Page 8 of Stripe Theory

A piercing alarm cut through her words. Red warning lights flashed as the lab’s security system activated. Stripes darted under a counter with a startled yowl, knocking over another stack of papers in the process.

“What’s happening?” her mother demanded through the video call.

Alora rushed to her security console, Maya close behind. “Someone’s approaching the lab.” She pulled up the camera feed, her breath catching at what she saw.

Two figures moved through the corridor. One with predatory grace, each step measured and purposeful. His broad shoulders filled out an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, and even through the security feed, his presence commanded attention. Amber eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, marking him as a shifter. His dark hair was styled to perfect professional precision, not a strand out of place.

Maya leaned closer, her own shifter instincts recognizing a powerful alpha. “Looks like your new boss has arrived,” she said, her tone mixing amusement with warning. “Rehan Kedi himself along with his beta. And may I say, your mother understated the intense part.”

“So this is the famous Rehan Kedi.” Alora studied his approach, curiosity overriding her initial nervousness. Everything about him radiated control and authority, from hisconfident stride to the slight predatory tilt of his head as he surveyed the corridor.

“He’s intense, all right.” Maya smirked. “Bet he doesn’t do spring rolls. Or tiger puns. Or lab coats with dancing cats on them.”

“Should I change?” Alora glanced down at her colorful attire, then at her lab – the tiger-themed decorations, the scattered papers, the half-eaten Thai food. Her organized chaos suddenly seemed very... chaotic. “I have a plain coat somewhere. Probably. From that one time I had to testify before the genetics board.”

“Don’t you dare,” Maya said firmly. “He’s getting brilliant scientist Alora Sky, tiger puns and all. Besides,” she added with a wicked grin, “his expression when he sees all this will be priceless.”

Alora straightened her lab coat, fingers brushing over the embroidered tigers dancing across the pockets. “Well,” she said, squaring her shoulders as Rehan reached her lab entrance, “I hope he likes chaos.”

The security panel beeped, announcing an authorized entry attempt. Alora took a deep breath, preparing to meet the man whose funding – and from the look of him, exacting standards – could shape the future of her work.

“Good luck,” her father called through the still-active video chat. “And Alora? Remember what I always say?—”

“Science isn’t just about being right,” she finished with him, managing a smile despite her nerves, “it’s about being right for the right reasons.” She ended the call and turned to Maya. “Ready to meet an alpha tiger?”

Maya’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I bet he tries not to smile at least three times in the first five minutes.”

“I bet he doesn’t know what to do with Stripes.”

The lab door slid open with a soft hiss, and Alora straightened her spine. Behind her, Stripes emerged from his hiding spot to investigate the newcomer, his tail held high like a furry question mark. Time to show Rehan Kedi that brilliant science could come with a side of tiger stripes – whether he liked it or not.

FOUR

Rehan Kedi stood at his office window, watching dawn paint Manhattan’s skyline in shades of amber that reminded him of his tiger’s eyes. Forty floors below, the city stirred to life, but up here in his pristine sanctuary, nothing moved without his permission.

Every surface gleamed with measured perfection – from the mahogany desk positioned at precisely the right angle to catch the morning light, to the perfectly spaced artwork featuring abstract interpretations of jungle scenes.

Control. Order. Precision. These principles had guided him since taking over as pride leader at twenty-five years of age, the youngest alpha in Kedi history. They’d driven him to transform his family’s company into a biotechnology empire. They’d kept him focused through endless nights of training, board meetings, and pride politics.

Yet now, staring at Dr. Alora Sky’s research for the third time, those principles wavered.

His tablet displayed her latest findings, each page a brilliant fusion of innovative thinking and methodical science. Her understanding of shifter genetics went beyond mere academic knowledge – she saw patterns others missed, made connectionsthat shouldn’t have been possible for a human scientist. Most infuriatingly, she presented it all with an enthusiasm that bordered on chaos.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Hunter Carver noted from his sprawled position in one of the leather chairs. His security chief’s casual posture might fool others, but Rehan recognized the predatory readiness in his friend’s relaxed limbs. “Though you haven’t touched it in thirty minutes. Something about Dr. Sky’s research keeping you occupied?”

Rehan’s finger tapped the desk – once, twice – before he caught himself. “Her methodology is... unexpected.”

“Your mother’s quite insistent about this investment,” Hunter said, amusement coloring his tone. “Though I have to admit, Dr. Sky’s approach to the virus is unique. Treating it as a genetic puzzle rather than just a shifter illness...”

“Mother says she shows remarkable insight for a human.” The words came out more clipped than intended, making Hunter roll his eyes – a habit his friend had perfected over their years together. “With the virus spreading through pride communities, we need fresh perspectives.”

“Oh, you’ll get fresh perspective all right.” Hunter’s grin widened as he pulled up a video on his tablet. “Dr. Alora Sky gave a lecture last month. Watch this.”

Rehan’s tiger stirred with interest before he’d even processed why. On screen, a woman with copper-streaked brown hair practically radiated energy, her hands painting pictures in the air as she explained complex genetic theories. Her lab coat – covered in what appeared to be cartoon tigers – swished with each animated movement. The absurdity of her attire clashed with the brilliant science flowing from her lips.

“So when we examine the protein binding sequence,” video-Alora explained, her British accent adding charm to her words, “we see the virus isn’t kitten around – it’s literally playingcat and mouse with the shifter’s DNA.” Her audience laughed, but their notepads never stopped moving. “And that’s the catastrophe we need to prevent. Though I promise not to make any more cat puns during this presentation.” She paused, eyes twinkling. “That’s a whisker I can’t risk.”

Rehan’s jaw clenched. His tiger, traitor that it was, purred at her playfulness. “She’s... unconventional.”

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