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The request surprises me—both the consideration it represents and the implicit trust in allowing me near a vulnerable omega when I've spent months under suspicion as a potential security risk. More shocking is my immediate desire to agree, to provide comfort to someone suffering through biology I understand all too intimately.

The journey back to Shadowthorn passes in a tense silence broken only by medical updates and occasional communication with forward scouts. I sit beside the sedated omega, watching Fritz manage both the tactical retreat and the humanitarianresponse with an efficiency that speaks to experience beyond what I'd attributed to him. His protective behavior toward these rescued humans—strangers with no strategic value beyond their immediate intelligence potential—reveals a complexity I hadn't acknowledged in my simplistic characterization of him as a cold, calculating predator.

That night, returned to fortress safety while rescued humans receive medical treatment below, I find myself unable to sleep despite bone-deep exhaustion. Every time I close my eyes, I see the trader burning from inside out, hear his screams echoing across the valley, smell the horrific scent of charred flesh that lingered in the clearing.

When dreams finally claim me, they're filled with fire and claws—but the threatening shapes wear dragon wings, not feline features. I thrash awake in darkness, my heart pounding against my ribs, sweat soaking the bedding beneath me. My body instinctively seeks heat that isn't there, turning toward the empty space beside me where Fritz's higher temperature would provide comfort.

The realization freezes me mid-movement. I'm seeking Fritz—not just any alpha, but specifically him—in a moment of vulnerability and fear. The claiming bond pulses at my throat as though responding to the thought, sending phantom warmth through me despite his physical absence.

He maintains separate sleeping quarters except during my heat cycles, a professional distance that should reassure me but suddenly feels like deprivation. The cognitive dissonance is jarring—wanting comfort from the very alpha I've spent months resenting for claiming me against my will. Preferring his protective presence to solitude after witnessing firsthand the cruelty of creatures I once idealized.

I curl into myself, arms wrapped around my middle as though holding together a fragmenting identity. The worldI thought I understood has inverted completely—dragons revealed as monsters, felines as complex beings capable of both violence and protection, my own heart as a treacherous landscape I no longer recognize.

The claiming bite throbs at my throat, the connection to Fritz pulsing with emotional currents I lack a framework to interpret. Is he awake too? Reviewing battle outcomes with clinical precision while I fall apart? Or does some echo of my distress reach him through a bond neither of us fully understands?

I find myself pressing fingers against the mark, seeking a sensation that grounds me in present reality rather than nightmare memories of burning flesh and tortured screams. The pressure sends unexpected comfort through me—not just physical relief but emotional stabilization, as though the connection itself provides security independent of Fritz's physical presence.

This new reality terrifies me more than dragons ever could—the growing suspicion that the claiming bond might represent safety rather than imprisonment, that the alpha I've resisted might embody protection rather than threat. The implications shatter the foundation of resentment I've clung to since presentation, leaving nothing solid beneath me as I navigate this transformed world.

As dawn approaches, I stand at the window overlooking the fortress courtyard, watching feline patrols move with a measured precision that now registers as reassuring rather than intimidating. In the distance, mountains where dragons make their territory catch the first light—beautiful still, but a beauty I now recognize contains deadly deception.

My reflection stares back at me from the darkened glass—a claimed omega in a feline fortress, throat bearing the mark of an alpha she once despised. The woman I was three months ago wouldn't recognize this version of myself, wouldn't understandthe complicated gratitude beginning to form alongside lingering resentment.

When Fritz appears in the courtyard below, supervising the medical transfer of rescued humans to the settlement transport, I find myself tracking his movements with unwanted fascination. The power in his massive frame, the authority in his posture, the unexpected gentleness as he assists the still-sedated omega into a specialized containment vehicle—all aspects of a complexity I refused to acknowledge in my simplistic hatred.

The claiming bite pulses as though sensing my attention, the connection between us transmitting emotional awareness that transcends physical proximity. His head turns suddenly, golden eyes finding my window with unerring accuracy despite distance and shadow. For a brief moment, our gazes lock across that separation—alpha and omega, predator and prey, captor and captive—roles that no longer fully encompass what we've become to each other.

He nods once, an acknowledgment of shared experience that has forever altered how I view the creatures I once dreamed would be my salvation. Then he turns back to his duties, leaving me with an uncomfortable revelation that continues to unfold in my chest like a poisonous flower—the possibility that Fritz's claiming might represent not the worst fate that could have befallen me, but among the best.

The thought follows me back to my rumpled bed, where I collapse into exhausted sleep finally free of dragon nightmares. Instead, I dream of golden eyes watching over me, a barbed claiming that reshapes rather than destroys, and protection I never wanted but increasingly cannot deny I need.

THE UNEXPECTED

Fritz POV

"Dragon forces moving through North Pass, Commander. Three strike teams with air support. They'll reach settlement borders by nightfall."

The scout's words hit my gut like a stone. His fur still drips with sweat from his sprint back to the fortress, the scent of his exertion mixing with the sharp tang of fear he's trying to mask.

I lean over the terrain map, claws clicking against the surface as I trace the enemy movements we've been tracking since the rescue operation. My jaw tightens. The pattern is obvious now—not random testing of our boundaries but coordinated strikes, each one pushing closer to Blackridge Settlement.

"They're trying to see if we'll actually protect the humans or just secure the fortress," I tell Thorne, whose perfectly still tail tells me he's already calculating scenarios in his head. "Conquest Law only requires us to defend Prime installations, not the settlements."

"So we focus on fortress defense," he says immediately. "Pull our perimeter back to the first ridge line. We don't have enough forces to spread out that far."

Three days ago, I'd have agreed without hesitation. Military logic is clear—secure strategic positions, don't overextend your forces. But three days ago, I hadn't watched Aria's face shatter as she witnessed firsthand what dragons are capable of. Hadn't seen Blackridge through her eyes as we passed through after the rescue.

"No." I straighten to my full height, fur rippling along my spine as I make the decision. "We defend the settlement too."

Thorne's ears flick forward, surprise breaking through his professional mask. "Sir?"

"Defensive perimeter includes Blackridge." My claws extend as I make adjustments to the map interface. "Alpha team at the valley entrance. Bravo and Charlie on these ridge positions for covering fire. Aerial sensors along the northern approach."

Thorne's tail twitches once—the only outward sign of his disagreement. Most officers wouldn't notice it, but I've served with him long enough to read the subtle tells.

"Commander, with respect, that stretches our forces dangerously thin." His voice drops slightly. "The settlement isn't strategically necessary. We could defend just the fortress more effectively."

Heat rises under my fur. "The humans are under our protection," I growl, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "Not just the structures or the resources they provide, but the people themselves."