Page 24

ARATON

M illie's weight in my arms feels both too light and impossibly heavy as I burst through the door, my wings knocking against the frame in my haste.

Her tiny body trembles against my chest, her tears leaving wet patches on my shirt.

Every muscle in my body screams to turn around, to go after Ronnie, but the precious cargo clutching at me anchors me to reason.

"Papa, Mama's still out there!" Millie sobs, her golden eyes—my eyes—wide with terror. "The big monster?—"

"I know, sweetheart." My voice sounds alien to my own ears, stripped of its usual confidence. I set her down with more force than intended, my hands shaking. "Stay here."

Harmony rushes forward, her face drained of color. "What's happening?"

"Thassir," I manage, the word clawing its way out of my throat. "Forest edge. Ronnie drew it away from Millie."

The silent understanding that passes between us needs no elaboration. Harmony immediately pulls Millie into her arms while Adellum moves to block the door, his massive gray wings expanding protectively.

"I went to see the pretty thaliverns," Millie hiccups, her small silver wings quivering against her back. "I'm not supposed to go outside alone but I wanted?—"

"We'll talk about that later," I cut her off, unable to focus on her explanation. Every second feels like an eternity, every moment I stand here is another moment Ronnie faces that beast alone.

Fear like I've never known courses through me, turning my blood to ice. My mind floods with images of Ronnie—her fierce gray eyes closed forever, her sharp tongue silenced, those freckles I've memorized splashed with crimson. The possibility nearly brings me to my knees.

"Keep them inside," I command, already backing toward the door. "Both of them."

Adellum nods, his silver eyes unusually somber. "We will. Go."

I don't wait for further permission. The night air hits me like a physical force as I launch myself from the doorway, wings snapping open to catch the breeze. I rise swiftly above the house, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

The forest edge looms as a solid black wall against the dimming purple sky.

Where did she go? Which direction? Panic threatens to overwhelm my training, my carefully cultivated composure crumbling like sand.

I've faced dignitaries who could have ordered my execution with a smile on my face, but the thought of losing Ronnie—stubborn, infuriating, magnificent Ronnie—unravels me completely.

A flash of movement catches my eye—something large displacing the tall grass at the forest boundary. Without hesitation, I tilt my wings and dive.

The wind whistles past my face as I push my wings to their limit, driving myself forward with desperate speed. "RONNIE!" Her name tears from my throat, raw and primal, as I approach the treeline.

No answer comes.

I land hard at the forest edge, my eyes frantically adjusting to the deeper darkness beneath the canopy. The undergrowth shows signs of disturbance—broken branches, trampled ferns. I follow the trail, my heart thundering so loudly I fear it might drown out any sounds that could lead me to her.

"Ronnie!" I call again, pushing deeper into the woods. My wings catch on low branches, but I barely register the sting. "Answer me, fierce one!"

The forest feels like a living entity closing in around me, branches reaching like grasping fingers, shadows deepening with each step.

Is this how it ends? After everything—after finding her again, discovering our daughter, these tentative steps toward something I've never dared name—will she be taken from me by some random predator?

I refuse to accept it. Something dark and possessive rises in my chest, a feeling I've never allowed myself to acknowledge fully until this moment.

"She is mine," I growl into the darkness, as if the forest itself might listen. "Do you hear me? She belongs with me."

A distant crash sounds to my left—the unmistakable noise of something large moving through the underbrush.

I pivot instantly, wings tucking tight against my back as I sprint between tree trunks, leaping over fallen logs.

The forest floor is treacherous in the darkness, roots threatening to snag my feet, but I push forward, driven by pure desperation.

Another crash, closer now. Then a sound that freezes my blood—the distinctive snarl of a thassir followed by a human cry of pain.

Ronnie.

I've never moved faster in my life, drawing on every ounce of strength in my body. I burst through a thicket into a small clearing just in time to see the massive shape of the thassir lunging toward a figure pressed against the base of a massive tree.

Ronnie stands with her back against the trunk, clutching a broken branch like a weapon, her auburn hair wild around her face. Even cornered, even facing death, she looks ready to fight with everything she has. The sight of her—alive, defiant—nearly buckles my knees with relief.

But there's no time for gratitude. The thassir crouches, its six amber eyes blinking in that unsettling sequence as it prepares to pounce.

I don't think. I don't plan. I simply act.

I hurl myself between Ronnie and the beast, my wings flaring wide to make myself appear larger.

The thassir recoils for just a heartbeat—enough time for me to position myself defensively.

Its massive form towers above me, all rippling muscle beneath dark, mottled fur.

Its six amber eyes blink in that unnerving sequential pattern, assessing me as a new threat.

"Stay behind me," I growl to Ronnie without looking back. I can sense her there—the warmth of her, the rapid tempo of her breathing.

The thassir's upper lip curls back to reveal rows of jagged teeth, each one longer than my finger.

The beast shifts its weight, haunches bunching for attack.

I mirror its movements, calculating angles, searching for weakness.

I've hunted thassir before, but never unarmed, never with stakes this high.

It lunges—a blur of claws and teeth. I sidestep and thrust my forearm against its throat, using its momentum to drive it sideways into a tree trunk.

The impact sends shockwaves through the forest floor.

The beast recovers faster than I anticipate, twisting with unnatural flexibility to snap at my wing.

Pain lances through me as teeth graze my primary feathers. I slam my fist into the creature's sensitive snout, earning a high-pitched howl that vibrates through my bones.

"Run!" I shout to Ronnie as I wrestle with the beast, my fingers digging into its thick fur, searching for vulnerable points. "Get out of here!"

"I can't leave you!" Her voice cracks with terror, yet I hear her step forward rather than back.

Gods, this stubborn, impossible woman. Even now, she defies me.

The thassir thrashes beneath my grip, nearly dislodging me. Its claws rake across my side, tearing fabric and skin. Hot pain blooms along my ribs, but I barely register it through the flood of combat focus.

"Ronnie!" I twist to look at her, catching a glimpse of her face—pale in the darkness, jaw set with determination. "Run. Now. I will find you."

"But—"

"I promise." I pour every ounce of command into my voice. "I will always find you."

Something in my tone finally reaches her. With a strangled sound of protest, she turns and flees, crashing through the underbrush. The thassir's attention follows her movement, its body tensing to give chase. I drive my knee into its flank, reclaiming its focus and garnering more of its claws.

"No," I snarl into its face, baring my own teeth. "She's mine."

Once I'm certain Ronnie is far enough away, I stop holding back.

With her gone, I don't have to restrain my magic or my strength.

I press my palm against the thassir's throat, channeling a current of air magic directly into its windpipe.

The beast convulses, claws scrabbling frantically at my chest and arms.

I lean in close, feeling its hot breath against my face. "You should have chosen another hunting ground."

With a vicious twist of my wrist, I compress the air inside its lungs until they rupture. The thassir's body goes rigid, then limp. Its six eyes blink once more, out of sequence, before glazing over.

I shove the carcass away, rising to my feet.

Blood trickles down my side, but the wounds are superficial.

They'll heal quickly. Adrenaline courses through my veins, making my vision sharper, my senses heightened.

The forest around me pulses with new clarity—every rustling leaf, every shifting shadow.

And somewhere among those shadows is Ronnie.

I inhale deeply, catching the faintest trace of her scent on the night air. My wings unfurl instinctively, stretching to their full span despite the cramped confines of the forest. The predatory instinct that helped me kill the thassir hasn't receded—it merely shifts targets.

Find her. Hunt her. Claim her.

The thought sends an electric thrill down my spine. I launch into motion, following her trail through the trees. Her path is erratic—panicked—crashing through undergrowth with no thought for stealth. So easy to track. So completely at my mercy.

Something primal stirs in my chest as I pick up speed. This isn't the poised, careful pursuit of a courier or diplomat. This is something far older, something written into my blood. The chase. The capture.

I leap over fallen logs, weaving between tree trunks.

Each step brings me closer to her, and anticipation builds like a gathering storm.

I imagine finding her—breathless, disheveled, those defiant gray eyes wide when she realizes I've caught her.

I'll show her exactly what happens when she runs from me, when she tries to hide from me.

The memory of her pressed against the wall of her cottage flashes through my mind. How she yielded beneath my hands even as she fought me with words. How perfectly she fit against me.

My pace quickens, wings tucked tight against my back for speed. The forest thins ahead, and I catch a glimpse of movement—a flash of auburn against the night. There. My prey. My Ronnie.

The hunt surges through me, hot and demanding. I close the distance with predatory focus, my blood singing with the promise of capture.