Page 23 of Moth to Her Flame

“Right. News. Good.” I try to slow my racing heart by taking deep breaths. “We should…”

“Yeah.”

But as we head to the front door, his wing brushes my back—a promise, a question, a continuation of whatever just sparked between us.

Later, I tell myself. We’ll figure this out later.

For now, there are mysteries to solve, dangers to face, and a growing certainty that my careful filing system isn’t the only barrier being dismantled piece by piece.

Chapter Eighteen

Riven

Dante’s expression is grim, his mouth tight. His usual sardonic humor is absent, replaced by a cold tension that sets my antennae quivering.

After quick introductions, he says to Chelsea, who’s hovering uncertainly by the couch, “You should sit.”

“That bad?” Her voice wavers slightly, and my wing curves toward her instinctively, though I’m still standing across the room.

“Worse.” Dante pulls out his tablet, claws tapping rapidly. “My contact, who’s still anonymous, managed to leak me some info.They say they can’t tell me everything, but what they sent…” He glances at me. “It’s not good.”

Chelsea sinks onto the couch. After a moment’s hesitation, I sit beside her, close enough to offer support but not quite touching. Her hand finds mine anyway, and my wings flare with answering light.

The change in what social media calls our “relationship status” isn’t lost on Dante, though the only hint that he’s noticed is a slight quirk of one sleek brow.

“Show us,” Chelsea says quietly.

Blueprints fill the screen—a massive facility disguised as a corporate campus. Multiple underground levels. Reinforced chambers with specifications that make my stomach turn.

“They’re not juststudyingcryptids.” Dante’s voice drops lower. “These are containment cells, designed for specific types. Look—electromagnetically shielded chambers for Volt, reinforced steel for Cliff, specialized restraint systems…”

Although my stomach lurches as I mentally label one of the cells with my own name since it seems designed for a Mothman, my wing wraps around Chelsea as she leans forward to study the plans. “Those aren’t research facilities,” she whispers. “They’re prisons.”

“Worse than prisons.” Dante swipes to another screen. “Military contracts, weapons development programs. They’re not just trying to prove we exist—I think they want to weaponize us.”

A distant mechanical whine makes my antennae snap to attention.

“That’s the third one I’ve spotted today,” Dante says grimly. “They’ve ramped up surveillance since that caller mentioned their symbol. Because they’ve been monitoring your broadcasts, we’re pretty sure they think you’re connected to some underground cryptid network.”

“But I’m not—”

“Doesn’t matter what’s true.” Dante shows her signal analysis data. “They believe you are, which makes you a target.”

I don’t mention it, but that she’s sitting in her cabin with two cryptids pretty much confirms sheisconnected to an underground cryptid network.

Her fingers tighten around mine. “The cabin isn’t safe anymore, is it?”

“No.” The word rips from my throat before I can bite it back. Besides, lying to her won’t protect her, though I wish it could. It will put her at more risk. “I’m sorry, Chelsea.”

“I’ve talked it over with the others.” Dante leans forward, spade-tipped tail twitching. “The mountain sanctuary… there’s room. You’d be protected there.”

She stiffens. “You mean go live with you? With other cryptids?”

The fear in her voice makes my heart clench. Slowly, carefully, I try to withdraw my wing, but her free hand gently catches the edge.

“How do you think we’ve stayed hidden all these centuries? We’re peaceful, Chelsea. We want nothing more than to be left alone. None of us has any desire to harm humans.”

“Although, we do what we must to protect ourselves and our own.” Dante’s voice is deadly. “You’ll have your own space,” he assures her, his tone now friendly and reassuring. “Private room, completely secure. The others agreed before I left this morning. We’ll provide whatever you need to feel safe.”

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