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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dante

The sanctuary alarms shatter the predawn silence, crystal formations pulsing with urgent crimson warning. I’m instantly alert, wings extending as Blair bolts upright beside me.

“Perimeter breach!” Volt’s voice thunders through the communication system. “Multiple incursion points detected. Sophisticated camouflage technology circumventing standard detection protocols.”

My skin shifts to pure obsidian as protective instincts surge. “Location?”

“Eastern approach primarily, with secondary vectors from north and south ridges.” Volt’s electricity intensifies, creating a visible current that races through the crystal arrays. “Coordinated assault pattern consistent with military precision.”

“My father’s tactical signature,” Blair confirms, instantly shifting from sleep to combat readiness. “The meeting was simply misdirection. Gathering intelligence while positioning forces for primary assault.”

We race through crystal-lined corridors as the sanctuary erupts into organized chaos. Young and elderly cryptids rush toward secure chambers deep within the mountain, defenders move to predetermined positions, and technologists activate crystal barrier systems.

“Confirmed infiltration.” Cypher materializes from the shadows near the main entrance, amber eyes blazing with unusual agitation. “Advanced weapons technology detected. Not standard hunter equipment.”

The monitoring center’s displays show an alarming development—hunter teams with advanced equipment moving through our defensive perimeter with unprecedented ease. Technologies neutralizing our sensors, targeting specific vulnerabilities with precision that speaks of insider knowledge.

“They’ve studied us,” Volt observes grimly. “They seem to know our defensive protocols, our species distribution, our security parameters.”

“Because I helped design those systems.” Blair’s voice carries controlled fury. “My father likely analyzed my tactical approaches, anticipated my security implementations.”

My wings extend fully as I prepare to join the defense. “Then we need unpredictable response patterns. Volt, coordinate non-standard defensive formations. Marina, deploy Water Sprites in counter-intuitive configurations. Cypher, shadowform reconnaissance beyond established parameters.”

As defenders rush to implement revised tactics, the crystal arrays pulse with increasing urgency. Hunter teams approach the main sanctuary entrances with coordinated precision that speaks of extensive preparation.

“They’ve neutralized the outer crystal barriers,” Marina reports, her voice filled with tension. “Approaching secondary containment protocols now.”

“I should never have agreed to that meeting,” Blair says quietly, fingers flying across control interfaces to strengthen remaining defenses. “This is my fault.”

“Later,” I tell her, wings alreadyextending for flight. “Self-recrimination after survival.”

Her hand catches mine with surprising strength. “Be careful,” she says, scientific detachment momentarily abandoned. “If my father is true to form, now that he knows we are bonded, their weapons are likely recalibrated for Jersey Devil physiology specifically. In addition, he saw Volt, Marina and her Sprites, and Cypher. He has a better idea what he’s up against.”

The truth in her assessment sends ice through my veins. “I’ll keep myself safe,” I promise, tail curling briefly around her wrist before I move toward the exit.

“Dante.” Her voice stops me again. When I turn, her expression holds none of the analytical precision she typically maintains in a crisis. Just raw emotion that vibrates through our bond. “I love you.”

My skin shifts instantly to that iridescent shade I reserve only for her. “I know,” I reply simply. “That’s why I’ll come back.”

I grab an earbud that will allow me to maintain communication with the command center while I do aerial reconnaissance. Right behind me, Riven grabs an earbud, his moth-like wings quivering as he races in the opposite direction. “Be safe, brother.” He calls over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner.

Brother. He’s right. We are family. Today I’m going to fight for my mate and my family.

The eastern corridor trembles with impact as I join Volt near the entrance. Crystal formations splinter under concentrated disruptor fire, their protective glow flickering dangerously.

“They’re well-equipped,” the Thunderbird observes, his emotions so high that his electricity crackles loudly. “Specialized weapons, tactical formation optimized for cryptid containment rather than elimination.”

“They want captives, not casualties,” I confirm, recognizing the approach pattern. “Particularly specific targets.”

“You and Blair,” Volt concludes grimly. “A mate-bonded pair presents a high-value research opportunity.”

The clinical assessment makes my skin darken further, tail lashing with protective rage. “They’ll have to get through me first.”

“Precisely what they’re counting on,” Volt warns. “Protective response patterns are predictable, exploitable.”

The first wave of well-equipped hunters breaches the inner defensive perimeter before we can implement full countermeasures. The sanctuary again erupts into controlled chaos—defenders executing revised tactical formations, cryptids using natural abilities to counter advanced technologies, battles erupting throughout crystal-lined corridors.