PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki

October 20, 2025

11:53 EST

NAWC Clinic

Pigeon Forge, NC

I sat on a doctor’s stool, spinning idly, trying to distract myself from the oppressive weight in the room. Cayro and I waited for the pack doctor, though I was half expecting someone far worse to walk in. The nurse had tried to insist I wait in the lobby, but after the deadpan look I gave her, she quickly backpedaled and left without another word. Smart girl. No one was getting between Cayro and me, not today.

Cayro lay on the examination table, eyes fixed on the ceiling, that haunted silence of his settling over him again. It bothered me. When he got like this, it wasn’t just brooding—it was something darker. After a moment, I decided to ask instead of prying into his mind like I normally would.

Spinning to face him, I caught his distant expression. “What’s on your mind?” I asked softly, though I already knew it wasn’t good.

He turned his head, his jaw tight. “I’m thinking about my father. About how he just killed that werewolf—like it was nothing. No hesitation, no emotion. And when he handed me the sword… Star, he was excited. Like he wanted to see what I could do, to see how far his creation would go.” His voice was low, laced with disgust. “It’s like I wasn’t even his son in that moment, just another experiment.”

I sat there, letting his words settle, feeling the icy reality of it. He wasn’t wrong. Ever since Dr. Bracton had waltzed into our lives again, there was something deeply, seriously off about him. I’d sensed it, the same way you sense a predator that doesn’t quite fit with the world around it. And in that truck? His emotions were dead—like flipping a switch. Only when he talked about his work, or about the weapon, did that deadness flicker with something twisted, like he took joy in it.

I opened my mouth to respond when the door swung open with the faintest click, and there he was. Dr. Bracton.

The room chilled immediately, tension crackling like electricity in the air. His stare pierced through us, cold, calculating—like he was peeling back layers just by looking. I froze on my stool as Cayro sat up, rigid, his body taut as a wire.

“What do you want now…” Cayro growled, his voice vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Was that little demonstration not enough for you? Or are you here to dissect me like one of your damned test subjects?”

Dr. Bracton’s lips curled, the barest hint of a grin that wasn’t remotely warm. It was the smile of a man who enjoyed pulling the wings off flies. “Relax, little Jacob,” he said smoothly, voice as cold as ever. “I’m the lead physician here. I’m simply here to treat your wounds… that is, unless you prefer to let them fester.” He said it so flatly it felt more like a veiled threat than an offer of help.

Every muscle in Cayro’s body tensed. I could see it in his eyes—he was seconds away from coming off that table and tearing his father apart. Without thinking, I slid off my stool, positioning myself between them, acting as the only barrier keeping Cayro from doing something he might regret—or worse, enjoy.

“If we’d known you would be treating Cayro, I would’ve handled it myself,” I said, my tone steely, the same no-nonsense edge I used when flying the skycar.

Dr. Bracton’s gaze shifted to me, as if finally acknowledging my presence. He raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. “Oh? And you’re confident you can handle that? You’re no pack doctor, Star. What makes you think you can do any better?”

I held his gaze without flinching. “I’m trained to the level of a physician’s assistant. I’ve treated worse. Believe me, I can handle a few claw marks.”

His expression didn’t change, but I could sense the shift—something amused, like he was deciding whether to toy with me or let it slide. “Hmm. Very well,” he murmured, holding out the gauze and saline with the same detached coldness, like he was handing me a weapon instead of medical supplies. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Despite every instinct screaming at me not to, I turned my back on him to focus on Cayro. His eyes never left his father, glaring daggers into the man’s skull, daring him to make a move. If Bracton so much as twitched, Cayro would be on him. I could feel it. The tension in the room was suffocating, a violent storm held back by nothing but fraying threads.

I started cleaning the claw marks, noticing that they were already knitting together. Cayro’s healing abilities had kicked in faster than usual. These marks were closing up quicker than the stab wound he’d taken before. Within hours, they’d likely be nothing but scars.

Behind me, Dr. Bracton’s presence loomed, and I didn’t need to look to know his eyes were on us, observing like we were specimens under a microscope. This wasn’t concern, it was something else—darker, twisted. He wasn’t here for Cayro’s well-being. He was here to watch, to see how his little experiment would hold up under the strain.

And that grin… I could still feel it on my back. The excitement lurking beneath that cold exterior.

I worked in silence, the weight of Dr. Bracton’s presence filling the room with an almost oppressive tension. The sterile smell of the clinic, combined with his cold stare, only made the unease worse. By the time I finished, Cayro’s chest was wrapped in fresh gauze, but my mind was already racing—making a mental note to check on him later that evening. Cayro swung his legs off the table, the familiar creak of leather loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Dr. Bracton stood there, arms crossed, his gaze still fixed on us—like a predator waiting for a sign of weakness. "So, it seems you do have medical training after all," he said finally, his voice flat, but with that eerie undercurrent, as if he were constantly amused by some secret we didn’t know.

I didn’t bother answering him, just stared back with cold defiance. Dr. Bracton’s lips twitched, then his dark eyes slid over to Cayro, scrutinizing him with that same unsettling detachment. “That was a fascinating kill this morning, Jacob,” he said, so casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

Cayro’s lip curled, a deep, guttural snarl vibrating in his throat. He was seconds away from snapping, but he stayed quiet, too on edge to give in just yet. I, however, couldn’t hold back. “Do you even care that your son killed someone?” I demanded, my voice low, dangerous.

Dr. Bracton’s response was immediate—a dismissive shrug. “Not particularly,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm. “In this world, it’s survival of the fittest. If you’re weak, you die. It’s that simple. There’s no room for sentiment.”

His words set my teeth on edge. It was like he didn’t care at all about what Cayro had gone through. The fight, the kill—it wasn’t just a life-or-death moment for Cayro; it was something deeper, something that left scars. “So, you don’t care that this could destroy your son? That killing someone might leave him broken?” I demanded, bewildered by the sheer lack of empathy.

“Nope,” he replied without missing a beat. “He did what was necessary to survive. That’s all that matters.” His eyes gleamed with an unsettling satisfaction, like we were pieces on a chessboard and he was the only one playing the game.

That’s when Cayro snapped. His snarl was vicious, his body sliding off the table like a predator ready to pounce, muscles coiled, ready to tear this so-called father apart. I barely managed to grab his arm, my fingers locking onto him, stopping him from lunging at the man who had raised him—or whatever sick version of raising he considered it.

Whoever Dr. Bracton was, this wasn’t Cayro’s father anymore. This man was a twisted reflection, someone who enjoyed seeing his own creations suffer for his own amusement. A god playing with mortals.

Dr. Bracton didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there, an unhinged grin playing on his lips as if the idea of his son ripping him to shreds amused him more than it frightened him. “Well, now that your wounds are patched up, you can leave,” he said dismissively, waving us off like we were nothing more than an experiment that had outlived its usefulness. “Lord Lycotonu is waiting for you outside.”

The man didn’t even bother turning back as he fiddled with something in the medical cabinet, clearly done with us. With every ounce of willpower, I tugged Cayro out of the room, dragging him into the hallway. He didn’t resist, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like a furnace, the barely controlled rage simmering just beneath the surface.

As we stepped out of the clinic room, I turned back to him, ready to say something to calm him down—anything—but when I met his eyes, my heart skipped a beat. His irises weren’t their usual stormy green. They blazed a deep, feral yellow, glowing with the raw power of his more primal side. I swallowed hard. I’d seen Cayro lose control before, but this was different. This was pure, unchecked hunger.

I took a step back. Not out of fear—because deep down, I knew he’d never hurt me—but because we were in a clinic, for God’s sake. We couldn’t do this here.

He followed my retreat, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes never left mine, and there was something predatory, something feral in his gaze that sent a shiver straight through me.

"Why are you backing away from me?" he asked, his voice a deep, guttural growl, the kind that sent a pulse of heat straight down my spine. There was something intoxicating about it, even though I knew this wasn’t the time or place for this.

I bit my lip, shy under the weight of his gaze. “You’re… showing your darker side,” I whispered, my voice trembling, betraying the thrill I was feeling despite the surroundings.

Before I could react, Cayro swept me off my feet in one smooth motion, cradling me in his arms like I weighed nothing. His eyes, still blazing that feral yellow, looked down at me, a sly grin curling his lips. It should have scared me, but instead, I felt a flush of excitement, a rush of adrenaline. My draconian side purred in the back of my mind, enjoying the game of predator and prey. Now isn’t the time, I mentally hissed at her, imagining smashing her over the head with a wrench for good measure. Of course, she only laughed.

Cayro carried me through the clinic’s doors with ease, where Zak and Aura were waiting by the truck. They both raised an eyebrow when they saw me cradled in Cayro’s arms, his eyes still blazing. I pointed back towards the clinic, where I could see Dr. Bracton watching us, a shadowy figure behind the glass doors.

“Family drama,” I mouthed, as Cayro unceremoniously stuffed me into the backseat, climbing in after me without so much as a word.

“Cayro and Dr. Bracton not meshing well?” Aura asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes as she glanced at Cayro, who had me locked tight against his body like a possessive beast.

“You could say that,” I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. Meanwhile, Cayro’s arm was draped protectively over me, his grip almost too tight, like he wasn’t quite himself.

Zak’s eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror, catching sight of his best friend’s now feral gaze. “Why’s he feral?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if the raw, untamed energy radiating from Cayro might pounce at any moment.

“This is what happens when things get… emotional,” I explained, keeping my tone steady. “It’s like his default instinct kicks in and he goes straight into beast mode. The more intense the situation, the faster it happens.”

“I noticed it during the council meeting,” Zak said, his voice thoughtful. “He snapped for a few seconds before reigning it back in. But now…” He trailed off, looking at me again through the mirror, his brow furrowed. “He seems stuck in this—what did you call it? Beast mode?”

I met his gaze through the reflection, feeling Cayro rumble beside me, his voice breaking the silence like gravel grinding under a heavy boot. “You know I’m sitting right here, right? I can speak for myself,” he growled, his voice carrying a raw edge that sent a chill down my spine.

Zak slammed the brakes so hard that the entire truck lurched forward, all of us jerking violently against our seatbelts. Aura and Zak whipped around in their seats, staring at Cayro like he’d just grown another head. I blinked at their stunned faces, completely thrown off by their reaction.

“Zak…” Cayro’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “We may be best friends, but if you pull that crap again, I will kick your ass. I’d rather not have my mate injured, and there’s no fucking way I’m taking her back to that clinic while my father is there.”

The truck was dead silent. Zak and Aura were staring at him, mouths hanging open in disbelief. I had no idea what the hell had them so shocked. Sure, Cayro speaking while in his feral state was new, but… was it really that big of a deal?

“What gives?” I finally asked, breaking the tension. “Why do you two look like you just witnessed a miracle or something?”

Zak blinked a few times before he could finally speak. “Feral wolves don’t talk,” he said, his voice laced with confusion. “When a wolf goes feral, they can’t tap into their humanity. They can’t think rationally, let alone speak.”

Aura was still eyeing Cayro, as if trying to figure out what kind of anomaly she was looking at. “He’s definitely feral. I can feel it… but he’s still him,” she whispered, her tone as bewildered as Zak’s.

Cayro huffed irritably, shifting beside me. “I’m well aware I’m in a feral state, Zak,” he growled. “But something clicked inside me just before our house was attacked back in Virginia. It’s like… I can control it now.”

Zak stared at him like he had just sprouted wings. “That’s impossible. No one controls a feral state. Not even full-blooded Lycotonu.”

Cayro didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be chewing on his words, trying to figure out how to explain the impossible. “I don’t know how, Zak. But it’s like… it’s all connected to her,” he said, casting a heated glance at me. “Something snapped into place that night.”

Aura’s gaze flicked toward me, suspicion and curiosity dancing behind her eyes. “What were you doing before the attack?”

I opened my mouth to answer, and suddenly the realization hit me like a truck. “We had sex for the first time,” I blurted out, everything finally clicking into place.

Zak blinked rapidly, and Aura’s mouth fell open in surprise. I wasn’t about to let the awkwardness settle in, though—I dove inward, reaching for our bond. Sure enough, there it was—pulsing, alive, threading through both of us. It wasn’t just a connection. It was stabilizing him. The feral energy inside Cayro, normally so wild and untamable, was tempered by our bond, as if my presence kept it from overtaking him.

I came out of my trance and met their wide-eyed stares. “It’s our bond,” I said breathlessly. “It’s keeping him grounded.”

“You can see your bond?” Aura asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like the concept was something impossible to grasp.

“Yeah, can’t you?” I replied, confused.

Zak shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. “No… we can feel it, sure, but seeing it? That’s… something else.”

Before we could dive deeper into what that meant, a car flew past us, blaring its horn and rocking the truck. Zak cursed under his breath, turned back around, and pulled the truck back onto the road.

The rest of the ride was silent, tension still thick in the air. Zak pulled up in front of a massive southern-style mansion, the sheer size of it taking me by surprise. The second the truck stopped, Lyra came bounding out of the house, her face lighting up with excitement.

“Alpha! Luna! Luna Bracton made lunch for every—” She cut herself off when she met Cayro’s eyes. Her expression shifted instantly, from excitement to sheer confusion. “Uh… why is Alpha in a feral state?”

Cayro brushed past her with a deadpan tone, his voice cold and detached. “That’s a long and complicated story.”

Lyra stood there, her jaw slack as she watched him head into the house. “Did he just speak while in a feral state?” she whispered, barely able to process what she was seeing.

I gave Lyra a nod, gently taking her hand to guide her back toward the house. Zak and Aura exchanged confused glances but followed close behind, as if trying to piece together an odd puzzle.

We walked into the kitchen, following the scent of something rich and hearty, bubbling away in a massive pot. Mrs. Bracton turned to greet us with a warm smile, as if Cayro wasn’t standing there moments ago with eyes burning yellow like a wildfire.

“Go sit in the dining room,” she announced, as if nothing in the world could phase her. “Lunch will be ready soon.”

I glanced at Cayro. His eyes had reverted back to their usual emerald green, the feral state seemingly vanished without a trace. I blinked, then blinked again. Lyra’s eyes widened in shock as she sat next to me.

“Did Alpha just switch back to normal like flipping a switch?” she whispered, incredulous.

I shrugged, trying to hide my own surprise. Everything about us—our bond, his new control, my own powers—was still so fresh and unpredictable. The fact that he could rein in his beast so quickly? Well, if that was weird for the werewolves, then so be it. At least he was managing it.

As I looked around the table, I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Bracton sitting at the head, radiating authority like a king on his throne. But on the opposite end, Zak sat there, exuding power in his own right. The two stared at each other, tension filling the room like the crackle of electricity before a storm.

Zak opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Mr. Bracton raised a hand, cutting him off. “King of the Wolves or not, Zak, I helped raise you from a pup. You know the rules of this house. I’m the head dick in charge, so stop posturing.”

Zak, the king of wolves, the man who could probably crush most people with a glance, nodded in respect. “As this is your home for the foreseeable future, I’ll respect the Bracton house rules.”

And just like that, the tension snapped, and Mr. Bracton smiled warmly. “Damn good to see you again, Zak.”

Zak returned the smile, the hard edge in his posture softening. “Good to see you too, Mr. Bracton. Aura and I will fill you and Mrs. Bracton in on what’s been happening later tonight. Once things have settled down.”

Mrs. Bracton, still completely unruffled, carried the pot from the kitchen, the smell of the rich, savory sauce filling the room. “We’re looking forward to hearing about your adventures,” she said, her eyes twinkling before turning to Cayro and me. “Is it true that you and Aura are married now?” she asked Zak, while still keeping her gaze suspiciously pinned on us.

“Yes, ma’am,” Aura answered sweetly as she sat next to Zak.

“It’s a shame we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Mrs. Bracton added, her tone sharp with a tinge of accusation. Her eyes never left Cayro and me. “Instead, we found out Cayro and Star were married when we were at a truck stop in the middle of the night.”

Ah, there it was—the passive-aggressive, thinly veiled disappointment. I braced myself for more.

Zak, clearly sensing the rising tension, jumped in. “Our wedding was small, Mrs. Bracton, just our parents and Alpha Malachi in attendance. Things have been... hectic. We didn’t have time for a big celebration.”

Mrs. Bracton’s expression softened slightly at that, but only slightly. “Well, at least your parents could be there. We didn’t get that luxury with Cayro and Star,” she added, her words still carrying that sharp edge.

“Ah, so you’ve been filled in on their bond?” Zak chimed in, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “I spoke with Dr. Volkova at SkyTeam. She was there when the bond solidified. From what I gather, the bond began during their flight from the Autumn to Cedar Rapids, Iowa.”

As Zak continued to explain the mechanics of the bond, the conversation began to shift slightly. The heavy tension eased, though Mrs. Bracton’s gaze never quite left Cayro and me, as if waiting for an opportunity to probe further.

Mr. Bracton chimed in, grabbing a slice of garlic bread from the tray. “Can you explain how this bond works, Zak? I’m not exactly well-versed in werewolf customs.”

Zak nodded, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “In our culture, there are two types of bonds: chosen bonds and fated bonds. A chosen bond is when two wolves decide to bond willingly. It’s the closest thing we have to a human marriage. It can be public or private, depending on the couple’s preference. If it’s private, the bond is sealed simply by the Alpha’s acknowledgment.”

He paused to take a sip of his drink, letting his words sink in before continuing, “But then there are fated bonds. Those are rare, and much more powerful. It’s like destiny itself pulls two wolves together, and once it begins, there’s no breaking it. That’s what Cayro and Star share—a fated bond.”

Mrs. Bracton’s sharp gaze shifted between Zak and Aura, her interest clearly piqued. “What is a fated bond, exactly?” she asked, finally settling into her seat.

Zak set down his glass, leaning forward slightly. "A fated bond is incredibly rare, more so than a chosen bond. It only occurs within the royal bloodlines of the supernatural world, and unlike a chosen bond, it’s... unpredictable. Fated mates are pulled together by something beyond control. It can happen anytime, anywhere—whether you're prepared for it or not." His eyes flickered with the memory as he spoke, recalling his own bond with Aura. “For example, I was just hanging out at home, Aura in my lap, and out of nowhere, we both started saying the bonding ritual in Latin—while my mom walked in from work. We were all confused as hell. But being my Luna, even though she’s human, she acknowledged the bond instantly."

Lyra, sitting next to me, tilted her head. “Wait, your mother’s human, but she could still acknowledge the bond?” she asked.

Zak nodded, a small sigh escaping him. "Yeah. My mother was mated to my father, even though they're... not together anymore."

Cayro’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion creeping into his voice. "I thought Director Staroko and Dr. Volkova were bonded?"

At the mention of his father, Zak’s expression turned sour. He waved off the comment, clearly irritated. “That’s a long, ugly story, and one I’d prefer not to dive into right now.”

But Aura, sitting beside him, wasn't having it. Her eyes flashed with anger, the tension between them palpable. "Zak may not want to spill the details, but I definitely do."

Zak visibly stiffened, irritation etched on his face. "Not now, Babe..." he started, but Aura was already on a roll.

"Yes, now," she snapped. "Your father did your mom dirty, and it's time people understood what happened."

Zak huffed, clearly defeated. "Fine," he grumbled.

The entire table went silent. Everyone, including Mrs. Bracton, was watching Aura, waiting for the drama to unfold. She didn't disappoint.

"The thing about being the King of the Wolves,” she began, “is that when it comes to mating, the king doesn’t need anyone to witness the bond. He can declare it on his own. I mean, who’s going to tell the king he can’t mate someone, right?" She took a sip of her wine, pausing for dramatic effect. "So, Zak’s father—being the romantic idiot he is—met Zak’s mom at some tech conference. They hit it off fast, and he decided to bond with her. The problem? She’d just started working for a competitor of SkyTeam Aerospace."

A murmur of interest rippled through the room. I could feel Cayro’s confusion matching my own as we absorbed the sudden shift from bonding rituals to corporate warfare.

Aura’s voice turned icy. “That’s right. Director Staroko—Zak’s father—being the Director of SkyTeam created a massive conflict of interest. And we all know how stubborn Zak’s mom can be. So, when his father tried offering her a job at SkyTeam, she told him to shove it. They were competitors. Neither of them was willing to give up their position.”

Zak, rolling his eyes, muttered something under his breath. Aura shot him a glare. "Don't roll your eyes, you know I’m right."

Zak crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as if bracing for the storm. “Yeah, yeah…”

Aura, clearly not finished, continued. "So, what does Zak’s dad do? He binds her to him, makes her his Luna—basically Queen of the Wolves—then abandons her and Zak because he couldn’t give up SkyTeam. It’s why, when Zak and I bonded, his mother was able to declare the bond official—because, technically, she was still Queen."

Zak sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the story being aired out. “It was... awkward, to say the least. Our bond kicked in when we were still in high school.”

Cayro leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Did you two realize it was the mate bond?”

“Yes, but not to the extent of what we know now,” Aura replied, her tone edged with quiet understanding. “Ms. Hollis knew about werewolves because of Director Staroko and, well, Zak, of course. But dear old dad left out a critical detail—he didn’t tell her he was the king, or that Zak was next in line. When they split—since neither was willing to give up their careers—she wasn’t given all the information she needed. Luckily, my dad, being the cop who deals with the supernatural, was able to help Ms. Hollis and Zak through it.”

“That’s right,” Cayro interjected, his eyes narrowing slightly as if connecting dots in his mind. “Mr. Copeland was around a lot before you two even started dating. I always wondered if he had something going on with Ms. Hollis since he was always visiting her and Zak.”

Zak shook his head, smirking slightly. “No, he was there to help me with being a werewolf. My mom wouldn’t let me join a pack. She was terrified I’d disappear. Mr. Copeland had contacts—some local werewolves who gave him advice. That’s all it was.”

I tilted my head, curiosity tugging at me. “So if Mr. Copeland was around for so long, why didn’t you meet Aura sooner?”

Zak glanced briefly at Aura before she took over, her voice dropping to a softer note. “Because my father didn’t want me pulled into this world. And on top of that, we were dealing with my mom’s cancer. She passed, and a few days later, I… wasn’t myself. I was on my way home when I got attacked. Zak was nearby, and well… you know the rest. He became my rock after that.”

Lyra, sitting nearby, let out a soft sigh. “Damn, Lady Lycotonu… that’s a rough story.”

Aura nodded, though a faint smile touched her lips. “It was Zak who was there for me when I needed someone. And when he introduced me to Cayro, I felt like I’d found a family. People I could lean on.”

Mr. Bracton, clearly trying to piece everything together, spoke up. “So, from what I gather, Star and Cayro’s bond is similar to yours?”

Zak tilted his head slightly, giving Aura a moment to catch her breath. “Yes and no,” he said.

Mr. Bracton raised a brow. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”

Zak leaned back, thoughtful. “Star and Cayro’s bond has the same foundation as Aura’s and mine—it’s a royal bond. But with Star being Draconian and Cayro being a werewolf hybrid, there’s more going on here. Their bond is unique in a way that’s still evolving.”

Mrs. Bracton, curious, pressed on. “Unique how?”

Zak paused, glancing our way. “That’s something you’d need to ask them directly. But given their augmentations and the tech they’ve got in them… let’s just say their bond is probably unlike anything we’ve seen before.”

Mr. Bracton crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing slightly as he fixed it on Cayro and me. “Well, all that aside, they’re married in the eyes of the supernatural world. But Mrs. Bracton and I aren’t too thrilled about how we found out.”

Zak smiled, clearly catching on. “We can fix that easily.”

Aura’s face lit up. “A full ceremony! We could do the whole thing right.”

I glanced quickly at Cayro, and he was already looking back at me. The idea of a wedding, a real one, was something I had never really imagined. We’d bonded, sure—but this was different. A ceremony meant something public, formal, and symbolic in a way that our bond wasn’t. Cayro’s expression mirrored my concern, and I saw him gnaw on his lower lip.

Mrs. Bracton cleared her throat gently, her eyes soft and full of kindness as she asked, “Star? Cayro? Would you two want to get married, traditionally?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Marriage… the thought of it swirled in my mind, overwhelming. But then, I felt Cayro’s presence slip into my chaotic thoughts, calming me in the way only he could. He raised his hand, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Could you give Star and me a moment to talk?” he asked, his voice steady.

The group started to rise, but Cayro shook his head slightly. “No need to leave, just give us a few minutes.”

There were a few strange glances, but everyone stayed seated. Cayro turned to me, a silent gesture, gently tapping my temple. I understood. He wanted us to speak in our mental space. Leaning my forehead against his, I closed my eyes and drifted with him.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing next a plush loveseat in front of a warm fireplace. A heavy coffee table sat between it and the fire, its surface etched with ornate designs. And sitting on the arm of the loveseat, as smug as ever, was Scuzball. He purred as Cayro absentmindedly stroked his digital fur.

I sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing Cayro. He was stroking Scuzball’s digital fur, his glowing emerald eyes fixed on me, waiting. The problem was, I had no idea what to feel.

“Cayro?” I began, nervously fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “I don’t know what to think about all of this.”

Scuzball, ever the charming nuisance, snorted before hopping across Cayro’s lap to the other side of the couch. “What’s there to think about?” he asked, his snark cutting through the tension.

“It’s a huge decision, Scuzball,” Cayro replied, his tone flat but serious.

“But is it, though?” Scuzball tilted his head, eyes narrowing in digital condescension. “Do you not love each other? And don’t even bother lying. I may be an AI, but I’m excellent with data. Your biological readings go off the charts when you’re together.”

“That’s not what marriage is about,” I said, my voice equally flat, my thoughts still swirling.

“Oh please, Star. You and Cayro are basically a match made in werewolf myth-land—if you believe in that ‘fated mate’ nonsense. But forget all that. I deal in facts. And the hard data screams that you’re perfectly synced. Want proof?” Scuzball snapped his digital tail, and several graphs appeared in the air.

Both Cayro and I stared blankly at the graphs, completely lost, until Scuzball started explaining. He pointed at each one, overlaying them to show us the results. Our heart rate graphs lined up perfectly. Our neural responses, though opposites, formed a synchronized pattern, like two sine waves complementing each other. Every graph he showed us was either in complete sync or balancing in perfect symmetry. It was like we were two halves of a whole.

“Marriage,” Scuzball continued, with the air of someone explaining something to children, “is a partnership. A formal declaration of what you two already know—you’re in this for the long haul. If anyone should know how much you two care about each other, it’s me. After all, you keep forgetting one important fact.”

“Oh yeah? And what fact is that?” Cayro asked, raising an eyebrow. I had to stifle a grin because I knew exactly where this was going.

Scuzball gave him a flat, unimpressed look. Before he could say anything, I cut him off.

“Babe, Scuzball is literally a part of us,” I said, gesturing around at the digital room we were sitting in. “This augmented reality? It’s proof. We’re able to share a mental space with him. A space where we can retreat, together, when things get too much.”

“Hmph, took you long enough to figure that out,” Scuzball sniffed, impatient as ever.

“Oh hush, Scuzball,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “It’s been chaotic lately. Plus, you didn’t exactly make it easy to figure out.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your tail in a twist,” he huffed, but the playful edge never left his voice.

I turned my attention back to Cayro. “Anyway, does it really matter if we get married? I already know I want you with me forever. You’re it for me.”

Cayro pulled me off the coffee table and into his lap, his arms encircling me in a familiar, comforting embrace. “You’re right. Marriage is just a formality, a piece of paper saying what we already know. You’re my partner for life. That’s all that matters,” he said softly, before pressing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss.

I kissed him back, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Pulling away, I smiled. “We should probably let the others know.”

Cayro nodded, and I closed my eyes, opening them again to find myself back in the dining room. The moment I did, I froze, seeing everyone staring at us like we’d grown an extra head.

“What?” Cayro asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Lyra was the first to speak, arching an eyebrow. “We thought you two needed privacy to talk. But instead, you just sat there with your foreheads touching, like you fell asleep. We’ve been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes.”

“We did talk about it,” Cayro said with a sly grin, knowing full well the confusion that was about to hit.

“How?” Mrs. Bracton asked, clearly baffled.

“We’re able to talk up here.” Cayro tapped his temple, and that only deepened the confusion in the room.

“The two of you can communicate telepathically?” Mr. Bracton’s curiosity was piqued, but even he seemed wary of where this was going.

“Eh… not quite,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “It’s more like… an augmented reality. We can meet mentally, talk to each other there, and, of course, Scuzball tags along.” I said it casually, like I was talking about the weather, though I couldn’t help but enjoy the looks of utter disbelief plastered across their faces.

The silence that followed was priceless. I grinned, that infamous grin of mine, and turned to Cayro. “Should we tell them?”

Cayro didn’t bother with an answer. Instead, he just stood up and walked out the door. Moments later, the distinct sound of the skycar engines filled the air, the machine swooping down and landing outside next to Zak’s truck. My mouth dropped open in disbelief when I saw him casually climb in and take off, leaving me behind.

I snapped my head back toward the room, seething with barely contained fury. Zak was the closest target. “Are there any tools here?” I growled.

Zak arched an eyebrow but said nothing as he led me to the garage. I stalked over to the nearest toolbox and started yanking drawers open, rummaging through them with a singular focus. I found what I needed in the third drawer: a one-and-a-half-inch box wrench. Gripping it tightly, I stormed back into the dining room, plopped myself back down at the table, and set the wrench beside my plate with a thud. No one said a word, but I could feel their eyes nervously darting between me and the wrench.

Fifteen minutes passed before the familiar roar of the skycar signaled Cayro’s return. My rage simmered beneath the surface, but I forced myself to wait. He’d left me in the middle of something important, and I wanted to make sure this lesson stuck.

Cayro walked into the room, everyone’s eyes snapping to him as one. I narrowed my gaze at him, my anger seething just beneath the surface. He froze the moment he saw the wrench resting next to my plate, swallowing hard.

“What did I miss?” he asked cautiously, sensing the rising tension.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mr. Bracton deadpanned. “You just left Star hanging when you were about to tell us your decision, and bolted out of the house.”

I stood up, wrench in hand, and stalked toward Cayro, letting the heavy tool hang menacingly at my side. “You better have a damn good reason why you just vanished like that,” I growled, my voice dripping with fury. “Or this time, I’m not missing.”

Cayro gulped again, raising the box that his grandfather had given him up. Slowly, he opened it to reveal two rings sitting next to his pistol. “I figured if we were going to do this,” he said quietly, “I wanted to do it right.”

My eyes dropped to the rings, my anger wavering. He knelt down in front of me, picking up the feminine ring from the box and holding it out. “Star Tabitha Zaraki,” he began, using my middle name, which almost made me reconsider the wrench. “Will you accept my hand in marriage and be my partner and wife in this chaos we call life?”

For a moment, I stood there, wrench still clutched in my hand, torn between wanting to knock him upside the head and appreciating how much effort he was putting into making this moment special. Biting my lip, I turned and handed the wrench to Lyra, who took it with wide eyes.

Turning back to Cayro, I offered him my left hand. “Yes, I will.”

He slid the ring onto my finger with a smile, standing to pull me into his arms. I didn’t hesitate to kiss him, letting all the emotions of joy and relief spill into that moment, wrapping us both in the warmth of our bond.