Page 24

The moment Fritz breaks through the dragon line to reach the captives, I see something I hadn't expected—the commander yielding tactical advantage to prioritize human safety.

With Pyrax momentarily stunned from a particularly vicious counterattack, Fritz could have pressed forward to potentially eliminate the dragon commander.

Instead, he turns immediately to the presenting omega, wrapping her in a specialized cloak designed to mask pheromones before organizing a retreat formation that places rescued humans at the protected center.

The extraction proceeds with controlled urgency—feline forces providing covering fire while we guide traumatized humans through the concealed retreat path.

The presenting omega stumbles frequently, heat symptoms accelerating under stress.

Each time, Fritz pauses to ensure she's stabilized before continuing, his behavior toward her revealing a patience and concern I hadn't thought him capable of.

By the time we reach the secured transport waiting at the predetermined extraction point, the omega has collapsed completely into heat-delirium, whimpering with a need that cannot be satisfied under current circumstances.

The medical officer administers an emergency suppressant—a stronger formulation than anything settlement healers possess—while explaining treatment protocols to the other female captive with a calm professionalism that seems surreal after the violence we've just escaped.

"She'll require monitoring through the full cycle," the officer tells Fritz as they secure the transport for the return journey. "Heat triggered by trauma often resists standard suppressant protocols."

Fritz nods acknowledgment, then turns to me with an unexpected question. "Will you stay with her? Your presence as a female omega might provide comfort during transport."

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 humanitarian response 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 world I 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 understand the 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.