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As he retreats toward the tree line, Dante’s wing curves protectively around my shoulders. The crystal monitoring device confirms what the mate bond already tells him—my elevated heart rate, the adrenaline flooding my system, the emotional turmoil beneath my calm exterior.

“Are you alright?” His voice drops to that register meant only for me, concern overriding the protective rage that still darkens his skin.

“I will be.” The honesty comes easier than expected. “He’s not ready to hear me. Maybe he never will be.”

“But you said what you needed to say.” His tail curls gently around my wrist, grounding me in the present moment. “You stood in your truth without apology or compromise.”

Looking up at him—at crimson skin slowly returning from protective obsidian, at garnet eyes that see me completely, at wings that shelter without confining—I feel certainty settle bone-deep within me.

“I chose well,” I say simply.

His skin shifts to that iridescent beauty that affirms his love. “We both did.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dante

The sanctuary hums with unusual energy as we return from the confrontation with Blair’s father. Crystal formations pulse with gentle blue light, responding to the collective relief flowing through the gathered cryptids.

“Tactical assessment suggests minimal immediate threat,” Volt announces, relief showing on his hawklike features. “Andrews withdrew with limited support personnel. No evidence of secondary forces positioned within tactical strike range.”

My skin shifts to obsidian as the memory of William Andrews’ parting words echoes in my mind:“When you come to your senses, Blair, I’ll be waiting.”

“He withdrew too easily,” I murmur to Blair as the council disperses. “Tactical retreat rather than strategic abandonment.”

“I noticed.” Her eyes meet mine with shared understanding. “His acceptance of my truth and easy retreat seemed almost… perfunctory.”

The observation sharpens my unease. William Andrews is many things—manipulative, dangerous, obsessive—but never careless or unprepared. The confrontation felt incomplete, as though setting the stage for something else.

“We should maintain heightened perimeter surveillance,” I suggest, scanning the celebrating cryptidswith growing concern. “At least until we’re certain he’s truly departed the region.”

“Already implemented,” Blair confirms, showing me the security protocols on her tablet. “Triple sensor arrays along all approach vectors, with particular emphasis on thermal imaging and biometric identification filters.”

My wing curves around her shoulders, unable to suppress my protective instinct despite her obvious competence. “Always thinking three steps ahead.”

She leans against me, a silent show of acceptance and trust. Our bond is stronger than ever.

As evening falls, the sanctuary’s celebration grows more animated. Brownies distribute freshly baked sourdough while Water Sprites create dancing light patterns across crystal walls. The cryptids who once viewed Blair with suspicion now raise glasses in her honor.

“To standing your ground,” Marina calls, her body undulating in the glowing light. “And choosing your own path!”

Cheers echo through the great hall, but I can’t shake the sense of impending danger. My gaze continually darts toward the monitoring crystals, searching for any sign of unusual activity beyond our walls.

As the celebration continues around us, neither of us fully relaxes. Through our bond, I feel her lingering vigilance beneath scientific composure—analytical mind processing tactical possibilities even as she accepts congratulations from sanctuary residents.

When we finally retire to our chamber hours later, I have no intention of going to sleep—not yet. Crystal formations cast shifting shadows across Blair’s face as she reviews security protocols one final time.

“All perimeter defenses functioning at optimal parameters,” she reports, setting down her tablet with deliberate precision. “Sanctuary residents secured in appropriate chambers with enhanced protection metrics.”

“And yet…” I leave the thought unfinished, tail lashing against the stone floor.

“And yet,” she agrees, understanding without explanation. “I don’t trust him.”

Neither of us has to name him out loud. We know who the enemy is. Blair’s hand finds mine in the crystal light, scientific precision giving way to simple connection. “Whatever comes, we face it together.”

As sanctuary crystals dim for nighttime conservation, my gaze remains fixed on the darkness beyond our mountain walls. Something waits out there—patient, calculating, and inevitable.

The hunter isn’t finished with us yet.