Page 22 of Devilishly Hers (Monster Mountain Romance #1)

Chapter Nineteen

B lair

The sanctuary’s monitoring center pulses with tension as alarms flash across crystal-enhanced screens.

Recently, I met with Volt and the senior members of the Sanctuary to discuss how my knowledge of the hunters could help the next time they attack. I knew my father would never give up, and I wanted to help in any way I could.

It took some convincing to allow me in the video room that they use as the command center. Since there is no way for me to make contact with the hunters, they decided it would be safe to have me there.

My hands fly over the keyboard, analyzing perimeter data while trying to ignore how every cryptid in the room glances my way. Their wariness is justified—I’m the hunter’s daughter, after all. Trust comes slowly here, especially during a security breach.

“Three teams approaching from different vectors,” Volt announces, his massive form crackling with electricity as he studies the surveillance feeds. “Coordinated movement patterns. Professional equipment. These aren’t random hunters—they’re organized.”

My breath catches as I recognize the formation displayed on the screens. “They’re using a modified Triquetra approach pattern.” The words emerge before I can stop them, drawing sharp looks from everyone present.

“A what?” Cypher, the Shadow Cat, materializes from a darkened corner, his amber eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“It’s a specialized tactical formation,” I explain, keeping my voice steady despite my pounding heart. “Three teams moving in geometric patterns to triangulate a target while maintaining optimal coverage ratios.”

“And you know this how?” Marina’s eyes narrow with unease.

Dante’s hooves click against the floor as he moves closer to the screens. His wing looks better today—the toxic lines finally receding after our latest treatment breakthrough. But it’s the wariness in his eyes that hurts most as he asks, “Is this your father’s work?”

Instead of flinching from the question, I square my shoulders and face it directly. “Yes. It’s his signature approach pattern. He developed it specifically for cryptid tracking in mountainous terrain.”

The room falls silent. I can almost hear their thoughts—wondering if I secretly called him, if this is some elaborate trap I’ve led them into. The doubt is understandable, but we don’t have time for it.

“Which means I know exact ly how to stop it.” I move to the main console and pull up a topographical map of the area.

“My dad trains his teams to keep the same distance from each other, no matter what’s in the way. That makes their movements easier to predict—especially in places where there aren’t many ways in.”

Volt’s electricity intensifies, making the air crackle around him. “You’re suggesting we use your insider knowledge of your father’s techniques against him.”

“Unless you’d prefer they reach the sanctuary’s main entrance.” My fingers trace potential interception points on the map. “They’re using third-generation thermal imaging modified for cryptid energy signatures. Standard blocking techniques won’t work.”

Dante steps forward, his crimson skin darkening as he studies the map. Our eyes meet briefly, and something passes between us—not forgiveness, not yet, but a tentative alliance born of necessity.

“What do you suggest?” His voice carries no emotion, but his tail curls slightly—a tell I’ve documented extensively.

Taking a deep breath, I point to three specific locations on the map. “These ridges provide natural choke points. If we position countermeasures here, here, and here, we can force them to abandon the Triquetra formation and fall back to standard pursuit patterns.”

“Countermeasures such as?” Cypher’s claws flex with barely contained tension.

“Volt’s electricity can disrupt their equipment if focused through naturally occurring crystal formations.” My mind races through options. Years of training now turned t o protection rather than pursuit. “Marina’s Water Sprites could create false thermal readings to confuse their tracking systems.”

Dante’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly. “You’ve thought about this before. Sanctuary defense against hunter tactics.”

Heat floods my cheeks as I nod. “Since the first week I arrived. Old habits… repurposed.”

Volt exchanges a look with Dante that I can’t quite interpret. After a moment of silent communication, the Thunderbird nods decisively. “We’ll try it your way. Cypher, alert the defensive teams. Marina, gather your sprites.”

As the room erupts into organized chaos, Dante remains beside me, his presence both comforting and unsettling. “Your father.” His voice drops lower, meant only for me. “You’re certain it’s him?”

“The pattern is unmistakable.” My fingers clench around the edge of the console. “But I don’t understand how he found this location. He shouldn’t even know I’m here.”

“Unless Apex shared information.” His tail lashes again. “Or perhaps you left a trail.”

The implication stings, but I meet his gaze steadily. “You carried me out of there unconscious in a hospital gown. How exactly would I have left a trail?”

His expression softens slightly, acknowledging the logic of my defense. Before he can respond, Volt returns with a crystal communications device. “Teams are moving in to position. Marina’s already at the eastern ridge.”

For the next hour, we work side by side in tense silence—my knowledge of how hunters think and his grasp of the sanctuary’s defenses making us a solid team. Even with everything unspoken between us, the mate bond buzzes under the surface, keeping us tuned in to each other in ways we can’t ignore.

When Volt’s lightning scrambles the hunters’ comms, throwing them into confusion, Dante’s tail brushes against my ankle—a small touch, but the first he’s made outside of treatment in days.

That tiny moment sends a wave of warmth through me.

“Smart move with the crystal amplification points,” Dante murmurs, eyes still on the surveillance feeds. “Volt’s electromagnetic pulse hit a lot harder than usual.”

“The crystals respond to emotion,” I say, keeping my voice calm even though his nearness still throws me off.

“Volt’s protective instincts gave them an extra boost.”

He shifts his wings. The injured one stretches out farther than it has in days—less pain now, at least.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time studying our defenses.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “To make them better. Old knowledge, new goal.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his tail stays close to my ankle—not touching, just there . And somehow, that feels like something.

An alert ping s from the monitors. The hunters are moving again, regrouping and shifting their formation after the EMP took out their gear.

“They’re falling back to standard pursuit mode,” I say, hearing the relief in my own voice. “Exactly what they’re trained to do when the Triquetra pattern fails.”

“Think they’ll try again?” Volt asks, stepping up beside us.

I trace their retreat path on the screen.

“Not right away. My dad’s protocols call for a reset after any electromagnetic disruption. They’ll pull back, check their systems, figure out what went wrong before trying something new.”

“How long do we have?” Dante asks. His tone is all business—focused on security, not whatever’s going on between us.

“Twenty-four hours at least,” I answer, watching the screen with eyes that have studied this kind of pattern my whole life.

“Maybe longer, depending on how bad the damage is.”

Now that the immediate threat has passed, the mood in the monitoring center shifts. The cryptids—who’ve been eyeing me with suspicion since the beginning—are starting to look at me differently. Still wary, but not as hostile.

I’ve spent my life learning how to hunt their kind.

Now I’m using that knowledge to help protect them.