Page 52 of Moth to Her Flame

A howl of pure agony tears through the corridor, turning my blood to ice. Riven. Even without our bond, that sound would haunt nightmares.

Protocol forgotten, my feet move before conscious thought. Cypher curses behind me, but there’s no stopping now. That tortured sound will follow me to my grave if we don’t reach him immediately.

The containment room’s door yields to Dante’s hacked keycard with an ominous hiss. Inside…

Oh god.

Riven hangs suspended in crackling energy fields. His wings, utterly devoid of color, droop lifelessly. Wires and sensors cover his bare chest, feeding data to machines that make bile rise in my throat. His head hangs limp, antennae completely still.

The observation window shows an empty control room. Dante’s staged security alert must have worked, drawing the staff to the opposite wing. Abandoned coffee cups and scattered notes suggest a hurried departure. A lone monitor blinks with warning messages about system failures.

“Another power surge!” The facility-wide announcement system crackles. “We’re losing containment in sectors—”

The lights cut out as the system switches to emergency backup. The containment field flickers.

Moving purely on instinct, my hand slams the emergency release. Riven crumples as the field dies, but Cypher catches him before he hits the ground.

“Riven?” My fingers brush his face, his antennae, as I desperately seek any response. “Please…”

His skin is cold, wings lying like dead things against Cypher’s midnight fur. But when my hand finds his, the faintest spark of gold ripples through one antenna. Dear god, I’ve never been so relieved about anything in my life. He’s alive. I’ll hold on to that small miracle and pray that he can fully recover.

“Target two secured,” Dante’s whispered voice crackles through the earpiece, slightly winded but triumphant. “Moving to extraction point.”

Cypher adjusts his grip on Riven as another alarm blares. “Time to go. Marina’s got the tunnels prepped.”

From there, the escape becomes a blur of shadows and silence, each step bringing more color to Riven’s wings, more strength to his breathing. My feet follow the extraction route on autopilot—service corridors, maintenance shafts, and finally the blessed darkness of Marina’s underground waterways. All I can think about is that my male, the man I’m to be bound to, is alive.

They wanted to study a Mothman’s abilities?

They got more than they bargained for. They just learned what happens when you fuck with family.

Chapter Forty-One

Chelsea

After years of hosting a midnight call-in show, I’m the opposite of an early bird. But this morning, a quick glance at my phone tells me it’s barely dawn. My new family is keeping me informed via texts. In the medical wing, Dr. Andrews is still sleeping off whatever drugs Apex used to keep her compliant. Otherwise, my friends say she appears unharmed.

Dante hasn’t left her side. “Just monitoring her vitals,” he insists, though Marina sent me a text full of heart emojis that said his tail twitches every time she stirs. This might get interesting.

I thank whatever gods are listening that Riven’s wings show hints of true gold. There were a few hours where I wasn’t sure he would live.

He’s still weak as a newborn, but his antennae twitch with more vigor each time I stroke them. The crystals in the walls of his room—our room, I correct myself—seemed so dim when we brought him in last night. But now, they’re radiating a pale glow.

“You should rest too,” he murmurs as I adjust the quilts Marina piled around us. We haven’t broken physical contact since the rescue, my touch slowly rebuilding his depleted energy.

“I’m fine,” I insist, though exhaustion pulls at every muscle. “Dante’s decoding what we salvaged from their systems. We need to—”

His delicate probe gently brushes my lips, silencing me with gentle efficiency. “You haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

“Neither have you.”

“I was unconscious for part of it! If I know you, you didn’t even take a break.” His wing curves around me, still trembling with weakness but determined to offer protection.

“Did someone snitch on me?”

“Maybe I just know you too well. Come here.” He may be weak, but damn, the look of gentle affection he gives me makes my heart flutter.

Carefully settling beside him, mindful of the places their machines left marks, I let my fingers trace the slowly brightening patterns in his wings. Each small touch brings more color to the membranes, more strength to his limbs.

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