should work.

The world comes back into focus as I become aware of Dante calling me. “Doc, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” I assure him.

“What happened? You look like you zoned out on me there.” Worry is evident in his voice and the look in his garnet eyes.

“Now that I understand what happened, the symptoms you just described indicate that aviruswas used with the venom formula. That’s what I’ve been missing. You just gave me the final piece of the puzzle. I can reformulate your injection. Once I give it to you, the antivenom/antiviral should begin working immediately.” My clinical words fail to mask the relieved emotion beneath.

His clawed hand reaches for mine, catching my wrist before I can retreat behind science again. “We’re fighting your father’s poison,” he says quietly. “But we’re also fighting for Kieran’s memory. For what he believed was possible.”

“Connection,” I whisper, understanding dawning. “He was searching for others like you. For belonging.”

“And died trying to protect the first one he found.” Dante carefully returns the broken horn to its pouch, but his hand lingers there. “I won’t let his sacrifice be for nothing.”

The broken horn. The hunter’s poison. The Jersey Devil and the scientist who spent her childhood learning to destroy his kind. Unlikely allies in a battle that feels increasingly personal for us both.

“Your father doesn’t know what he’s created,” Dante says finally, his skin shifting to that unique iridescent shade I’ve never seen him display with anyone else.

“The toxin?” I ask.

“No.” His eyes meet mine with unexpected intensity. “Us.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dante

The map of the mountain spreads before us in the war room, each defensive position marked with glowing indicators that pulse in rhythm with the sanctuary’s heartbeat. Though tension still lingers between us after Blair’s revelations about her hunter background, we’ve found an uneasy alliance in our shared purpose of protecting the sanctuary. The tactical planning has given us neutral ground where our expertise complements each other, even while personal trust remains fragile.

I stand across from Blair, my wings partially extended as I study the terrain model she’s created. I can’t stop my skin from shifting between crimson and darker shades as I absorb the tactical information she presents.