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Thorne doesn't try to stop me, though his knowing expression suggests he recognizes my retreat for what it is.

The narrow passage leading to the cave mouth gives me blessed solitude after the crowded main chamber.

Rain still pours heavily outside, the occasional lightning flash lighting up the valley in harsh white light before plunging it back into darkness.

The steady rhythm of water dripping from stone creates a hypnotic backdrop to my racing thoughts.

I run my fingers absently over the claiming mark, tracing the permanent impression of Fritz's teeth against my skin. Stronger than most markings. What does that mean for us? For the strange partnership that's grown between claimed omega and reluctant commander?

A flash of lightning reveals something that snaps me instantly from my thoughts to high alert—a distinctive pattern of scratches on the stone just inside the cave entrance. Three parallel lines, too deliberate to be natural. I crouch for a closer look, my fingers tracing the shallow grooves.

"Thorne," I call softly, my voice carrying just far enough to reach the main chamber. "Come look at this."

He appears beside me almost immediately, moving with that unnerving feline silence. "What is it?"

"Dragon markers." I point to the scratches. "Recent ones."

His pupils contract to vertical slits as he examines the marks. "Territory claim. Routine scouting signature."

"Yes, but look at the depth." I run my finger along the grooves. "These weren't made by casual passage. They spent time here. Recently."

Thorne breathes in deeply, his nose detecting scents my human senses could never pick up. His expression darkens. "You're right. They used this shelter within the past day. Possibly as recently as this morning."

The realization of how narrowly we missed a direct confrontation sends ice through my veins. "If the storm hadn't driven us here earlier than planned..."

"We might have encountered them returning to their shelter." Thorne's tail goes completely still—the feline equivalent of intense focus. "We need to check the entire cave system for more signs."

The next hour is spent carefully examining every passage branching from the main chamber. We find more evidence of dragon presence—remnants of rations, a discarded scale, another set of territorial markings deeper in the cave system.

"A forward scouting position," Thorne concludes as we return to the main chamber. "They're establishing presence on this side of the disputed border."

"Which means they're planning something bigger than routine territory testing," I finish his thought, the strategic implications immediately clear. "These caves give access to three approaches to Shadowthorn."

Thorne nods grimly. "We've established our observation posts just in time. Maybe not a moment too soon."

Sleep is impossible that night, despite exhaustion weighing down my limbs.

Every sound from the storm outside makes me instantly alert, my mind creating scenarios where dragon scouts return to their shelter only to find it occupied by their enemies.

Thorne establishes a doubled watch rotation, making sure at least two sets of eyes monitor the cave entrance at all times.

When first light finally filters through the rain-washed sky, we break camp in efficient silence.

The storm has passed, leaving behind mud-slicked trails and fallen branches across our path.

The descent proves more treacherous than the climb up, requiring careful navigation around newly formed washouts and unstable slopes.

By mid-afternoon, the fortress comes into view, its stone walls blending almost seamlessly with the mountainside. Relief floods through me at the sight—a reaction that would have been unthinkable months ago when those same walls represented my prison rather than safety.

The guards at the gate snap to attention as our patrol approaches, one immediately disappearing inside—no doubt to report our return to Fritz. We've barely made it into the courtyard when his imposing form emerges from the main keep, his movements showing the controlled urgency he's trying to hide.

His golden eyes find me immediately, scanning for injuries with open concern he doesn't bother to disguise.

The intensity of his gaze—the raw relief evident in his posture as he confirms I'm safe—creates a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with omega biology and everything to do with the connection that's grown between us.

"Report," he demands of Thorne, his voice carefully controlled even as his tail betrays his agitation with a single sharp movement.

"Observation posts established as planned," Thorne answers crisply. "Evidence of significant dragon presence throughout the target zone. They're positioning for something substantial, Commander."

Fritz's gaze returns to me, something unreadable flickering in his golden eyes. "You found their markers?"

"In the cave system where we sheltered during the storm," I confirm. "They've been using it as a forward base. We missed direct contact by hours at most."

A rumbling growl builds in his chest, quickly suppressed but not before I catch the protective rage behind it. "Inside. Full debriefing immediately."

As we follow him into the keep, I notice the subtle changes to his quarters visible through the partially open door—my belongings moved from my previous chambers as ordered, but arranged with unexpected care.

The connecting door between his room and what will now be mine stands partially open, changed from barrier to passage.

The claiming mark at my throat pulses with renewed awareness as Fritz's scent surrounds me once more—that distinctive mix of pine, leather, and feline musk that once repelled me but now registers as security. As home.

Stronger than most markings, Thorne had said. Deeper instinctive recognition.

I touch the scar lightly as I pass the threshold into the command chamber, the significance of what awaits after this debriefing—separate quarters connected by an open door, proximity without forced intimacy—creating both excitement and nervousness.

The mission has succeeded. The observation network established. The physical distance from Shadowthorn safely traveled.

But the distance I've traveled from reluctant captive to willing defender—the emotional territory I've crossed from dragon fantasy to feline reality—feels far more significant than any mountain path.

And far more dangerous to navigate.