This story contains references to child abuse, child death, and drowning. While these events are not graphically depicted, some readers may find the subject matter distressing.

Reader discretion is advised.

This happened many years ago. My grandmother lived in a small house on a plot of land with a pond and a large tree in the backyard. The tree was massive—easily big enough for a treehouse if anyone had ever bothered to build one. That was where I met my imaginary friend. She had curly hair, blue eyes, and skin that was incredibly pale compared to mine. We played together every single day, laughing, coloring, and sharing my dolls. She never left my side, even staying to play late into the night. My mother used to get furious with me for staying up and messing around when I should have been asleep.

Eventually, my mother became worried that this imaginary friend was becoming a serious problem, so she took me to the doctor. “My daughter is spending all her time with this imaginary friend,” she told him. “Is it healthy for her?” The doctor reassured her that it was perfectly fine. I showed no signs of distress; I was simply an overly imaginative child. But when we got home, my mother told me I had to stop playing with her. It was scaring her. She told me it creeped her out to come home and find me laughing and talking directly to my bedroom mirror.

A few days later, my grandmother started asking me questions about her.

“Stephanie, who is this imaginary friend of yours?”

I smiled. “Sarah.”

She nodded. “And where does Sarah live?”

We were sitting in the kitchen, so I pointed out the window toward the massive tree behind the house. “She lives right there, Grandma.”

My grandmother looked troubled. She was genuinely worried that a real neighborhood girl might be hiding out in the woods. She had my grandfather go out and check the tree, but he found no one. There were, however, signs that someone used to hang out there. An old rope with a weathered wooden board tied to it hung from one of the branches.

My grandmother started asking me much more specific questions about Sarah.

“Did she live here?”

I just smiled at her and repeated, “She lives back there, Grandma.”

My grandmother pressed further, her voice serious. “No, Stephanie. Did she used to live in this house?”

I nodded sadly. “Her daddy hurt her and threw her away.”

My grandmother became deeply concerned after that.

A few days later, she contacted the woman she had bought the property from just a few months prior. “My granddaughter keeps talking to a girl named Sarah,” my grandmother explained. “Did anyone by that name ever live here?”

The woman hesitated, then replied, “Actually, yes. She’s the resident ghost.”

When my grandmother mentioned that I claimed Sarah lived by the tree in the backyard, the woman’s tone turned incredibly sad. “Yes. Her father did terrible things to her, and he drowned her in the pond out back.”

She then asked my grandmother if I had ever described what Sarah looked like. My grandmother explained that I had described her down to a T.

The woman nodded solemnly on the other end of the line. “Yes. That is Sarah.”

After that conversation, my grandmother decided right then and there that we were moving out of that house. I never saw Sarah again. But apparently, as we were driving away from the property for the last time, my grandmother saw me look out the window and wave.

“Goodbye, Sarah,” I whispered.

Devastating feeling to realize you have an ocean of love to give, but the people you choose only know how to let it go to waste.

I thought I deserved a love that was true,
A meaningful spark that was solid and new.
I wanted to matter, to heal and to hold,
To be the safe haven when winters grew cold.
I gave every piece of the heart in my chest,
Believing that someone would give me their best.

But I guess I was wrong, and the pattern repeats,
As I walk through the fallout of empty-room streets.
I’m excellent at picking the ones who will leave,
And weaving the promises I still believe.
I master the art of the shatter and ache,
Knowing exactly which promises break.

I poured out a river of endless devotion,
An unmapped, unbothered, and bottomless ocean.
I gave them the patience, the warmth, and the light,
The kind of safe harbor that shelters the night.
But nobody held it, or thought it was worth
The deepest, most beautiful love on this earth.

So I’m left with the quiet, the ache, and the doubt,
Forgetting what life and what love are about.
I was clearly mistaken, out here on my own
I give them a kingdom, they leave me alone.

The werewolf driver glared at me over the steering wheel. “C’mon, sweetheart. I ain’t runnin’ a charity. I got a goblin droppin’ gold teeth for a ride, and you’re holdin’ up business.”

I rolled my eyes, tossing him a golden Stitch button. His eyes lit up instantly. “Sweetheart, this real?”

I ignored him, stepping out into the crisp autumn air. “Thanks for the ride, pup.” I slammed the door, watching him speed off. Other monsters bustled down the street, including a Chimera food cart that smelled heavenly, but I had a meeting to get to.

I pushed open the heavy front door, immediately hearing a loud thud behind me as the big U from the sign fell flat onto the pavement. This place was a total mess! A banshee sat behind the front desk, looking up lazily from a crossword puzzle.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

I crossed my arms. “Well, I could have been crushed by your falling letter out there. Get someone to clean that up!”

She frowned, looking flustered. “Sorry, of course, right away. Let me call one of our guys down.”

Two bulky maintenance guys in uniform trudged down the stairs. “Gladius, the elevators are down again. What do you need?”

She gestured toward the door. “The letters are dangerous; go fix them!”

The taller one growled, “We ain’t doing it, Ms. Gladius. What if it falls on us, toos?”

I pressed my lips together and flicked my whip through the air. The vampire maintenance guy didn’t flinch, but the hobgoblin jumped. “The lady asked you to do something, so do it!”

The men grumbled and shuffled out the door toward the broken U blocking the road.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the banshee said, sounding genuinely grateful. “They never take me seriously around here.”

I nodded. “I’m here for a meeting with a Zed RotBerg. Can you point me in the right direction?”

She giggled behind her hand. “Zed RotBerg, really?”

I frowned, planting my hands on my hips. “What’s so funny?”

The ice-blue-eyed banshee shook her head. “Oh, honey, he’s the worst. Once you meet him, you’ll understand.”

Ignoring her warning, I followed the directions to the fifth floor, noting her parting instruction: “Oh, and you have to take the stairs.”

What a fantastic start to the day. A broken elevator and a climb to the fifth floor. This place desperately needed an overhaul. I took the steps two at a time, reciting my therapist’s breathing mantra to keep my temper in check.

“Bellamy, you can’t just go breaking people’s arms when it’s convenient. Let’s try counting.”

I could still picture my purple-haired harpy therapist staring me down over her glasses. “No, Bellamy, I didn’t mean to use your whip and count. I meant sit and meditate on something you enjoy.”

I had smiled at her then. “Ah, like ripping arms off people?”

She had merely facepalmed. “We’ll try again later, Bellamy.”

When I finally reached the fifth floor, I shoved open a heavy door. A goblin zoomed past me, desperately chasing a scattered stack of folders. This floor looked just as run-down as the rest of the building; peeling wallpaper revealed rotting wood beneath, and several desks were literally being held together by Kraken tape.

A satyr with piercing green eyes stared at me, looking as though he were peering straight into my soul. He stalked over. “You the new girl?”

I smirked. “Yes, Bellamy Stitchwell. I’m here for a meeting with Mr. RotBerg.”

Without offering his name, he pointed toward an unmarked office door. “He’ll meet you in there. I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

He walked away, leaving me exposed to a four-foot goblin who was glaring at me. “Eyes up here, small fry!”

The goblin squeaked and scurried back to his paperwork. I looked around the empty office room, which featured a long meeting table surrounded by nine mismatched chairs. Pulling out the chair closest to the window, I sat down and opened Kraken book Messenger.

Auria: Hey, I wanted to make sure you went to the job I recommended.

Bellamy: Yes, I am here just waiting on this guy now. Better not be wasting my time, Auria. This place is a shitshow.

Auria: It’s run-down, sure, but they are the best in the business. The higher-ups are at fault for the place’s run-down state.

Bellamy: They better be. I need to get out of this city. Auria, Scaris is calling my name.

The door clicked open, and a tall, dark, and handsome man walked in. I wasn’t expecting him to be a Monster. He wore a crisp white button-up shirt, a slightly crooked black tie, and jeans. Casual Friday, apparently. He gave me an appraising look, though he kept it polite.

I wanted to break the ice, so I offered a confident smile. “Well, I guess you’re my new handler, huh?”

He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite me. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Stitchwell. I know you don’t want to be here, and clearly, I haven’t handled a hunter who actually wants to work with me.”

No one had ever had the guts to be this blunt, this honest, and this… hot. “Do you even know what, or who, I am?”

He glanced down at my file, then back up. “Clearly someone important. I haven’t handled a bounty hunter in over a year.”

What was the catch? Why saddle me with some low-level office drone who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else? “You haven’t handled anyone in a year?”

I could tell he was getting annoyed. His right eye twitched slightly, and his left hand jittered a dead giveaway that he was a terrible poker player.

“Look, Ms. Stitchwell, no one likes working with me. But this is where we are right now. If you don’t want to do this, then tell my boss you want a different handler.”

My own annoyance flared, but I smiled, crossing my arms. “And why, exactly, would no one want to work with you, Zed?”

He glared at me with those dark, piercing eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

I loved it. He had fire, spunk, and an underlying tension that made me desperately want him as my handler. My hand drifted to my side, curling around the handle of my whip in excitement. “I like you, Zeddy. We’re going to work great together.”

His eyes went wide with shock. “Zeddy? Did you call me Zeddy?”

I nodded, standing up and stepping right up to his side of the desk, placing my hands firmly on either side of him to keep him in place. “I don’t just give anyone a nickname, Zeddy boy. I like you… You’ve got fire.”

A sultry, rough whimper escaped him completely, utterly arousing. But as he opened his mouth to respond, something long and pale slipped out, still tinged with pink.

“You’ve got something hanging off your… wait, is that your tongue?”

He spat forward in a panic, his detached tongue shooting right onto the table in front of him. Groaning in sheer embarrassment, he snatched it up off the table and bolted out of the room.

Outside in the bullpen, muffled snickering erupted before a man yelled, “Keep your fucking mouths shut, or I’ll shut ‘em for you!”

I stepped out into the office just as a red-haired coworker was tending to Zed with emergency medical supplies. The man noticed me first and smiled. I offered a concerned nod. “Is he okay?”

Zed blushed a deep, dark green. “Ms. Stitchwell…”

I giggled, crossing my arms with a sharp glint in my eyes. “Call me Ms. Stitchwell again, and I’ll put you in stitches!”

He coughed a rugged, sexy Monster cough. Why did he have to be so attractive?

“I apologize, Bellamy. I look forward to working with you.”

I leaned down into his personal space, our noses brushing ever so slightly. I could feel the delicious heat radiating from him. “Call me Bell,” I whispered with a sharp wink. Standing up, I offered a slow, teasing smile. “I’ve got some work to do elsewhere before we start tomorrow.”

I swayed my hips on my way out, hoping to coax out one last whimper. “Don’t work too hard, Zeddy. We have plenty to do, and I like to get started early.”

A werebear with half-moon spectacles hanging off his snout glared over at Zed. “Zed! Stop messing around and get back to work. I don’t pay you to ogle the new girl!”

As I headed for the stairs, I paused by Zed’s desk. It was piled high with papers, a half-full coffee mug, and a small picture frame of two cute kittens. Smiling quietly, I pulled out my stress squishy keychain from my dress pocket and placed it right on top of the stack. Then, I turned and disappeared towards the stairwell.

The climb down didn’t bother me anymore; today had given me a renewed sense of purpose. I couldn’t wait to get further under Zed’s skin and see how far I could push him before he broke.

Downstairs, Ms. Gladius was sitting at her desk, deeply engrossed in her phone. “Ghouls and ghoulets, today on Roshel’s What I Did Today…” She paused when she saw me. “Oh, Ms. Stitchwell, need anything else?”

I sighed. “Really, Bootok? How many followers do you even have?”

She slumped. “Actually, just my mother and two sisters.”

Frowning, I pulled out my phone. “Okay, give me your handle.”

Roshel hesitated before showing me her screen. “It’s nothing special, just family stuff.”

I shushed her, typed her name into the search bar, and hit follow. “There. Now you have four.”

She smiled warmly and thanked me. As I pushed open the front doors into the humid afternoon air, I tossed out a final warning: “Oh, and if I ever hear you laugh at or make fun of Zed again, I will make your life a living hell.”

She gasped behind me as I stepped out into the street, greeted by the noise of traffic, laughing children, and the rich, greasy smell of hot dogs. A tall, bulky chimera stood behind a food cart, pointing his tongs at me. “I saw you eyeing my cart, kid. What can I get ya?”

I smiled, surveying the options. “Everything looks appealing. Give me one with everything.”

The Chimera laughed. “A lady who knows what she wants. I like that.”

He grabbed a fresh bun, laying the meat in the center before piling on onions, peppers, mustard, relish, and mayonnaise even though the thought of that creamy stuff usually made me gag. But I was hungry, and it smelled incredible.

I pulled a stitched coin from my dress pocket and set it down on the counter. The vendor stared at it, whispering under his breath about court money, before looking back up at me for a long beat.

“Hey, this one is on the house.”

I nodded in thanks, grabbing my hot dog and walking toward a waiting cab. I had no idea things were about to get a whole lot messier, and for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t wait.

🦴To Stay🫀 - (Monster Series 1)

🪦Grave-Dusted and Corporate Bound💼

All rights reserved

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

Fiction

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

Moral rights

Lutherin C. Taralom asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

External content

Lutherin C. Taralom has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

This was inspired by Gargoyles, the Animated series, which started as a fan love letter with OC characters and just mentions of the original cast. I knew it had to be something so much more. So step inside for the long haul through the Realmshift universe.

1. 🖋️Meet the Author🖋️

2. ❤️‍Dedication & Acknowledgments & Epigraph❤️‍

🦴All rights reserved🦴

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

🦴Fiction🦴

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

🦴Moral rights🦴

Lutherin C. Taralom asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

🦴External content🦴

Lutherin C. Taralom has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

🦴Designations🦴

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

This is part of a long series inspired by Gargoyles, the Animated series, which started as a fan love letter with OC characters and just mentions of the original cast. I knew it had to be something so much more. So step inside for the long haul through the Realmshift universe.

1. 🖋️Meet the Author🖋️

2. ❤️‍Dedication & Acknowledgments & Epigraph❤️‍ [Will be Removed]

3. 🪦Grave-Dusted and Corporate Bound💼

4. 🧵The Worst Handler☕

A fluid, melodic language tied to magic, emotion, and fate. Often spoken in whispers or soft commands.

Core Words

• Sae, love (deep, binding)

• Lythea, repair, restore

• Sylth, reverse, undo

• Thae, to call / to name

• Vaera, fate

• Vaesh’kar, bloodstone

Notable Phrase

• Thal el Hawthorn Vaesh’kar, Dagger of Hawthorne Bloodstone

Kharven Tal (Hunters’ Tongue)

A grounded, weathered dialect used by the Old Hunters. Direct, practical, and often sharpened by emotion.

Core Words

• Varn, hunter

• Kelra, gargoyle

• Thal, blade

• Zereth, kill

• Dravan, track/pursue

• Ulth, oath

Old Tongue

• Vorgael, old ways / ancient speech

• Sakthul, hunter (ritual/ancient form)

Common Terms

• Ael, you (often used harshly)

• Shul, silence / be quiet

Recognizable Phrases

• Peth shul, shut your mouth

• Vorgael shul, traitor to the old ways

• Katal shakti, tainted / hybrid (insult)

• Vostak, stand down

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Epilogue🔥Owning the Shadows🌑

For Jason, the silence wasn’t an empty, terrifying void anymore; it was a masterpiece of his own design. It was the sound of a perimeter that finally, for the first time in his life, held firm.

Aria sat by the massive hearth in the living room, the very one she had helped Jason set months ago during that humid, sweat-slicked July afternoon. The obsidian stone she had heaved into place now radiated a deep, steady warmth that seemed to soak into the very bones of the building. She was deep into her seventh month now, and her human form was a constant, exhausting struggle against the laws of gravity. Her wings, too heavy and restless to be fully tucked away, draped across the plush, oversized rug like a velvet cloak of stone-tan.

She was currently glaring at a wooden bowl of pomegranate seeds as if the tiny red gems had personally offended her ancestors.

“Still want the deer heart, or are we negotiating with the fruit again?”

Jason’s voice echoed through the vaulted ceiling, warm and grounded. He emerged from the shadows of the newly finished kitchen, wiping a smudge of grease from his forearm with a rag. He looked more like a man than a cadet now. The dark, tactical beard was neatly trimmed, his gaze was steady and soft rather than scanning for threats, and his matte-black tactical suit had been traded for a heavy charcoal wool sweater. It was a soft garment, but it couldn’t quite hide the way his shoulders had broadened from months of hauling stone, timber, and the weight of a family.

“The baby wants the heart,” Aria grumbled, patting the rhythmic, powerful thrumming in her stomach. “I want a nap that lasts until the middle of March. Maybe April. Maybe until she’s old enough to fly herself to the kitchen.”

Jason knelt beside her on the rug, his movements fluid and precise, the grace of a predator turned protector. His hands, the hands of a soldier, an architect, and now, a husband, found the warm swell of her belly. He waited in silence, his gray eyes softening as he searched for a sign.

A second later, the baby gave a vigorous, defiant jolt against his palm, a sharp kick that sent a ripple across Aria’s skin.

“She’s building her own battlements in there,” Jason whispered, a genuine smile breaking through his usual reserve. It was a smile that didn’t reach for a mask.

“Calculated strikes. High-density impact. She’s definitely yours, Jason.” Aria leaned her head against his shoulder, letting out a low, vibrating purr that Jason could feel deep in his own chest, a resonance that calmed the lingering static in his mind.

“Is the perimeter secure, Architect? You’ve been in the basement for three hours. I was starting to think you’d moved back in with the water heater.”

Jason looked toward the high, arched windows. To a casual observer, they were just beautiful Gothic fixtures. But Jason knew the truth behind the aesthetics. He had secretly installed a series of haptic sensors into the frames and reinforced steel shutters hidden behind the fake windows, all linked to a silent, encrypted alarm in the armory he’d built beneath the floorboards.

He knew his parents, the Matriarch and the Director, were still out there, ghosts in the Facility’s machine, likely analyzing their failure. He knew they were waiting for a single lapse in judgment.

“The perimeter is solid,” he said, kissing her temple, the scent of vanilla and wood smoke filling his lungs. “But for the record? I’m more worried about the nursery than the Facility right now. Michael sent over the wallpaper he bought us for the baby shower. One of them is a neon, radioactive green. I think he’s trying to sabotage our interior design as a prank.”

Aria laughed, a bright, musical sound that seemed to chase the last of the winter shadows from the corners of the hall. “We’ll fix it. We fix everything, Jason. That’s what we do. We’re a repair crew for broken lives.”

As the sun dipped below the jagged horizon, painting the snow in bruised, beautiful shades of violet and gold, the Clan waited on the battlements above. The low, resonant thrum of Houston and Rivera’s voices drifted down the chimney, a gargoyle lullaby, ancient and stone-deep, for the family nesting below.

Jason stood, offering Aria a hand to pull her up from the rug. He led her toward the grand staircase, his hand lingering protectively on the small of her back. They passed the nursery, where the “Wolf and Gargoyle” crib, hand-carved from oak and lined with silk, sat waiting in the center of the room. It was a room filled with light and potential, a far cry from the sterile, white-tiled cells of Shadow Bastion.

Jason paused at the door, his fingers interlacing with Aria’s obsidian claws. He had once been a weapon without a name, a boy without a birthday, and a hunter without a home. He had been a “Unit” meant for destruction. But as he looked at his wife and the life they were about to bring into the world, he realized he wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was building a legacy that couldn’t be wiped by a machine or overwritten by a command.

“I love you, Aria Mendoza,” he murmured into the quiet, sacred space of the hallway.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes glowing a soft, contented purple in the dark. “And you have exactly ten weeks to finish that rocking chair in the garage, Hunter. Don’t think I haven’t seen the blueprints on your desk. If it’s not done by the due date, I’m making you sleep in the armory.”

Jason chuckled, the last of the Compound’s ice finally melting away into a memory. The winter was long, and the world was still a dangerous place for a hybrid and a defector, but for the first time in his life, Jason Mendoza wasn’t afraid of what lived in the dark. He was the one who owned the shadows now, and he was using them to keep his family warm.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 63🐺 Bringer of Good News🌟

📜 Appendix: Languages of the Realm 🗝️

Aria sat at the vanity, her wings pinned awkwardly beneath the heavy, reinforced silk of her white gown. “The dress isn’t fitting right, Gwen! I look like a boulder with lace!” Aria’s voice cracked, her hand pressing against the firm swell of her stomach.

Gwen didn’t flinch. She grabbed a damp cloth, wiping away a smear of mascara with a grandmother’s practiced precision. “Shush, now. You aren’t fat; you’re carrying a life. I knew we’d need to let out some stitches at the final hour.” She pulled a silver sewing kit from her bag, her fingers moving with the speed of a lightning strike. “Postpone it? Not on my watch. Sit still and let me fix this.”

Across the hall, the atmosphere was just as volatile. Michael was trying to help Jason with his tie, but Jason’s hands were shaking with a fine, electric tremor that made the silk slip through his fingers.

Ethan pushed into the room, his gruff, mountainous presence filling the space and settling the air. “Move, boy. Let me show you how it’s done.” He shoved Michael aside with a grunt. Jason stood frozen as Ethan’s large, calloused hands began to form a perfect Four-In-Hand knot.

Ethan sighed, his voice softening into something rare as he saw Jason’s eyes well up. “Oh, lord. Not you, too. Between you and her, I’m drowning in salt water today.”

Jason cleared his throat, his voice a jagged, raw whisper. “He… he never did this for me. The Director never even showed me how to wear a suit. I was always in a tactical vest or a hospital gown.”

Ethan’s expression hardened for a split second before his gaze turned warm. “We don’t think about those monsters tonight. Tonight is you and Aria. You’re my son today, Jason. Remember that. A son deserves a good tie.”

Outside, the music began to drift on the salt air, a soft, acoustic melody. The guest list was small and tightly vetted: the Vandoores and a few trusted employees of the architectural firm.

Michelle Vandoore gripped Richard’s hand, her eyes wide as she looked at the “stony” guests sitting in the front row. Houston sat tall, his skin the color of granite in the twilight. “Richard, what are those things?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Aria’s family, honey,” Richard whispered back, remarkably calm for a man sitting next to a seven-foot gargoyle. “I might have mentioned she isn’t… well, human. Just smile and nod.”

The preacher, Victor, looked like he was vibrating out of his skin as Houston shifted his weight nearby, the sound like tectonic plates grinding. Victor checked his watch every ten seconds, mumbling, “You can do this, Victor. It’s just a wedding. A very, very stony wedding.”

Then, the heavy cedar doors to the beach house opened. Jason’s heart didn’t just skip; it felt like it stopped beating entirely.

Aria walked down the aisle on Ethan’s arm, looking like a dream carved from ancient marble, vulnerable, powerful, and radiant. The silk of her dress shimmered like the sea, and for the first time, she wasn’t hiding her strength.

Victor pulled at his collar, his voice shaky but determined. “Dearly beloved… and, uh, esteemed guests of the… stony variety? We are gathered here today, briefly! Marriage requires bravery. Jason, your vows.”

Jason took Aria’s hands. The “Soldier” was gone, the “Unit” deleted. “Aria, I grew up in a world of cold stone and shadow. I was a hunter who didn’t know I was lost until I found you in that cell. You saw the man beneath the weapons. Thank you for teaching me that I’m finally allowed to be happy.”

Aria’s tears fell freely now, tracing below her on the sand. “Jason, you were the first person who didn’t look at me as a mystery to solve or a monster to hunt; you just looked at me as a girl. Thank you for choosing me when you didn’t have to.”

The words were spoken, and the rings slid home: one on a scarred human hand, one on a hand with sharp obsidian nails.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” Victor shouted, eager to reach the reception. “You may now kiss the bride! Please, do it fast before they eat me!”

Jason lifted Aria’s veil, his thumbs catching her tears. “Why the crying, Mrs. Mendoza?”

“I’m fat,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a mischievous joy.

“Fat?” Jason leaned in, his forehead against hers. “I just see the woman I love, carrying our future.”

Aria leaned into his ear, her voice a secret meant only for him, a gift she’d carried from the clinic. “Our daughter, Jason.” He held her close, letting out the last stressful breath he had been holding since the pregnancy news hit them. “A daughter…”

The night was a blur of salt air, soft linen, and the realization that the world had changed. Aria and Jason both made sure the clan wouldn’t be bothered into the next morning.

Later, in the quiet of their room, Aria ran her hands over the ink of Jason’s Fenrir tattoo, faded now, like a ghost of the life he’d left behind in the pits.

“I’ve spent my life knowing exactly where a blade hits, Aria,” Jason groaned softly, his protective instincts flaring even in the quiet. “I’m not taking a ‘leap of faith’ with our daughter’s safety. Not tonight.”

The fight they had been having for months resurfaced. Aria sat up, her purple eyes flashing with that familiar, fiery gargoyle spirit. “We are not fighting about your over-protectiveness on our wedding night, Jason! I am perfectly capable of flying with a passenger!”

His protest died on a harsh breath as she leaned in, kissing him, claws digging into his chest.

The harsh noon light spilled across the bed the next morning. Jason sat up, a sharp, stinging throb radiating from a jagged scratch on his chest, a souvenir from Aria’s gift in the heat of the night. He looked at the mark and smiled. It was a human injury, earned humanly.

He stepped through the sliding glass door to the balcony, the ocean breeze cooling his skin. Aria followed a moment later, wrapping a sheet around herself.

“Sorry,” she murmured, glancing at the mark across his chest. “I guess I was a little too rough last night. My claws… they have a mind of their own.”

Jason pulled her back against him, her back to his chest. “It’s okay. I’m just sorry I was so worried about the baby. I’m learning how to be a father, Aria. I don’t have a manual for this.” He slid his hands down, his palms resting over the warm swell of her stomach. “Morning, little Evangelina.”

Aria froze. She turned in his arms, her eyes wide and wet. “Evangelina? You never even spoke about baby names with me. You said you wanted to wait.”

Jason snuggled her closer, hiding his face in her hair. “It means ‘bringer of good news’. Do you not like it?”

Aria beamed, the pure joy radiating off her like heat. “It’s perfect. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I love you, Aria,” he whispered, the words sounding still like a prayer.

“Jason…” Aria’s voice turned small, the shadow of the past creeping in. “What if they come for her? What if the Director wants his legacy back? What if he sees her as a new ‘Unit’?”

Jason’s grip tightened, his muscles locking into a hard, protective stance that the Facility had built but could no longer control. He kissed her forehead, his gray eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky.

“Let them try. I promise to protect you and Evangelina until my last breath. They will not take you away from me again. Not this time. I’m not a soldier anymore; I’m a father. And that’s a much more dangerous thing to threaten.”

They stood there as the sun climbed higher, a boy made of scars and a girl made of stone, bound by a name, a heartbeat, and a perimeter that would never be breached again.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 62🏰 Heart of the Castle🖤

Epilogue🔥Owning the Shadows🌑

“Aria! Jason! Did we miss it?” Niles shouted, her voice a bright streak through the wind. She skittered across the icy stone, her claws sparking against the rock as she nearly tripped over her own feet in her frantic excitement.

Houston let out a deep, gravelly chuckle that vibrated into the night air. He reached out a massive, scarred hand, catching the little one by the shoulder before she could tumble over the ledge. “Slow down, Niles. Aria said we were invited to the union. We haven’t missed a single beat of the heart.”

Aria stepped out onto the battlement then. She looked like a queen in exile, her heavy, dark wool maternity coat pulled tight against the biting chill, her blonde hair whipped into a halo by the gale. She looked out at the Clan, the fierce, loyal, found family she once thought her and Jason would never have, and felt a thick, painful lump form in her throat.

“I have news, everyone,” she called out, her voice steady despite the hammer of her pulse.

Rivera, who had been mid-sentence giving patrol orders for the northern perimeter, went silent. Her amber eyes, glowing like embers in the dark, locked onto Aria’s face. “Aria! The hatchling… did the healers give you the news you wanted?”

Aria managed a soft, private smile, her hand coming to rest protectively over the firm swell of her stomach. “It wouldn’t have mattered what it was, Rivera. You know that.”

“Jason was worried about a son,” Houston rumbled, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer. “Nightmares of the past, he spoke of. He fears the blood of the Director.”

“Don’t turn a happy occasion into a sad one, Houston,” Blade groaned from the shadows of the tower, though the usual lethal bite in his voice was oddly absent.

Helena blinked, her wings fluttering in genuine surprise. “Wait… is Blade actually refraining from being a grumpy old man for five minutes? Now that is a wedding miracle.”

A hearty, resonant chuckle rippled through the Clan, the sound of stone on stone. Even Blade didn’t snap back; he simply crossed his massive arms with a huff that sent a plume of frost into the air.

“Well? Let’s have it, Aria. The suspense is cracking the masonry.”

Aria beamed, a radiant light that seemed to push back the winter dark. She patted the curve of her belly. “Well… It’s a girl. She’s healthy, and she’s doing fine.”

The Clan let out a collective roar of pride, a primal, ancient sound of joy that echoed off the mountain peaks and likely rattled the windows of the city miles below. A new little hatchling was coming to claim her place among the stones.

Rivera and Helena surged forward, their massive wings unfurling to pull Aria into a tight, warm, leathery embrace.

“That hatchling will be so loved,” Rivera whispered against her hair. “She will be the heart of this castle. Have you told Jason yet?”

Aria shook her head, pulling back just enough to look at them with a pleading intensity. “No. He doesn’t want to know yet. He’s still fighting his own ghosts. He’s coming home from the firm soon, so please remember: not a word to him. It has to be a surprise for the ceremony.”

Two more figures appeared on the battlement behind her. Ethan stood tall, his silhouette sharp against the rising moon. The December wind caught his long coat, making it flutter like a flag of war.

Rivera dipped her head in respect. “Elder Ethan. What a nice surprise. We thought to see you at the human ceremony.”

Ethan didn’t answer at first. He was staring at Aria, his eyes glassy, tears finally spilling over and tracking through the deep, weathered lines of his face. The “Old Grump” was gone, replaced by a man seeing a future he thought had been murdered decades ago.

“Aria…” his voice was a broken rasp.

Aria walked to him, folding herself into his arms, burying her face in his wool coat. “Grandpa. Our baby’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“This baby is going to be protected,” Ethan choked out, his large hands trembling as he held her, as if his grip alone could shield her from the entire world. “She’ll never see those days, Aria. She’ll never know the smell of that Facility. Never.”

Blade watched them from the ledge, his obsidian claws clenching into his palms until the stone groaned. “Those humans… the ones who hunted your blood… they should be dead,” he spat, the memory of the Hunters’ interference in November making his eyes flare red.

Rivera growled, a warning vibration that shook the air. “Blade, we discussed this! Aria didn’t want that path for Jason. She chose peace.”

Blade snorted, but his gaze remained fixed on Aria, and for the first time in centuries, the elder gargoyle’s voice broke. “Aria has been like a hatchling to me. My own blood. If I had been there that day…”

Ethan stepped away from Aria, walking over to place a heavy, grounding hand on the elder gargoyle’s stone shoulder. He looked Blade in the eye, hybrid to gargoyle, soul to soul. “We are better than them, Blade. We have to be. We are better than monsters who only know how to take life. Don’t let the hate take the wheel tonight. Tonight, we celebrate the life that’s coming.”

Blade let out a long, ragged breath that sounded like a furnace cooling, looking down at his own scarred, lethal hands. “To finally care for that human… to see him fight so hard to protect his hatchling from the dark…” He looked at Ethan with a grim, newfound solemnity. “I have never given a human such respect. He is a Hunter no longer. He is a Father.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 61🤰A Daughter’s Stride🌑

Chapter 63🐺 Bringer of Good News🌟

Aria adjusted her coat, it not fitting snugly against her chest like it used to. “I’ve gotten fat,” Aria muttered, her gaze fixed on the passing white pines. “Jason hasn’t said anything; he’s too nice to say anything, but I know he sees it. I feel like a boulder.”

Gwen chuckled, her eyes never leaving the slick, winding road. “That, my dear, is not fat. That is a baby claiming its territory. The baby’s just making sure it’s comfortable for the next few months. Give yourself some grace.”

Aria rubbed the firm, tight swell of her stomach, feeling a sudden, sharp pressure against her lower ribs. “It feels like the baby’s trying to build their own castle in there. I’m pretty sure they’re using my gallbladder as a footstool.”

Gwen parked the van in front of the small, cedar-shingled clinic, the engine ticking as it cooled in the sub-zero air. “Go ahead inside. I have to text Ethan and let him know we made it through the pass. He’s been very adamant about knowing and making sure everything is okay since November.”

Stepping out into the biting air was a chore. In her human form, every pound of the pregnancy felt like a leaden anchor, a stark contrast to the effortless power of her gargoyle self.

The clinic door let out a festive, Christmas-themed chime as she entered, the smell of peppermint oil and antiseptic meeting her.

“Ah, Ms. Valerius.” The nurse smiled. “Right on time for the high-definition scan.”

Aria sank into an oversized chair, her fingers nervously tapping against the phone in her pocket. She wanted to text Jason, but she knew he was deep in the final blueprints for the Theater Project. She didn’t want to break his focus.

“Aria,” the doctor said, appearing in the hallway with a warm smile. “You’re looking radiant. What are we now? Twenty-two weeks?”

“Almost,” Aria said, leaning on Gwen’s arm as she stood. “It feels like twenty-two years.”

The exam room was quiet, the air-conditioning a low, sterile hum. “The father couldn’t make it today?”

“He’s at work,” Gwen answered for her, a conspiratorial, mischievous glint in her eye. “And he’s requested total radio silence on the sex of the baby. He’s dead-set on a surprise.”

As the probe moved across Aria’s skin, the screen flickered to life. The grainy, pulsing dots of the previous months were gone, replaced by the clear silhouette of a tiny life. The baby kicked at the wand, a defiant little jolt that sent a ripple across Aria’s stomach.

“Someone has a very strong opinion about this exam,” the doctor laughed. Her expression softened as she studied the measurements. “Aria… she’s growing perfectly. No signs of stress from the incident in November. She’s a fighter.”

Gwen gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “A girl… a little girl. I knew it. I felt it in my bones.”

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed, pointing to the screen where a tiny, translucent hand was exploring the space near its face. “A perfectly healthy baby girl. Her heartbeat is strong, and she is incredibly active.”

Aria froze, her eyes wide. A single, hot tear traced a path down her cheek. “My baby girl… a daughter.”

Gwen squeezed Aria’s arm. “See, he was worried for nothing, Aria.”

Miles away, the architecture firm was a beehive of activity. The fluorescent lights reflected off the glass partitions as Jason moved with a brisk, efficient pace. He had his wedding suit draped over one arm and a carrier of coffee in the other, his mind ticking through a mental checklist of structural loads and wedding vows.

“Jason! For the love of all that is holy, go home!” Richard’s voice boomed from the lobby.

Jason didn’t stop. “No can do, Richard. The wedding isn’t until later tonight. I’ve got another hour of work in me.”

Richard stood in Jason’s way, physically blocking his path. “I get it. You want to provide. You want to be the rock. But you’re working yourself into the ground, kid. Michael! Stop pushing your duties off on Jason! He’s getting married today!”

Michael swung around a corner, looking defensive. “He asked if he could help, Dad! Chill out!”

The front doors hissed open as Michelle entered, balancing lunch orders. “What are you boys standing around for? Get to work or get out of the way!”

Jason chuckled, the sound actually reaching his ears. He slipped past the bickering family to finish his final run.

By the time he gathered his things, Michelle was waiting at the front desk. “So? Are you and Aria finally finding out the gender today?” she asked softly.

Jason shook his head as he pulled on his coat. “No. I’d rather not know. I want one thing in my life that isn’t a calculated variable.”

Michelle smiled. “I’ve never seen a first-time dad be so ‘in the moment.’ That sonogram picture in your office is going to need a companion soon.”

Jason shifted, a bit of the old “Soldier” modesty resurfacing. “I know it’s weird… the pictures. It’s not overdone, is it?”

Michelle laughed. “The three you have of Aria on your desk? And one of the baby? No, Jason. I think it’s just fine. It shows you’re human. Oh, and Richard said if you aren’t out of here by five, he’s locking the doors. Don’t be late for your own wedding.”

Jason checked his watch. 4:30 PM. The sun was already dipping below the skyline. He had thirty minutes. He stood up, his hand reflexively touching the pocket where the ring was hidden.

He was building a grand theater for a client, but tonight, he was finally finishing the foundation of his own life.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 60👁️ Fear of A Face 🖤

Chapter 62🏰 Heart of the Castle🖤

“Jason, it’s been over a month since the incident,” Aria said, her voice soft but firm as she met his stormy gray eyes in the glass. “The doctor said I’m fine. The baby is fine. You have to let yourself breathe.”

Jason didn’t relax. He moved toward her, leaning down to press a lingering, possessive kiss to the curve of her neck, but his voice was a low, dangerous growl. “I should have killed him. I should have killed them both when I had the chance in that alleyway. Leaving them alive was a tactical error.”

Aria’s brush stilled. She turned in her seat, looking up at the man who was to be her husband in less than twenty-four hours. “So you could prove them right? So you could show the world you’re exactly the heartless weapon they built you to be, Jason?”

Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight enough to snap. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he practiced the rhythmic breathing exercises Aria had taught him.

“That is not the point! You were on the ground, Aria. You could have lost the baby because of their ‘extraction’ attempt. They didn’t care about your life, only the ‘asset’ you’re carrying.”

Aria stood, reaching out to pry his fingers open, forcing his hands to go limp in hers. “And you would have lost us both if you’d gone through with it. If you’d become a murderer on their terms, Jason, they would have won. They would have owned your soul again.”

He looked down at her, his gray eyes scanning her face with a desperate, haunted intensity. “I still failed you,” he whispered, the raw honesty of the boy peeking through the armor. “I didn’t keep the perimeter. I didn’t keep you safe.”

Aria knew this was a battle of logic she couldn’t win, not when his guilt was this deep. Instead of arguing, she guided his large, calloused hands to the firm swell of her stomach. Beneath his palms, the baby gave a vigorous, rhythmic kick.

He smiled, a genuine, rare light breaking through his gloom. “Someone is active today. They’ve got a hell of a stride.”

“The baby loves you, Jason,” Aria murmured.

He let out a jagged sigh, his thumb tracing the fabric over her belly. “I don’t see why they would. Not if they knew the things these hands have done.”

“To them, you aren’t a unit or a weapon,” Aria said, stepping closer until their foreheads touched. “You are just ‘Dad’. That’s the only operating system they’ll ever see.”

The moment broke as Jason checked his watch. “I have to finish the final walk-through for the theater blueprints. I promise I won’t stay at the firm all day.”

“Richard gave you time off for the wedding! Use it!” Aria pouted, though she was smiling.

“I’ll be back early,” he promised, kissing her forehead. He paused at the door, his expression turning deadly serious. “Remind Gwen… I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know the sex of the baby. I’m dead-set on the surprise, remember?”

“I know, Jason. No spoilers. Now go!”

Ten minutes later, the house chimed. Aria pulled her coat tight and headed downstairs.

“Doors open!”

Gwen pushed inside, the winter wind trailing her like a cape. “You know, I could have been anyone, Aria. We talked about security. You didn’t even check the camera.”

Aria just smiled and headed for the kitchen. She pulled out a plate of raw heart and liver, a sight that would have made her vomit months ago, but now made her mouth water.

Gwen watched her eat with focused, predatory intensity. “I can’t believe Jason keeps the fridge stocked with that stuff without complaining,” Gwen chuckled. “I think he and the local butcher are on a first-name basis. Though Houston still tries to bring home a fresh deer every once in a while.”

Aria laughed. “Jason and Houston bickering over the ‘sanitary’ nature of a fresh kill is my favorite morning entertainment. Jason yelling about ‘pathogens’ while Houston snorts about the honor of the ‘mate-hunt’.”

Aria finished, taking her plate to the sink. “Oh, and Jason said, please remember: he doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby. He’s terrified someone will let it slip.”

Gwen frowned. “Why not? It makes planning the nursery so much easier.”

“He said if he finds out it’s a boy, he’ll have nightmares,” Aria said, her voice dropping. “He’s terrified he’ll see the Director’s face in a son. He thinks the evil is genetic. I’m not putting him through that fear until he has to face it.”

Gwen’s face softened, her anger toward the Compound flaring in her eyes. “Those people… the incident in November. They nearly took everything from you two.”

“Jason is still mad I wouldn’t let him kill them,” Aria sighed.

“I understand why he wanted to,” Gwen said, her voice turning to cold steel. “They killed your parents, Aria. They tried to harm your child. Some people don’t deserve the air they breathe.”

“And if he kills them, he goes to jail!” Aria countered. “He becomes the monster they designed! We have to be better than their programming, Gwen.”

Gwen bit her lip, looking away at the frost-covered window. “I know. You’re right. But they know you’re pregnant now. What stops them from trying something even worse once the baby is born?”

Aria felt a rhythmic thump-thump-thump in her gut. “Great. Now you’ve sparked the anxiety, and the baby has the hiccups.”

She grabbed her keys, a determined look on her face. “No more talk about the Facility. Today is about the ultrasound. And tonight… the wedding.”

Aria smiled, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. “My future with Jason starts today. And nothing not the past, not the Director, and not the cold is going to take that away from us.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 59 🛡️Holding the Line🪢

Chapter 61🤰A Daughter’s Stride🌑

Aria stepped into the alley’s shadows; the cold brick walls felt like they were closing in. She felt the familiar, agonizing heat coil at the base of her spine; the change was coming, and she needed the Mustang’s cover.

Suddenly, a hand shot out of the darkness. It didn’t grab her like a lover; it slammed her against the brick with the force of a hydraulic press. Aria’s breath left her in a sharp wheeze. She looked up, expecting to see Jason’s worried eyes, but she found herself staring into a pair of dark, predatory ones. The woman was striking, her features sharp and cold, a silver dagger glinting in her hand like a shard of ice.

“Who are you?” Aria managed to gasp.

The woman’s smile was a razor’s edge. “No one you need to worry about, gargoyle bitch.”

Before the blade could descend, a shadow blurred across the alley. Jason collided with the woman, the sound of the impact echoing off the damp walls. He moved with a lethality Aria hadn’t seen since the day at the club, twisting the woman into a brutal headlock.

“Drop it!” Jason roared, his voice vibrating with a frequency that sounded like a warning siren.

“Do it, Jason!” the woman hissed, her eyes dancing with a sick delight. “If you’re such a man, follow through!”

Jason’s gaze flicked to Aria, desperation cracking his soldier’s mask. “Get to the car! Now!”

“Jason, who is she?” Aria cried, her wings beginning to tear through the back of her coat.

“She’s no one!” he yelled.

Mora chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. She found a gap in Jason’s guard and drove her fist into his gut. Jason doubled over, the air whistling from his lungs.

“No-zereth na morith! Velar na tha!”

“Mora Mendoza,” she spat, straightening her collar. “And this ungrateful child is my son.” She looked down at Jason, her voice dropping into that guttural, ancient dialect. “No… Sha-zereth na thren-vel tha, va-zereth na morith dra ven-thar. Kelthar-ven… othren sha-na, J’son?”

Jason hissed through the pain, the words acting like an electric shock to his system. He fought through the pain, lunging at his mother and sending her sprawling, the dagger skittering across the wet pavement.

“What is this, Mora?”

A new voice, cold and familiar as a tombstone, drifted from the sidewalk. The Director stepped into the light. “Can’t you do anything right? Get up!”

“I am working on it!” she snapped.

Aria, caught in the middle of her transformation, couldn’t fight back as the Director reached out, winding his fingers into her blonde hair and dragging her deeper into the alley. Her wings unfurled with a violent snap, and she let out a guttural growl that made Jason spin around.

“No! Zeth ven-thra tha-sha-zereth na var!” Jason shouted in the Old Tongue.

The Director ignored him, slamming Aria against the wall and pulling a jagged combat knife from his belt. “I am tired of you, little bitch! I spent sixteen years of that boy’s life forging him into a masterwork! A weapon!”

Aria curled her body, hands around her stomach, her purple eyes glowing with a frantic, protective fire. “Stay back! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Aria looked at the Director, then at Jason’s cracking mask. She knew if she used her claws now, if she tore his father apart, Jason would never come back from the edge. She tucked her chin and shielded her stomach as best she could, whispering, “Not for you… for him.”

“You don’t have the guts,” the Director laughed. “You’re soft. And you made my son soft!”

Jason charged, but Mora was a shadow. She swept his legs out from under him and dragged him backward into a headlock, forcing him to watch. “Watch her die, Jason!” she hissed into his ear. “Be a good little weapon and witness the end of your distraction!”

Jason went still for a fraction of a second, a tactical pause. Then, he exploded.

He flipped Mora over his shoulder, pinned her arms in a bone-snapping lock, and used her own tactical zip-ties to bind her. He looked up just in time to see the Director’s blade sweep across Aria’s stomach.

The world went silent. The color drained from Jason’s face as he watched a crimson line bloom across her skin.

“NO! Aria-vel no!”

He reached Aria’s side before she even hit the ground. “No… no, Aria!”

The Director stood over them, a monstrous smile on his face. “Ven, no-hald tha nareth var no-vareth tha et va-khadran tha, J’son.”

Jason stood up. His eyes didn’t look human anymore; they were glossed over with a cold, murderous silver. He lunged, catching the Director by the throat and slamming him into the wall so hard the bricks cracked.

“Va-grath tha vornak na!” Jason vibrated, his hand tightening.

The Director choked, his face turning a mottled purple. “Va-thren na tha, morak? Sha-grath na vornak tha ulth, sha-drakh na et var khar tha, ven veth tha.”

Aria felt the baby kick, a frantic, fluttering heartbeat against her own. I’m sorry, she thought, curling tighter. But if he kills him, he won’t be the father you need. I have to hold the line.

Aria coughed, a spray of blood hitting the pavement. “Jason… let… him… go!”

“Aria!” Jason turned his head, his grip not loosening an inch.

“Let him go!” she winced, clutching her stomach.

“NO! Not this time! He dies now!” He squeezed harder, watching the light in his father’s eyes begin to flicker out.

“Jason…” Aria’s voice was a fragile thread. “You kill him… You lose us. Both of us. Right now!”

Jason let out a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. He hissed at the sky, his muscles trembling with the need to finish it. “Damn it! I can’t, Aria! I can’t let him go!”

But his fingers uncurled. He let the Director collapse into the trash and filth of the alley. He didn’t look back at his parents. He scooped Aria into his arms and began to run. He didn’t look for the car. He didn’t look for help. He just ran.

The hospital lights were a blinding, clinical white that mocked the darkness in Jason’s soul. He had run for thirty minutes, his lungs burning and his boots heavy with Aria’s blood. He sat in the lobby, his clothes ruined, his eyes bloodshot and raw.

When the nurse finally appeared, he stood up, ignoring the way his old injuries screamed in protest. “Mr. Mendoza? The doctor will see you now.”

Jason followed her into the room. Aria looked small, lost in a sea of white sheets and tangled wires. The machines beeped a rhythmic, terrifying count of her life.

The doctor looked up from the chart. “Mr. Mendoza… she’s finally sleeping. I have to say, this is my first…”

“Gargoyle,” Jason interrupted, his voice hollow. “She’s a gargoyle-hybrid, Doctor.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “She’s on fluids. We’ve stabilized the wound, but she’ll need to stay for a few weeks. It was close, Mr. Mendoza. She almost lost the baby.”

Jason’s hands clenched the metal railing of the bed so hard the steel groaned.

“What happened to her?” the doctor asked softly.

“Something that shouldn’t have happened.” Jason gritted his teeth, the “Weapon” and the “Mate” warring in his chest. “And it will never happen again.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, son… don’t go looking for trouble. Stay here.”

“No,” Jason hissed, his eyes fixed on Aria’s pale face. “They need to pay. My parents… they did this.”

Aria let out a low groan in her sleep, and Jason’s anger instantly dissolved into a crushing, heavy guilt.

The doctor handed him a pile of blankets and a pillow. “You aren’t going anywhere tonight. Stay with her.”

Jason sank into the chair beside the bed, his hand hovering over hers, afraid to touch her and break what was left. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the quiet of the room. “I wasn’t strong enough to stop them.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 58 🎨Canvas of Soft Shadows🖤

Chapter 60👁️ Fear of A Face 🖤

Aria stood back, a smudge of “neutral gray” paint on her cheek, putting the final touches on the dresser. They still didn’t know the gender; Jason was adamant about the surprise, so for now, the room was a canvas of soft shadows and waiting possibilities.

Across the room, Jason was a study in absolute focus. He was on his knees, the rhythmic sound of a sanding block the only sound over the wind. He had spent weeks on the crib, treating the wood like he treated his blueprints. The sides were adorned with smooth black obsidian fixtures, miniature gargoyles, and silent wolves guarding the rails.

Aria leaned against the wall, her hand resting on the heavy swell of her stomach. She watched the way Jason’s shoulders moved, the “weapon” long since replaced by a man building a sanctuary.

When he finally stood, dusting the fine pale sawdust from his jeans, he looked exhausted but satisfied. “Well?” he asked, his gray eyes searching hers. “What do you think? Is it… structurally sound enough?”

Aria walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest. “It’s perfect, Jason. But you know the baby is probably going to be sleeping with us for the first few months, right?”

Jason looked at the small, sturdy crib, then back at her, a look of genuine tactical confusion on his face. “I suppose… they will?”

“I’m not letting this little one out of my sight for a long time,” Aria murmured.

Jason let out a low, tired chuckle, resting his chin on the top of his head. “So, I’m never going to get a full night’s sleep again, am I?”

Aria playfully smacked his arm. “Probably not. But you’re a soldier, Mendoza. You’re used to sleep deprivation.”

“Not this kind,” he whispered, pulling her into his warmth.

He stayed there for a moment before his brow furrowed. “We don’t have anything for the crib yet. No… blankets. No toys.”

He pulled back, heading across the hall to their bedroom. He returned a moment later carrying a battered black duffel bag. He reached inside and pulled out the stuffed gargoyle Aria had won for him at the fair years ago, the one he’d clutched like a lifeline during his darkest days. He tucked it under one arm and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out the Fenrir plush.

Aria’s breath caught as she watched him place the two toys in opposite corners of the crib, arranging them with military precision.

“Jason…” she whispered. “You kept it? The one from the fair?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers lingering on the felt wings of the gargoyle. “Of course, I kept it. Why wouldn’t I?”

Aria stepped forward, taking his hand. “I thought… with the memory wipe and the fire… I thought you would have destroyed everything from that time.”

He turned to her, his grip firm and warm as he squeezed her hand. “My first real gift from the woman I love? Never, Aria. That was the only thing I didn’t need a mission file to remember.”

Later that evening, the dim light of the kitchen flickered as Jason tossed a stack of cream-colored envelopes onto the heavy table. Aria sat down, picking up a pen and beginning to scratch away at the guest list for the formal ceremony.

Jason watched the fluid movement of her hand, a small smile playing on his lips. “You have beautiful handwriting, Aria. It looks like… like it belongs in an old book.”

“And yours looks like a doctor’s prescription,” she teased, looking at his cramped, jagged script. She paused, seeing the name on his top envelope. “You’re really sending one to Michael?”

Jason nodded, though he looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes. Why not? I mean… I guess he’s more your friend than mine.”

Aria laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. “Well, you did push him, Jason.”

He rolled his eyes, sealing an envelope with a sharp, efficient snap. “Reflex. The guy was in my perimeter. Besides, I didn’t know then that he’d be the one helping me.”

“I swore you were only being nice to him in the end to get into my”

“Pants?” Jason smirked, his gray eyes flashing with mischief.

“Not funny, Malcolm!” Aria flared, her face turning a vivid red.

Jason chuckled, reaching across the table to interlace his fingers with hers. “Okay, maybe I was a tiny bit motivated by that. Can you blame me? Look at you.” His expression softened, the teasing replaced by a heavy, quiet yearning. “Do you remember the first kiss? The notes I slid you in detention?”

Aria flushed even deeper. “I do. It’s hard to believe that was so long ago. We were different people.”

Jason leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw as he pulled her into a slow, passionate kiss that tasted of the future they were finally allowed to have. Aria groaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Mm… I also remember the first day of school,” she murmured as they parted. “Some guy showing me his chest tattoo in the hallway to prove a point.”

Jason broke into a boyish grin through his stubble. “Oh, well… I didn’t expect a girl like you to actually know what my tattoos meant.” He brushed a stray blonde hair from her eyes. “That was the start of the best day of my life, Aria. The day the machine started to break.”

The night air was biting as Jason pulled the Mustang up to the curb of a high-end bistro downtown. Aria was still gripped in a fit of protest. “Jason, this is too expensive! We could have just grabbed burgers!”

The maître d’ looked up as they entered, his gaze lingering on Jason’s sharp jacket and Aria’s maternity dress. “Reservations?”

“Mendoza. For two,” Jason said, his voice level and commanding.

The man led them to a secluded booth in the back corner, the lighting dim and amber. Aria sat down, still eyeing the gold-leafed menu with suspicion. “Jason… fifteen dollars for a burger? No.”

He reached across and gently took the menu from her hands. “Stop looking at the numbers and just tell me what you want. Let me spoil you for once.”

Aria finally sighed. “Fine. Steak and salad.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he smirked.

As they waited, Aria rested her hands on her stomach, her expression softening. “At least the baby isn’t craving raw hearts and liver tonight. I can actually smell the garlic without wanting to die.”

Jason nodded. “Good. Because I checked, ‘Organ Meat’ isn’t on the appetizers list. I’ll have to hit the butcher on the way home; we’re out of the ‘special’ stock.”

Dinner arrived: a perfectly seared steak for Aria and a seafood platter for Jason. For a few minutes, the world was normal. They were just a young couple out on the town, laughing about Michael and debating names.

“How’s the food? Keeping it down, okay?” Jason asked, his hand grazing hers over the white linen.

“Yes,” Aria said, smiling, her eyes bright. “Thank God. The baby is letting me be human for an hour.”

Jason checked his watch. The digital numbers glowed: 4:45 PM. The sun would be long gone soon. “Aria, we should head out soon. It’s getting close to five.”

Aria’s smile faltered as she checked the time. She didn’t want to go through the “change” in a restaurant full of people. “Yes. Let’s get going before… well, before it happens.”

Jason stood, tossing a few bills onto the table and leading her toward the exit. He smiled at her as they stepped into the cold night air, his hand protectively on the small of her back.

He was so focused on her that he never noticed the two figures in the darkened corner of the bistro, two people whose eyes followed them with a cold, calculated disgust. As the door clicked shut behind the Mendozas, the two strangers rose from their seats and slipped into the shadows after them.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 57 🪢The Crimson Connection❤️

Chapter 59 🛡️Holding the Line🪢

“I’m here, if anyone actually cares!” he barked, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Aria intercepted him at the kitchen table, her wings giving a curious flutter. “We care, Grandpa. We didn’t hear the van. What is that?”

Ethan set the box down next to the remnants of the birthday cake. He looked at Aria with a solemnity that made the air in the room turn cold. “It’s about time you had this for real. No more secrets.”

Aria opened the lid. Nestled in black silk was the silver-hilted dagger she had seen once before, on the birthday that had changed everything. “My sixteen-year-old gift,” she whispered.

“You weren’t ready then,” Ethan said. He leaned over the table, his voice dropping into a low, melodic rasp. “Thal el Hawthorn Vaesh’kar! ”!

The dagger didn’t just move; it ignited. A violet glow erupted from the runes etched into the steel, the blade lifting inches off the silk to hover in mid-air. A hum of static electricity filled the kitchen, raising the hair on Aria’s head as a shimmering, translucent barrier bloomed around her like a halo.

“Ethan, what is this?” she gasped, reaching out.

Jason, drawn by the electric hum, appeared in the doorway. He stopped dead, his tactical brain instantly measuring the energy output of the blade. “The dagger?”

“It’s time she receives it properly.” Ethan nodded.

Aria’s obsidian claws brushed the barrier, and a sharp spark bit into her claws. “Ouch! It’s alive.”

“Sylth,” Ethan whispered. The violet light died, and the dagger fell back to the table with a dull, heavy clack. “It’s a gift passed from mother to daughter. A Valerivani heirloom. Your great-grandparents saved a queen once. Saved their world, and she gave our family the heirloom to protect our bloodline.”

Aria blinked, looking at the two men. “Are you telling me unicorns and dragons are real, too?”

Ethan chuckled, taking a massive bite of cake from his plate. “Yes. They just don’t live on our street.”

The moonlight painted the garden in purples and reds. Jason took Aria’s hand, his fingers trembling slightly. “Can I borrow her for a second, Ethan?”

“Don’t mind the old guy,” Ethan grumbled through a mouthful of frosting.

Jason led her out among the frost-bitten roses, pulling her into his space. The yearning in his gaze was so thick it felt like a physical weight. He kissed the side of her neck, breathing in the vanilla and stone dust. “How’s the birthday been so far?”

“Wonderful,” she whispered, leaning back into him. “I love it, Jason. Thank you.”

He pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. Then, with a slow, deliberate grace, he dropped to one knee. He pulled a ring from his pocket, not tactical, not functional, but beautiful. “Aria… will you make me the happiest man in this world? Will you marry me?”

Aria froze. The air left her lungs. “Oh, Jason, no.”

Jason’s face went pale. He blinked, his hand shaking. “I don’t… Aria, I don’t understand. I thought,”

“She is not denying you, human,” a voice rumbled from above.

Jason jumped, nearly toppling over as Rivera glided down from the castle wall, her massive wings silhouetted against the moon. “I wish you’d all stop doing that!” Jason hissed, clutching his knee.

“You are already bonded as mates,” Rivera said, her amber eyes glowing. “A human ritual is a whisper against the roar of the stone. You belong to each other already.”

Aria reached down, pulling Jason up and into her arms. Her wings swept forward, wrapping them both in a leather cocoon. “Jason, you’ve been mine since the day I pulled you out of that hell. I would choose you over and over again. Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Jason let out a jagged breath, a single tear escaping his gray eyes. “You already chose me?”

“Always,” she breathed.

The back door creaked. Ethan stood there, leaning against the frame. “What’s the loud noise? Someone dying out here?”

Aria beamed, holding up her hand. “Jason asked me to marry him. No more Aria Marie Valerius.”

The silence that followed was a vacuum. Jason went rigid. He sat Aria back down on the grass, his expression shifting from joy to a cold, clinical horror.

“…Valerius?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Aria said, her brow furrowing. “I thought you knew?”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Why does the name matter, boy?”

Jason looked at the ground, his voice a ghost of itself. “Because my parents… the Director and the Matriarch… they killed the Valerius family. That was the mission that earned the director his seat. I saw the logs. I saw the names.”

Ethan’s roar was animal. He lunged forward, his claws extending, his eyes glowing a predatory red. “You want to repeat that, boy!”

Aria didn’t think. She threw herself in front of Jason, catching her grandfather in a desperate bear hug. “You will not touch him!”

“Aria, let me go!” Ethan hissed, his tail lashing. “His blood killed my daughter! Your mother!”

“Elder Ethan, stop!” Rivera commanded, her voice vibrating with authority. “You will cause discomfort to the hatchling! Look at her!”

Jason stood behind Aria, his head bowed. “Let him go, Aria. He deserves justice for what they did. I’m one of them. I’m a monster.”

Aria spun around, grabbing Jason by the collar of his jacket, her eyes flashing a brilliant, angry purple. “No! You are NOT them! You are Jason Mendoza! Not the Compound, not the weapon! You are the man I love, and I won’t let you drown in their sins!”

The tension didn’t vanish, but it settled into a cold truce. Later that night, Jason sat on the battlement, his legs dangling over the edge. Houston padded up beside him.

“Jason. We should go hunt.”

Jason looked up, weary. “Hunting? You mean patrol?”

“No,” Houston rumbled. “Mate, Aria hungers for meat. The hatchling needs strength. We go.”

They descended into the castle’s hidden basement, a room that had become Jason’s sanctuary. It was an armory of high-tech gear and ancient steel. Jason pulled a black harness from the table. “Can you attach this to my back, Houston?”

Houston grabbed the device, his claw hovering over a switch. “No! Don’t touch that!” Jason shouted. “That deploys the wings.”

Houston grumbled, buckling the harness. “A human needing metal wings. Why do you not let your mate carry you?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” Jason muttered. “I feel like Lois Lane.”

“Who is this Lois?”

“Ask Niles,” Jason sighed. “Let’s just go. She needs the meat, right?”

The winter wind whipped against Jason’s face as he engaged the mechanical wings, the hum of the motors lost in the roar of the gale. Suddenly, the comm-link in Jason’s ear let out a piercing electronic buzz.

“You better not be out there killing Bambi to feed this baby!” Aria’s voice hissed through the speaker.

Jason looked at Houston, who was nodding emphatically. “It’s what your gargoyle side craves, Aria!”

“Jason, just go to the butcher.” Rivera’s voice broke in. “If she doesn’t want the blood on her hands, you must respect that.”

Houston let out a huff of pure gargoyle disgust. “Store-bought is dead meat. Hatchling needs life!”

Jason shrugged, the motors in his wings whining. “Butcher it is, big guy. I’m not winning this fight.”

The neon lights of the 24-hour grocery store were a stark contrast to the moonlit woods. “Wait out here,” Jason commanded, removing his tactical mask. “I can’t explain you to a checkout girl.”

Houston ignored him, shoving the glass doors open and marching inside.

The butcher shop was a sanctuary of fluorescent hums until Houston’s shadow eclipsed the entire deli counter. Jason stepped up, trying to maintain his composure while wearing a tactical vest and a katana.

“Sir? Do you have the… well, the good stuff in the back?”

The butcher stopped mid-wipe. He looked at Jason’s gear, then up at Houston’s 7-foot, stony frame. “Are you trying to be funny with these Halloween costumes?”

Houston leaned over the glass, a low rumble vibrating the meat trays. “We are after the hearts and the livers, human! This muscle-meat is weak!”

The butcher nearly fell into his own poultry section.

“Be nice, Houston!” Jason hissed. He turned back to the man with a desperate look. “We just… we need the organs. Hearts, livers, kidneys. Everything you usually toss.”

The man gulped. “Look, kid, I don’t judge. But you’re not running some kind of… You know… cult, are you?”

Jason closed his eyes, his forehead practically hitting the counter. Houston beat him to the punch. “Cult? We are feeding his mate! Gargoyles have no time for cults!”

Jason wanted to melt into the floor tiles. “You are never coming with me again, Houston,” he grumbled.

Finally, the butcher returned, sliding a massive, blood-stained brown paper bag onto the counter. “Here you go, Mr. Mendoza. Enjoy the rest of your Halloween. Tell the guys at the party I did a solid for you.”

“Happy Halloween,” Jason muttered, grabbing the bag and practically sprinting for the door.

The two disappeared into the night, leaving the grocery store in a state of quiet shock. Back in the sky, Jason gripped the bag tightly against his chest. He looked at Houston, who was already eyeing the bag with disgust.

“Let’s go home,” Jason whispered. “We have a family to feed.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 56 ✨Prehistoric Cravings🕯️

Chapter 58 🎨Canvas of Soft Shadows🖤

Aria groaned, reaching out to snatch a spare pillow and tossing it blindly at his head.

“Mm… what?” Jason stirred, his gray eyes blinking open, clouded with sleep. He didn’t pull away; instead, he rolled over and dragged Aria against his chest, his lips finding the sensitive curve of her neck. “Did you sleep okay?”

Aria giggled, the sound muffled by his shoulder. “I would have, if someone wasn’t auditioning for a heavy machinery commercial.”

Jason let out a long, exhausted yawn. “Sorry, Aria. I guess the late shifts at the firm are finally catching up to me. You want me to move to the couch tonight?”

She snuggled closer to him, resting her cold hands against his bare chest. “No. Because then who would keep me warm? The heater is just as loud as you are and way less cute.”

He chuckled, the vibration thrumming through her ribs. He gave her a final, lingering kiss on the forehead. “I’ll go get breakfast ready, birthday girl.”

Aria smiled, sinking back into the pillows as the covers settled around her waist. “Sounds good. Eggs, please. And lots of them.”

But as Aria stood up, the world shifted. A sudden, sharp sensation washed over Aria, a sensory spike so violent it made her stomach do a slow, nauseating flip. But it wasn’t just nausea. It was an alarm. Her sense of smell, usually dull, suddenly became a predatory instrument. She caught a scent on the wind that made her mouth water with an intensity that was almost frightening.

Aria was halfway out the bedroom window, her torso leaning into the frigid October air, her nostrils flaring, when Jason stepped out of the bathroom with a towel knotted around his waist.

“Aria! What are you doing?” Jason lunged forward, his hands finding her waist and hauling her back inside with effortless strength. “Forgetting something? Like gravity?”

She blinked, coming out of the trance as he shut the window with a definitive thud. “Sorry… something just smelled… so good out there.”

Jason squinted through the glass. Their neighbor had a small hobby farm, mostly cows, and the usual livestock huddled near the barn. “You mean the cows?”

Aria made a face of pure disgust. “No! It can’t be that. I’m not some… monster.”

Jason shrugged, the calculated part of him already moving on to the next task. “Well, please don’t try to jump out the window again. I’d like to keep my girlfriend in one piece for her birthday.”

Aria dressed quickly, trying to ignore the way her hybrid nature was screaming for something she couldn’t name. Jason, now in jeans and a dark shirt, leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You want me to go see if the neighbor will trade us a cow for some architecture work?” he joked.

Aria glared at him, pointing a finger. “It is not the cows! I am not eating a poor, defenseless Betsy!”

Downstairs, the kitchen was filled with the sizzle of butter and the aroma of coffee, but for Aria, it felt like static. She sat at the heavy stone wooden table, her stomach performing frantic gymnastics.

“Is it almost done, Jason? I’m starving. I feel like I could eat the entire fridge and still have room for dessert.”

Jason chuckled, sliding a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs and toast across the wood toward her. He sat down with his own portion, watching her. Aria brought a forkful to her mouth, chewed once, and then froze.

“Ew, no. This is gross,” she whispered, her face pale. “What did you do to this?”

Jason frowned, taking a bite of his own. “It’s fine. Standard seasoning. Let me see.” He pulled her plate over, ate a forkful, and shook his head. “It’s perfect, Aria. Maybe your taste buds are glitching.”

Aria didn’t answer. She stood up, her movements jerky and instinctual, and walked toward the fridge. Jason went quiet, his tactical brain recording the way her body moved with a predatory agitation. She reached into the depths of the freezer and pulled out a small, butcher-paper-wrapped package she’d never seen before.

She set it on the counter, her breath hitching. “Jason… what in God’s name is this?”

Jason stood up, moving to her side. He recognized the label. “Oh, that… Gwen brought it over yesterday while you were at work. Said you might find yourself… needing it.”

Aria leaned in, the scent hitting her; this was the smell. It wasn’t the smell of food; it was the smell of life. Of power. “Yes,” she breathed. “This is it.”

“I don’t think you want to know what’s in there, Aria,” Jason said, his voice dropping to a cautious murmur.

“I don’t care. The baby wants it.”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, his expression a mix of worry and acceptance. “It’s deer hearts, Aria. Fresh from the butcher.”

Aria froze. The human part of her recoiled, her stomach lurching. She shoved the package across the counter as if it were a bomb. “No! I won’t eat that. I’m not a wolf.” She sank back into her chair, a scowl deepening on her face. She looked up at him, glaring. “You know… this is entirely your fault.”

Jason blinked, his hands raised in a defensive gesture. “My fault? How?”

“You’re the one who got me pregnant!” she snapped, though her voice wavered. “And now this baby is craving… this… gross stuff! You did this to me!”

Jason didn’t argue. He moved into her space, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’ll take the blame. Full responsibility. Maybe… maybe I can cook it? Make it more ‘human’?”

Aria nodded against his shirt. She watched as he began to thaw the meat, his movements precise and careful. But as the heat hit the pan, the smell changed. It became less enticing, less appealing.

The front door chime broke the tension. “It’s open!” Aria called out.

Gwen pushed the door open, her sharp nose wrinkling immediately. She marched into the kitchen, eyeing the pan where Jason was trying to sear the hearts. “Oh, Jason… no. Do not cook that.”

Jason paused, spatula in hand. “Why not?”

“Aria won’t want it that way,” Gwen said, walking over to the stove.

“I’m not letting Aria get food poisoning because our baby has prehistoric cravings,” Jason countered, his jaw set.

Gwen smiled, a look of ancient wisdom in her eyes. “She isn’t fully human, Jason. And neither is the life inside her. They don’t have human vulnerabilities to wild game. Give her the heart.”

Aria cringed as Gwen pulled a fresh, raw heart from the package and slid it onto a clean plate, pushing it toward her. “Go ahead. Eat.”

“Please, no…” Aria whispered. “Don’t make me do this.”

Gwen sat down across from her, her voice firm but kind. “Your mother was the same way with you, Aria. The first time is the hardest. Just close your eyes… and eat.”

Aria looked at Jason. He looked back at her with a gaze that was steady and unblinking. He didn’t look disgusted; he looked like a sentry standing guard over her transition.

Aria closed her eyes. She grabbed the meat with her hands, the iron-rich scent overwhelming her senses, and took a bite.

The world exploded. The meat was sweet and rich and gave her a rush of energy that made the “fever” in her blood vanish instantly. She didn’t stop. She continued to eat, the primal hunger finally satisfied.

When she finally finished, she realized the room was dead silent. Jason was staring at her. It was a look she couldn’t quite decode: was it horror, awe, or a deep, quiet realization that their lives had permanently exited the “normal” lane?

Aria grabbed a napkin, her face burning. “Sorry… am I making a mess?”

Gwen smiled. “No, honey. I just don’t think he’s ever seen you eat anything that wasn’t well-done before.”

Aria sighed, pushing the empty plate away. She looked at Jason, her voice small. “Just something else you didn’t sign up for, Malcolm. Are you sure you’re okay with a girl who eats like this?”

Jason didn’t hesitate. He came to her side, leaning down to use his thumb to wipe a stray drop of crimson from the corner of her mouth. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look sick. He just looked at her.

“No,” he whispered, his gray eyes soft. “I didn’t sign up for it. But I love you. And if that baby wants deer hearts, I’ll go out and find every deer in the state. That’s all that matters.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 55 ⏳The Weight & Present❤️

Chapter 57 🪢The Crimson Connection❤️

“What did you tell him?” Gwen asked, her voice hushed as she navigated toward the home goods section.

“Just that it wasn’t food poisoning,” Aria said softly.

Gwen nodded, stopping in front of a shelf of decorative storage. She picked up a small, sturdy box with a lid, decorated with tiny, stylized wolves. “This will do, don’t you think? It’s got little wolves on it. Fitting for a Fenrir.”

Aria stared at the box, her stomach doing a slow, nervous roll. “What if we’re not ready for this, Gwen?”

Gwen stopped. She turned, pulling Aria into a firm, warm embrace right there in the middle of the aisle. “You two are more than ready for a family. It’s just scary because it’s real now. You saw the heartbeat, Aria. That changes everything.”

Aria leaned into her, nodding. When they moved into the baby aisle, the sheer “smallness” of everything hit her. She picked up a pair of tiny knit booties, then stopped dead in front of a romper. It was simple white cotton with bold black letters: Daddy found his heart, and now he has to share it.

Aria clutched the fabric to her chest, her eyes welling up. “We have to get this one, Gwen.”

“It’s perfect for him,” Gwen whispered. She looked at the cart, then back at Aria. “I wonder what he’ll love more, the Ninja 350 you and Ethan got him, or this?”

“The bike will be nothing compared to this,” Aria murmured, a small smile finally breaking through. “This is everything.”

“One more thing,” Gwen said, heading toward the pharmacy section. “We need a test for the box.”

Aria frowned, confused. “I don’t need a test. The doctor literally showed me the baby on a screen.”

Gwen laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I know, but for the box, Aria! The visual. It’s for the ‘reveal.’ We’ll get a cheap one. I’m not spending forty dollars on a plastic stick when we already have the sonogram.”

Aria groaned, taking the cart as they moved toward the family planning aisle. She felt like every box on the shelf was judging her, but Gwen just hummed a tune, tossing a box into the cart.

The wind danced across the stone battlements, catching the wide, leathery spans of wings as the Clan stirred. Houston stepped down from his perch, his nostrils flaring as he surveyed the empty stone. “Where are Aria and Jason? Usually, one of them is here to greet the rising moon.”

Blade let out a sharp snort. “Told you this would happen. The human is in trouble. He’s turned her soft.”

Rivera hushed him with a sharp look. “I will go inside, Houston. You and Blade lead the patrol. I am sure Aria and her mate are more than fine.”

As the Clan vanished into the night, Rivera padded into the castle. She liked the fixtures of the place; it wasn’t the temples of Egypt, but it was home. She found Gwen and Ethan in the kitchen, fussing over a cake.

“Elder Gwen, Elder Ethan,” Rivera greeted.

“Rivera, please.” Gwen smiled. “Just Gwen and Ethan.”

Aria walked in, carefully placing the lid on a small box decorated with wolves. Rivera tilted her head. “Little wolves. What is this?”

“Aria’s pregnant,” Ethan grumbled, though his eyes remained fixed on the table.

Rivera’s wings snapped shut in a gesture of pure joy. “A hatchling! Such great news, Aria. You will make a fine mother.”

Aria’s stomach did a familiar flip. “I just threw up again,” she moaned. “And I haven’t even eaten.”

“Our species carries eggs for a full six months,” Rivera noted. “The sickness is a sign of the shell hardening.”

Aria’s eyes went wide. “Me? Lay an egg? Like a chicken? Absolutely not. No way.”

Gwen laughed, shaking her head. “Aria, no. Rivera, she’s not a full gargoyle. It will be a human birth. Nine months.”

Ethan let out a long, weary sigh. “Still too young. I am not still over what happened to them…”

“Drop it, Ethan!” Gwen snapped. “Don’t you dare spoil this.”

“I’m just saying,” Ethan muttered, his voice dropping into a dark, hollow place. “Aria’s parents… they died when she was nine months old. Murdered by Hunters. Ran off the road. My son-in-law was gutted… my Melody… her throat was slit.” He looked at the floor, the memory a physical weight. “Aria was found in the woods crying, scared, hungry!”

Rivera’s expression darkened. “I see why you would hate Jason. He is one of them.”

“No,” Ethan said firmly. “He would have been a toddler himself when it happened. I don’t hate him. He isn’t them. He never truly was.”

Aria looked at her grandfather, her voice trembling. “You don’t hate me for this, do you?”

“Hate you?” Ethan looked up, and for a moment, the grumpiness vanished, replaced by a fierce, raw love. “Never, sweetheart. And I don’t hate the boy, either.”

The front door creaked open. Jason stepped into the darkened foyer, his hand instinctively twitching toward the dagger inside his jacket. The silence felt wrong. Tactical alarm bells rang in his head. “This isn’t settling well,” he muttered.

Suddenly, warm arms wrapped around his waist. “Aria…”

“Outside. On the battlement,” she whispered, kissing the back of his neck.

“If someone jumps out and shouts ‘surprise,’ I’m moving out,” Jason warned, but he followed her up the stairs.

As they stepped into the night air, Niles hovered, ready to scream, but Aria waved her back. Jason walked into the center of the Clan, his eyes landing on Gwen and the glowing candles. “Wow. What a surprise, guys. Thanks.”

“Were you really surprised?” Niles asked, her wings drooping.

Jason chuckled, patting her head. “Yes, Niles. Really.”

He leaned down and blew out the nineteen candles in one breath. “Next year, just the numbers. I don’t want to be huffing and puffing over twenty.”

The clan moved forward with their gifts. Scarabs from Rivera and Helena. A smudged manga from Niles. Blade stepped forward last, placing an ancient Ankh into Jason’s hands. “Life is a heavy gift, boy. Don’t waste the one I’m letting you keep.”

Jason looked at the symbol, then at the scarred gargoyle. “This is off your own armor, Blade.”

“I don’t give gifts lightly,” Blade grunted.

Jason didn’t ask permission; he pulled the elder gargoyle into a firm hug. Blade snorted, stiffening. “Stop hugging me, human, or I will take it back!”

Aria stood by a stone perch, the wolf-patterned box tucked behind her. Jason walked over, his heart light, and kissed her. “I’m not the gift, weirdo,” she teased, sliding the box into his hands. “This is it.”

Jason pulled the lid off. He saw the plastic stick with the tiny blue plus sign. The booties. The romper: Daddy found his heart, and now he shares it.

The world didn’t just stop; it imploded. Jason stared at the box, his vision blurring. Without a word, he set the box on the perch, stepped back, and walked away into the shadows of the near tower.

Aria watched him go, her heart shattering. He doesn’t want it. He’s leaving us.

Jason sank to the floor against the cold stone wall, his head in his hands as the ghosts of the Compound clawed at his mind.

“Weapons don’t cry, Jason! Get up!” The Director’s voice echoed in his ears.

“It’s Matriarch, not mother! You’re a disgrace!”

Jason choked back a sob, whispering a broken “I hate you!” to the parents who had hollowed him out.

“Jason…” Houston’s heavy footsteps approached. “You left Aria alone. A mate should be happy.”

Jason wiped his eyes, his jaw tight. “It’s just a lot, Houston.”

“Tears of pain?” Houston asked, sitting beside him.

“I didn’t have a father, Houston. Or a mother. What if I’m terrible? What if I’m… like him?”

Houston smiled, a clawed hand coming to rest on Jason’s shoulder. “You are not that man. If you were, you wouldn’t be worried. These hands were made to kill, yes… but you use them to nurture. You hug even a grumpy old stone like Blade.”

Jason let out a watery chuckle. “I guess.”

“When you see that hatchling,” Houston rumbled, “you will forget the fear. Now go. Your mate is crying herself to sleep.”

Jason bolted upright. “She’s crying?”

“She thinks you do not want the child. Go.”

Jason ran. He burst through the door and into the hallway, stopping outside their bedroom. Through the wood, he heard the small, jagged sobs of the girl he loved more than life itself. He leaned his forehead against the door, the weight of his mistake crushing him.

He pushed the door open. The room was bathed in shadows, the only light coming from the moon reflecting off the winter snow outside. Aria was a small, broken silhouette on the edge of the bed, her wings drooping like lead. She was staring at the sonogram, her thumb tracing the grainy image.

She didn’t look up. Her voice was a jagged whisper. “…This isn’t your life, Jason. This isn’t what you signed up for. If you want to leave… go.”

The words hit him like a weight he wasn’t ready for. He crossed the room in two strides and sank to his knees on the floor in front of her.

“Aria… look at me.”

She didn’t move. Jason reached up, his fingers gently tilting her chin until she was forced to see the tears in his own eyes, eyes that weren’t gray and cold anymore but wide with a terrifying, raw honesty.

“That’s the baby, isn’t it?” he whispered, nodding toward the image.

Aria bit her lip, her chest heaving. “Yes. Our baby. I thought… I thought you wanted this. I thought we were building something.”

“We are,” Jason said, his voice cracking. He stood up, sliding onto the mattress beside her and pulling her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her with a desperate strength. “I’m sorry, Aria. When I saw that box… when I realized how real it all was… I got scared. I panicked.”

Aria leaned into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder. “What do you want me to do, Jason? I can’t do this alone.”

“Just listen. Please.” He began to rock her in a slow, rhythmic motion. “I’m scared of being him, Aria. I’m scared that if I hold a baby, I’ll only know how to teach it to be a weapon. I’m scared that the Director is still inside me, just waiting for me to fail.”

Aria pulled back, her hands cupping his face. Her touch was as soft as the winter air. “Jason, look at me. You will never be him. That man was hollow. You are kind. You are loving. You are nurturing.”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing against his. “A weapon doesn’t cry because it hurts someone’s feelings. A weapon doesn’t design a store to keep his girlfriend safe. You are a man, Jason. Our baby’s father.”

Jason closed his eyes, finally allowing the last of the “Hunter” to dissolve into the silence of the room. He rubbed the moisture from beneath her eyes, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the shadows.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for never giving up on me… even when I want to give up on myself.”

Aria smiled back, the light of the sonogram caught between them on the bed. “I’m not going anywhere, Malcolm.”

Jason chuckled, the sound light and real. He pulled the heavy blankets around them both, shielding them from the ghosts of the past. As the snow continued to fall outside their castle, Jason held his heart in his arms and felt it beat for the very first time.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 54 📐Miscalculated Blueprints🖤

Chapter 56 ✨Prehistoric Cravings🕯️

Gwen pulled into the clinic lot, the tires crunching over the fresh winter slush. “Aria? Are you feeling a little better?”

Aria nodded, her fingers trembling as she pulled her blonde hair back into a tight, practical ponytail. “Yes. I think the urge to throw up is… receding. Finally.”

She stepped out of the car, her legs feeling like lead. She looked worn out, the vibrant energy of the morning’s intimacy replaced by a hollow, gray exhaustion. The bell above the office door chimed, a cheerful sound that felt at odds with the medicinal scent of the lobby.

“I need to be seen, please,” Aria told the nurse at the counter, her voice barely a whisper.

“Sure, hon. Just need your name.”

Aria swallowed hard, fighting down a fresh wave of nausea. “Aria Valerius.”

The nurse’s fingers clattered over the keys. “Go ahead and sit. The doctor will call you back in a couple of minutes.”

Aria sank into the chair beside Gwen, resting her head on Gwen’s shoulder. The warmth of her sweater was the only thing keeping her upright. “I’m so tired,” she murmured, closing her eyes for what felt like a second.

“Aria? The doctor is ready.”

The nurse led her to a small side room. “Sit there for now. The doctor might have you move later.” As the nurse began typing into the chart, she asked the standard question: “What brings you in today, Ms. Valerius?”

Aria didn’t even get the words out. She lunged for the nearby trash can, her body racking with a violent heave. “I think… food poisoning,” she gasped, wiping her mouth.

The nurse nodded, unfazed. “Any other symptoms?”

“It’s just… everything I ate,” Aria said, leaning back into the chair, her stomach feeling tight and strange. “I thought it was a bug, but today… even the smells. Certain foods make me turn my nose up. And I’m just so exhausted.”

The nurse traded the trash can for a sterile vomit bag. “The doctor will be in soon. Use this if you need to.”

When the doctor walked in, she was already scanning the digital chart. “Aria. It’s been, what, ten months since that pregnancy scare?”

Aria let out a jagged sigh, wanting nothing more than her bed and a dark room. “Yes. Sorry. I’m exhausted. Can you just… give me something for the food poisoning, please?”

The doctor didn’t reach for a prescription pad. She performed a routine exam, vitals, and a check of the eyes before patting Aria’s shoulder. “Get changed. I’ll be back.”

“Changed? For food poisoning?” Aria muttered to the empty room.

A few minutes later, the doctor returned, wheeling in a bulky machine with a glowing screen. “Up here, Aria. Lie down.”

Aria stared at the probe. “What is this for?”

“We’re going to check your uterus,” the doctor said simply.

Aria climbed onto the cold metal table, her skin shivering in the chill. As the doctor applied the gel and the probe, Aria felt a sharp, internal pinch. She hissed, her hands gripping the edges of the table. “That’s not pressure! That’s painful!”

“Breathe normally, Aria,” the doctor murmured, her eyes fixed on the monitor. She moved the wand slowly, navigating the shadows of the screen. Then, she stopped. “Ah. Here is your reason for the ‘food poisoning’.”

Aria turned her head, her breath catching in her throat. On the grainy black-and-white screen, there was something tiny. It didn’t look like much at first, just a shape in the dark, but then she saw it. A rhythmic, frantic flickering.

“What is that?”

The doctor smiled with a genuine, warm expression. “That right there is a nine-week-old baby. And that flickering? That’s the heartbeat.”

The world went silent. Aria froze, her eyes wide as tears began to blur the image. The heart was beating fast, a tiny, brave sound in a world that had been so cold for so long.

“Want the sonogram?”

Aria couldn’t speak. She just nodded, her chest aching with a new kind of pressure. The machine whirred, spitting out a small, glossy strip of paper. The doctor handed it to her. “You going to be okay?”

Gwen looked up from her magazine, her face etched with worry.

“Ms. Andersen,” the doctor called out, appearing in the doorway. “I think you might need to come back here.”

Gwen stood up, her heart in her throat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” the doctor said. “Come on back.”

As the door closed behind them, Aria finally allowed the first sob to break through. Gwen’s arms were around her in an instant, holding her tight. “It’s okay, Aria. Calm down. What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

Aria choked on the words, her voice a mix of wonder and terror. “I’m pregnant.”

At the firm, the low hum of the air conditioning was the only sound until Jason’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his gray eyes softening for a fraction of a second as he read the screen.

🛡️FreyaMaiden58: I’m fine. The doctor said it’s not food poisoning. Love you. See you tonight, DO NOT BE LATE!

Jason pocketed the phone, the “Hunter” in him settling. If it wasn’t food poisoning, she was safe. The client across the desk looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “Something the matter, Mr. Mendoza?”

Jason shook his head, pulling his focus back to the blueprints spread between them. “No. Just a text from the girl. They’re throwing me a surprise party tonight; I have to pretend I don’t know about it.”

The man chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair. “Ah. Well, happy birthday. What are you doing working on your birthday, anyway?”

Jason shrugged, the pencil moving across the paper with clinical precision as he added a last-minute structural detail. “It’s just another day to me. Take a look at this. Is the sight line better?”

The client leaned in, nodding slowly. “Yes. That’s perfect. When can they get started?”

Jason looked down at the new theater design, a small, private smile tugging at his lips. Architecture was about building things that lasted. “Call tomorrow. Contractors will be in, and I’ll stop by to oversee the foundation.”

The man stood, extending a hand. Jason hesitated; the reflex to avoid touch was still there, buried deep, but he took it. A firm, professional grip. He was learning that this was how you settled things instead of throwing punches.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 53 ⛩️ The New Perimeter💫

Chapter 55 ⏳The Weight & Present❤️

He yawned, stretching his muscles as he rolled out of bed. His bare feet hit the carpet, soft, deep, and warm. He had initially argued against it, his tactical mind insisting that hardwood was more sound for a “castle” defense, but Aria had won the debate with a simple, tired look. As the first winter snow drifted past the open window, he had to admit she was right.

“Jason… It’s cold,” Aria murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “Close the window, please.”

He obliged, the latch clicking with a finality that muted the outside world. He returned to her side, his hand lingering in her hair. “I’m going to shower, then I’ll get breakfast started. Stay warm.”

“Mhm… eggs please,” she groaned, burying her face in his pillow.

Jason paused. The air in the room had shifted. It was subtle, the faint, metallic scent of copper cutting through the warmth. It was a smell he had known long before he knew her.

Flashback: The Compound

The blindfold was thick, cutting off his sight and forcing his other senses to scream.

“Jason, what is this smell? Focus!” The director’s voice was like a whip.

“It’s a gargoyle, sir,” a younger Jason answered, his voice steady despite the adrenaline. “No challenge.”

“Good. Bring it closer!”

He heard the heavy, dragging footsteps and the hiss of a creature in pain. The smell hit him then, the musky, earthen scent of a gargoyle, but layered with something sharper, something rich and iron-like.

“What is different about this one, Jason? You know this.”

The creature let out a low, guttural growl, its tail lashing against the concrete. Jason reached out, his hands finding the rough, stone-like texture of its skin. He moved them lower, over the creature’s abdomen, and his heart skipped. “Sir… a pregnant gargoyle.”

The director’s clap echoed in the hollow room. “Excellent. Now, join the others for drills.”

The memory faded as the hot water of the shower hit his skin, but the scent stayed in the back of his throat. He shook it off, focusing on the day ahead, blueprints, remodels, and the life of a man who built things instead of tearing them down.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, the steam filled the room, and he heard a sudden, violent sound from the bedroom.

Aria had bolted from the bed, barely making it to the toilet before she began to heave. Jason was by her side in seconds, his hand steadying her as she slumped against the porcelain. “Aria? Still the seafood?”

She nodded weakly, rinsing her mouth at the sink. “I hope it’s not food poisoning. That’s the last time I let you order the special.”

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re warm. You should stay home.”

“Over a little nausea?” she scoffed, though her face was pale.

Jason didn’t argue. He reached into the cabinet and pressed a thermometer to her temple. “100. You’re staying in bed. Call Keith.”

“Jason, no! I have a shipment coming in.”

She didn’t finish. She turned and retched into the sink, her body racking with the effort. Jason shoved her gently toward the bedroom. “Go. Lie down. I’ll clean this up.” The mess didn’t bother him; he’d seen far worse. But the sight of her in pain made his jaw tighten with a frustration he couldn’t name.

Aria curled under the covers, her phone glowing in the dim light as she dialed the store. “Keith? Yeah… I’m sorry. The warden says I’m staying in bed today… No, I know. I don’t want to get anyone else sick. See you tomorrow.”

Jason returned a moment later, a cool, damp rag in hand. He laid it across her forehead, his eyes searching hers. “Aria… do you smell that?”

She sniffed the air, confused. “Other than the bleach you just used? No. Why?”

He leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose. “Nothing. Get some rest. I’ll bring up some toast.”

“I’m not a baby, Jason. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not babying you,” he whispered, a rare flicker of yearning in his gaze. “I’m taking care of my girlfriend. There’s a difference.”

He headed downstairs, the silence of the house amplified by the falling snow. He started the eggs, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in the rhythmic crack of the shells. He was so deep in his own head that he didn’t hear the front door chime or Gwen’s footsteps until she was standing in the kitchen.

“Jason? Earth to Jason.”

He blinked, looking down at the overcooked eggs in the pan. “Right. Sorry.”

Gwen sat at the heavy stone table, watching him. “Overcooked eggs and burnt toast? Is everything okay?”

“Aria’s sick,” he said, already starting over with fresh eggs. “I think it was the seafood from last night, but I’m worried.”

“I’ll check on her,” Gwen said, her voice softening. “I’ve got the day open. I can take her to get checked out if she doesn’t improve.”

A moment later, Aria appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a heavy robe and looking like a ghost of herself. “I’m starving,” she muttered, sliding into a chair.

“I told you to stay in bed,” Jason noted, though he was already sliding a fresh plate in front of her.

“You were taking too long,” she countered, though her hand was shaking as she reached for a piece of toast.

Jason leaned down, kissing her cheek. The metallic scent was stronger now, unmistakable. He looked up at Gwen, his expression turning sharp and tactical.

“Gwen… can I have a word with you in the hall?”

Gwen looked from Jason to Aria, the light of concern catching in her eyes. “Of course. Aria, eat up. Then go get changed.”

The yearning for a normal life was there, but as Jason stepped into the hallway, the “Hunter” in him was wide awake, calculating a reality he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

The hallway felt too narrow for the way Jason’s pulse was hammering. He paced the stone floor, his eyes snagging on a jagged edge of masonry he’d missed during the months of renovations. Usually, his mind would be cataloging the structural fix, but today, his senses were occupied by something far more primal.

Gwen crossed her arms, leaning against the archway. “Jason, you’re starting to scare me, and I don’t scare easily. What is going on?”

He spun around, his hands damp with a sweat that had nothing to do with the winter chill outside. “Don’t laugh… but Aria smells different.”

Gwen paused, an eyebrow arching. “Jason, have you been hanging around Houston too long? Are we doing the gargoyle ‘tracking’ thing now?”

Jason face-palmed, his voice dropping to a frustrated whisper. “No. The compound—they taught us how to differentiate scents. Tactical identification. Every gargoyle has a signature, Gwen.”

“And?” Gwen watched Aria’s silhouette disappear up the stairs. “What does she normally smell like to you?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the messy strands. “Normal… brimstone, damp moss, that vanilla perfume she likes. But this is different. It’s fainter. Like copper. Like fresh mortar.”

Gwen blinked, her skeptical expression suddenly freezing into something sharp and shocked. “And what does that mean to you, Jason?”

Jason went rigid, his breath hitching. “Aria is… no. She’d tell me. She would have said something.”

Gwen’s face softened, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You two have been busy for months building this house, Jason. Life moves fast when you’re finally free. Things can get missed.”

Jason’s hands trembled. He gripped the railing of the stairs to steady himself. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s just the dust in the house. My nose is off.”

“Look,” Gwen said, patting his shoulder with a firm, grounding hand. “I’ll take her in this morning. Get her looked at. You go worry about the firm, okay?”

Jason nodded, the weight of the “soldier” returning to his shoulders. “Thanks, Gwen. I know I should be the one, but…”

“You’re fine. Go finish getting ready.”

Jason turned and headed upstairs, the wood floor creaking under his heavy boots. He found Aria standing by the doorway of an unfinished room, staring into the space. “Aria? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

She turned, and the pale, nauseated look from the bathroom had vanished, replaced by a sudden, predatory heat in her eyes. She moved toward him, pulling him into the bedroom and kicking the heavy wooden door shut. She pressed him against the wall, her lips finding his in a kiss that was desperate and hungry.

“Aria… you aren’t feeling well,” Jason managed to gasp, his hands instinctively finding her waist to steady them both.

“I feel fine right now,” she whispered against his skin, her fingers working the buttons of his jeans.

“You shouldn’t be starting this,” he murmured, but his resolve was already disintegrating. He reached down, picking her up and carrying her to the bed in one fluid motion.

In the quiet of the winter morning, with the snow falling silently outside the glass, Jason paused, hovering over her. His gray eyes searched hers, the “Hunter” trying to read the “Target” one last time. “You sure you’re okay?”

Aria didn’t answer with words. She nipped at his collarbone, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him down into her heat.

“Don’t rush me,” he whispered, finally letting the world outside the room—the firm, the scents, and the secrets—fade into the background.

A while later, the sounds of the bedroom died down. Gwen, still waiting downstairs, rolled her eyes as she heard the rhythmic creak of the floorboards settle. “Oh, Ethan is just going to love this,” she muttered to the empty kitchen.

The door upstairs opened, and Jason walked down, looking slightly more disheveled but far less tense. He fished his keys off the counter, avoiding Gwen’s knowing gaze. “Erm… sorry. I’m heading out now. She’ll be up in a few. Make yourself at home.”

“Jason,” Gwen called out as he reached for the handle. “I’m sure Aria has mentioned the surprise party for you, but at least be surprised?”

Jason groaned, the nineteen-year-old in him finally surfacing. “I’m nineteen, Gwen. Surprise birthdays are for little kids.”

Gwen smiled, walking over to squeeze his arm. “Grown-ups are allowed to have a little magic, too.”

He sighed, his jaw softening. “Fine. You win. Because you guys are going to do it anyway, right?”

“Exactly.” Gwen nodded. “Now get to work before you’re late.”

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 52 🌌 The Future🖤

Chapter 54 📐Miscalculated Blueprints🖤

Jason stood over a massive slab of obsidian, his brow furrowed in a mask of absolute, tactical focus. He checked his digital level for the third time, the red laser line bleeding across the dark, glass-like surface of the stone like a fresh wound. He was dressed in a grease-stained tank top; his muscles were corded and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, and the dark Fenrir tattoo on his chest seemed to flex broader with his posture. To any onlooker, he looked exactly like the weapon he was built to be, but his mind was currently occupied with the peaceful, intricate math of load-bearing hearths and aesthetic symmetry.

“Okay,” Jason muttered, his voice echoing in the hollow, vaulted space. He braced his heavy tactical boots against the uneven floorboards. “If I use the pulley system and anchor it to the primary load-bearing beam, I should be able to pivot this into the hearth without compromising the structural integrity of the century-old floor joists. It’s a tight margin, but the physics hold.”

Aria stepped over a pile of raw, fragrant lumber, the soft tread of her boots nearly silent against the cold stone. She wiped a smudge of gray dust from her cheek, her eyes tracing the hard, rippling lines of his back with an unhidden, predatory hunger. “Or,” she said, her voice light and teasing, slicing through the heavy silence of the hall, “we could just put it there now and save the engineering degree for the plumbing, which, by the way, is currently making a sound like a dying wolf.”

Jason didn’t look up; his hands were already reaching for the heavy iron chains, his fingers testing the tension. “Aria, stay back. This slab weighs at least four hundred pounds of solid volcanic glass. I don’t want you anywhere near the ‘drop zone’ if the anchor slips or the chain snaps. It’s basic safety protocol.”

Aria arched a single, elegant eyebrow, her purple eyes glinting with amusement. Her wings gave a rhythmic, restless twitch behind her, the leathery sound like a deck of cards being shuffled at high speed. “Jason, I’m fine. Move aside and let someone with actual leverage have a look.”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping into that stubborn, tactical tone he used when he was worried, the voice that still tasted faintly of the Compound and cold commands. “I’m the architect here. I calculate the risks so you don’t have to. You’re… you.” He looked at her then, his gray eyes softening even as his jaw remained a hard, unyielding line of granite. “You’re small. You’re fragile. Just let me handle the heavy lifting for once. Let me be the one who does the work.”

Aria let out a jagged, incredulous laugh that bounced off the rafters and seemed to ring in the shadows. She walked right into his perimeter, ignoring the way his breath hitched as she breached his personal space. She placed one small hand on the cold, dark stone and looked him dead in the eye, her presence suddenly filling the room until the obsidian slab looked insignificant.

“Fragile?” she whispered, her purple eyes flashing with a playful but dangerous fire that made his pulse skip a beat. “Jason, I think your memory wipe went a little too deep. Or maybe you’ve spent too much time looking at human blueprints.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he argued, his fingers tightening on the chain until his knuckles went bone-white.

Aria didn’t argue. She simply adjusted her stance, her boots digging into the stone floor. Her obsidian claws lengthened just a fraction, scraping with a metallic shhh as they found purchase under the jagged, raw edge of the slab. With a grunt of effort that sounded more like a low, vibrating purr of power, she heaved.

Jason watched in stunned, absolute silence. His “Soldier” brain, usually so quick to provide a tactical response or a defensive maneuver, completely failed. The four-hundred-pound stone left the ground as if it were made of balsa wood. She didn’t just lift it; she carried it across the room with a fluid, predatory grace that mocked every law of physics Jason had ever studied. She set it into the hearth with a precision that matched his digital blueprints to the exact millimeter. The floor vibrated with the impact, sending a shiver through the soles of Jason’s boots, but the stone sat perfectly flush.

Aria turned back to him, dusting her hands off on her denim jeans, a triumphant, wicked smirk playing on her lips. “I tore a reinforced, bolted steel door off its hinges with my bare hands to get you out of that chair, Jason. I think I can handle a decorative rock for our living room.”

The “Machine” in Jason’s brain completely misfired. He stood there, his mouth slightly agape, looking from the perfectly set hearth back to the girl who had just shattered his “damsel” narrative for the hundredth time. He let out a low, breathless chuckle, the tension that lived in his shoulders finally snapping like a brittle wire.

“I… I keep forgetting,” he admitted, the boy finally peeking through the armor.

“Don’t,” she said, stepping back into his space until her chest was brushing his. She rested her hands on his sweating chest, her palms absorbing the frantic, heavy heat of his heart. “I’m not the asset you need to guard, Jason. I’m the partner who guards you. We are the perimeter.”

Jason reached out, his large, calloused hands settling on her waist, pulling her flush against him. The grit of the stone dust between them was a tactile reminder of the life they were building, making the moment feel more real, more earned. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes searching the violet depths of hers.

“Message received,” he whispered, his gray eyes full of an awe that had nothing to do with architecture and everything to do with the woman in his arms. “But for the record? Watching you do that… seeing that power… it makes me want to take you upstairs and forget about the blueprints for the rest of the night.”

Aria leaned in, her lips grazing the sensitive shell of his ear, her voice a velvet threat. ”Then come catch me if you can, Hunter. The stairs are a long way up.”

She smiled at him, a low purr vibrating in her chest as she spun out of his reach with supernatural speed. She disappeared into the shifting shadows of the grand staircase, heading toward the dark, private sanctuary of the upper floors.

Jason didn’t hesitate. He tossed his digital level onto the lumber pile, the “Architect” and the “Soldier” forgotten in the wake of the man he was becoming. He hurried up the stairs after her, his laughter echoing in the halls of their new home. The construction could wait. The future was finally calling.

🫂To Belong 🫂- (Gargoyles Series 1)

Chapter 51🏔️Mountain Road Reunion🚗

Chapter 53 ⛩️ The New Perimeter💫