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“I believe my father’s teams will approach from these three vectors,” she explains, fingers tracing the likely paths. “Based on his standard protocols, he’ll establish observation posts here, here, and here before committing to a full approach.”

“How can you be so certain?” Marina asks, her scales rippling with barely concealed skepticism.

“Because I’ve run these drills with him since I was twelve.” Blair’s admission seems to come easier now, days after revealing her past. “He believes in predictable patterns, controlled variables. It’s both his strength and his weakness.”

My tail lashes thoughtfully against the stone floor. “So we exploit the predictability.”

“Exactly.” She adjusts a nearby crystal to put more light on the detail of the southwestern approach. “If we position countermeasures based on where he expects us to be, we can create strategic advantages here and here.”

For the past three days, we’ve worked together improving the sanctuary’s defenses. The hunters’ retreat after our last encounter bought us more time than we expected, but we all know they’ll return, and next time they’ll be better equipped and better prepared. Her father never abandons a target, a trait she’s explained with a mixture of respect and resignation.

Volt’s massive form shifts, electricity crackling between his golden feathers. “These adjustments to the crystal arrays require precise calibration. Particularly the ones designed to disrupt their tracking equipment.”

“I can handle the technical aspects,” Blair offers, her eyes already taking on that focused look I’ve come to recognize when she’s calculatingsomething complex. “My father’s tracking systems operate on specific frequency ranges I’m familiar with.”

As the meeting continues, Ican’t help but watch her—the confidence in her movements, the precise way she explains technical details, the slight furrow between her brows when she’s thinking deeply. The mate bond feels like a silken cord between us, responsive to our proximity despite the emotional distance we’ve maintained since my revelation about Kieran and her confession about her father.

When the council adjourns, cryptids disperse to implement our defensive strategies. Blair gathers her tablet and notes, preparing to begin work on the crystal calibrations. Before I can second-guess myself, I approach her.

“I’ll help you with the eastern array,” I offer, my voice steadier than I feel.

She looks up, surprise evident in her expression as she finds me standing closer than I’ve been in days. I have to focus to keep my tail from reaching for her ankle, a habit that formed so naturally before everything changed.

“The calibration requires precise adjustments,” she warns. “It’s delicate work.”

“Good thing I have steady hands.” I extend my claws, then retract them with practiced control. “Besides, two people working will cut the time in half.”

Her logical mind can’t argue with the efficiency, though her expression tells me my sudden willingness to work closely with her has caught her off guard. We’ve been professionally cordial since my revelation aboutKieran, but our personal connection has remained in limbo—neither fully broken nor properly mended.

As we walk through crystal-lined corridors toward the eastern ridge, silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but heavy with unspoken words that press against my tongue. The mate bond pulses with each step we take together, making it harder to maintain the careful distance I’ve enforced since learning about her past.

“You’re different,” I say finally, breaking the quiet as we reach the first crystal array. “When you talk about tactical operations. More confident. Decisive.”

“Old training,” she admits, kneeling before the crystal formation. “My father believed hesitation was weakness. In tactical situations, I learned not to show it.”

My tail curls thoughtfully as I observe how easily she shifts between scientist and tactician. “It’s not just that. You seem more… integrated. The scientist and the tactician working together rather than one hiding the other.”

She pauses in her adjustments, though she doesn’t look up at me. “I spent most of my life keeping parts of myself hidden. First, from colleagues who would have questioned my objectivity if they knew my background. Then from the sanctuary residents who would have feared me if they knew who raised me.”

“And now?” My wings shift restlessly, casting shadows across the stone walls as I struggle to articulate what I’m seeing in her.

“Now there’s no point in pretending.” Her hands tremble slightly as she adjusts the crystal alignment. “Everyone knows exactly who and what I am.”

“Do they? Do you? I thinkyou are evolving, melding your past and present and have been trying very hard to prove to us, to me, that who you are now is more than who you were raised to be.”

Her eyes meet mine with a startled mix of vulnerability and relief. I see the weight of judgment she’s placedon herself—heavier than anything I or the sanctuary residents could impose.

“They know I’m the hunter’s daughter,” she says quietly. “That I grew up learning how to track and capture beings like you.”

“And they know you’ve used that knowledge to strengthen our defenses instead.” My tail moves closer to her ankle, not quite touching but needing the proximity I’ve denied us both for days. “That you’ve stood with us against the very hunters who trained you.”

Working together, we calibrate the crystal array, our movements finding unexpected synchronicity. She calculates frequencies while I adjust the physical alignment, each of us playing to our strengths without needing discussion. Through it all, the mate bond resonates between us, growing stronger with each moment of cooperation, each shared purpose.

My skin keeps betraying me, shifting to warmer crimson whenever she explains something with that passionate precision that first drew me to her. The scientist in her is fascinating, but this hybrid creature—tactical and analytical, passionate and calculating—is mesmerizing in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

As afternoon turns to evening, we move from one defensive position to the next. Each successful calibration improves the sanctuary’s protection—her knowledge of hunter technology paired with my understanding of cryptid energy creating something neither could achieve alone.

At the final array, high onthe eastern ridge where crystal formations jutfrom the mountainside like frozen flames, she struggles with a particularly stubborn alignment. The crystal refuses to lock into position, slipping from the frequency she’s trying to establish.