Page 51 of Moth to Her Flame

“Plus some strategic flooding.” Marina’s fins ripple. “That reservoir feeds more than their cooling systems.”

Cliff studies the blueprints again. “My human cousins work construction in town. Getting maintenance uniforms and badges won’t be difficult.”

The plan unfolds; each new idea making it more diabolical… and deadly. Volt and Dante coordinate the electrical assault. Cypher and the brownies will infiltrate through maintenance shafts. Marina and her water sprites will target critical systems. Cliff assures us his Sasquatch family will provide cover and equipment.

And I walk straight through their front door, head down and practically invisible.

“Their containment cells run on electromagnetic fields,” Dante explains, checking calculations. “Fields specifically designed to suppress cryptid powers and keep them imprisoned. When we cut the main power—”

“The backup generators kick in,” Volt continues. “But they can only maintain those suppression fields for twenty minutes before failing completely.”

“Twenty minutes.” Dante checks calculations. “That’s how long their backup systems can maintain containment fields at full power. Once we kill the main grid…”

“Twenty minutes to get in, get Riven, and get out.” My stomach cramps, but then I force myself to believe he’s alive.

“He’ll be weak.” Marina’s voice gentles. “The bond-sickness, their experiments… he might not be able to fly.”

“That’s why Cliff is our exit strategy.” Dante winks at his friend.

The massive cryptid nods grimly.

“No one carries an unconscious body out of a facility quite like him.”

Volt’s wings spread, as though he’s preparing for Armageddon. “Three hours until shift change. Time to gear up.”

As the others disperse to prepare, I pull out my phone. The only photo I’ve taken of Riven glows on the screen—his wings bright with golden light, antennae perked with happiness, and he’s wearing that subtle smile that’s just for me.

“Hold on,” I whisper to the image. “We’re coming.”

Chapter Forty

Chelsea

Cliff’s cousins in construction came through with more than just the badge: complete maintenance credentials, schedule rotations, even the right brand of work boots. The temporary facility’s layout matches the blueprints exactly: three levels down for containment, east wing for research, west for medical. Security protocols rely heavily on cryptid detection technology, making a human maintenance worker practically invisible. Their arrogance in focusing solely on supernatural threats might be their downfall.

The maintenance badge feels like a lead weight against my chest as I slip through Apex’s service entrance, head down and shoulders hunched in the universal posture of invisible workers.Years of investigating stories taught me one truth: no one looks twice at cleaning staff.

“Split up here,” Dante whispers through our earpiece. “Dr. Andrews’ lab is in the east wing. Her coding is brilliant—the security system practically dismantled itself once I input her backdoor algorithm.” There’s something in his tone beyond professional admiration, but there’s no time to analyze it.

“Be careful,” my voice barely carries. “If her research notes about cryptids are accurate, they’ll be keeping her drugged between experiments.”

“Trust me.” His spade-tipped tail twitches with uncharacteristic agitation. “I’ve memorized every detail of her file. Did you know she revolutionized biophysics with her work on energy transfer between organic systems? Her research on cellular adaptation had to potential to change medicine—before Apex acquired her. The implications for understanding cryptid abilities—” He catches himself, clearing his throat. “Anyway. Twenty minutes. Use our prearranged signal if you find Riven.”

Keeping movements efficient but unhurried, the cleaning cart provides both prop and cover while navigating deeper into the facility. My heart pounds so hard it’s a wonder the badge isn’t dancing between my breasts, but not a single person has given me a second glance.

My stomach knots with worry, not about my own safety, but about Riven. Right now, I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead. Luckily, I’m distracted as distant thunder signals Volt’s takingaction on his part of the plan. Right on schedule, alarms start blaring and a computerized voice announces power fluctuations in sector seven.

“All security personnel report to stations,” a voice echoes overhead. “Scanning for cryptid signatures.”

Perfect. While they search for mythical creatures, a simple human in janitorial scrubs remains unnoticed, pushing her cart past checkpoints. Marina’s slow infiltration through the water systems creates enough minor flooding to keep maintenance staff rushing between problems. No one questions another worker heading toward the mess and hopefully, Dante is being careful on his mission to find Dr. Andrews.

My steps echo as I race down three flights of stairs, then hurry past the biochem labs, following the route memorized from stolen blueprints. The high-pitched whine of struggling containment fields grows stronger with each step. Almost there, just need to—

“Hey! This area’s restricted!”

The guard drops as Cypher materializes behind him, striking with practiced silence.

“Cutting it close, sorry,” the black feline rumbles, dragging the unconscious man into a supply closet. “Had to wait for the third power surge. They’re scanning between outages.” He glances at his watch. “Fifteen minutes until full systems reboot.”

---