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“There are no ‘alterations’.” My frustration breaks through scientific detachment. “Just growth. Just recognition of the truth your grief hasn’t let you see.”

The accusation hits its mark. His composure cracks further. “Don’t you dare invoke grief as though you understand—”

“I understand perfectly.” Standing straighter, I feel Dante’s presence through the mate bond, giving me strength. “You lost Mom, and instead of processing that loss, you channeled everything into hunting cryptids. Into teaching me to fear and hate them. Into building weapons instead of bridges.”

“I protected you!” His raised voice echoes across the clearing.

“And I love you for wanting to protect me.” The truth surprises us both. “But I don’t need protection from Dante or the sanctuary residents. I need you to see them as I do—as people deserving of respect and dignity. As the family I’ve chosen.”

The word “family” makes something shift in his expression. “Family. You consider these creatures your family now?”

“Yes.”

His shoulders straighten with resignation. “Then I’ve truly lost you.”

“Not lost.” Taking a careful step forward. “Just watching me become someone different than you expected. Someone who carries your scientific precision and analytical mind, but applies those gifts to building understanding rather than weapons.”

For a moment, conflict wars in his expression—the scientist recognizing logical argument versus the father who can’t accept his daughter’s choices. Then his face hardens into familiar resolve.

“This conversation is over.” He steps back, hand reaching toward his coat pocket. “I see now that direct dialogue won’t be effective.”

The gesture triggers immediate alarm. In my ear, Volt’s voice comes sharp with warning: “Defensive positions. Possible concealed weapon.”

“Dad.” My voice carries both warning and plea. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Blair.” And he does look genuinely sorry, which somehow makes it worse. “But sometimes protection requires difficult measures.”

As his hand emerges with a small device, movement explodes from the tree line—Dante landing between us with wings fully extended, his normally crimson skin pure obsidian with protective rage. My father stumbles back, momentarily shocked.

“That’s far enough,” Dante growls, tail lashing with barely contained fury. “Whatever you’re planning stops now.”

“The specimen himself.” My father’s scientific assessment returns, eyes narrowing. “Fascinating territorial display. Exactly as the research predicted.”

“His name is Dante,” I say again, moving to stand beside him rather than behind his protective wings. “And this isn’t territory he’s defending. It’s partnership. I’m his mate. By choice, not biological imperative.”

“We’re not your research subjects.” Dante’s voice carries controlled rage that ripples across his skin in waves of darkness. “And whatever weapon you’re reaching for won’t work this time.”

“Not a weapon.” My father holds up a small crystal device. “A recording device. Evidence of what I’ve observed here for further analysis.”

I recognize the lie immediately. “Crystal harmonics disruptor. Designed to temporarily incapacitate cryptids through nervous system interference. But it won’t work, Dad.”

I produce a small black box from my pocket—something Volt and I created in anticipation of this exact scenario. Pointing it at his crystal, I activate my disruptor, rendering his device inactive.

Surprise flickers across his face before professional admiration replaces it. “Very good, Blair. Your observational skills remain impressive despite neurological alterations.”

“And your tactical approaches remain predictable despite decades of field experience.” Stepping fully beside Dante, I make my position unmistakably clear. “This meeting is over.”

Around us, sanctuary defenders emerge from concealed positions—a show of force without direct aggression.

My father calculates odds he’ll find unfavorable. The scientist in him recognizes defeat even as the father in him rebels against it.

“This isn’t finished,” he says finally, pocketing the device as he steps back. “Whatever you think you’ve found here—whatever connection you believe you’ve formed—it isn’t real. It isn’t sustainable.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” My hand finds Dante’s, fingers intertwining despite the claws he’s carefully retracted. “What I’ve found is more real than anything I experienced in your laboratories. More sustainable than a life built on fear and revenge. I love him, Dad, and he loves me.”

Pain flashes across his features before scientific detachment reclaims him. “When you come to your senses, Blair, I’ll be waiting.”

“I have full control of my senses.” My words are quiet, forceful. “More than I’ve ever had. Goodbye, Dad.”