Kai avoided them for three days.

  It wasn't difficult in the sprawling safe house—taking different sleep schedules, disappearing onto the rooftop when he heard them approaching, leaving rooms when they entered. The hybrid in him made stealth second nature, vampire silence combined with werewolf sensory awareness.

  He told himself it was for the best. They had each other now. The way they moved around each other had changed—small touches, lingering gnces, the gravitational pull between them unmistakable. Their happiness was palpable, filling the house with a warmth Kai both craved and feared.

  Where did he fit in that equation? Nowhere, his survival instincts insisted. He was just a complication, an added responsibility they'd taken on during a crisis. They were being kind, protective—but ultimately, they were together, and he was... temporary.

  Better to maintain distance. Prepare for inevitable departure.

  On the fourth day, cornered in the kitchen while making a te-night sandwich, his careful avoidance colpsed.

  "This is getting ridiculous," Noah said, blocking the doorway with his solid frame. "We need to talk."

  Kai kept his eyes on his sandwich. "Nothing to talk about."

  "You've been avoiding us since we arrived," Noah countered. "Pretty sure that qualifies as something."

  Elias appeared behind Noah, his quiet presence completing the trap. "Perhaps we could sit down together? Like civilized beings rather than circling each other like wary predators."

  The gentle humor in his voice made something twist in Kai's chest. "Fine," he conceded, grabbing his pte and moving to the table. "Talk."

  Noah and Elias exchanged a gnce, one of those silent communications that only emphasized Kai's outsider status. They sat across from him, a united front.

  "We've noticed you've been... distant," Elias began.

  "Since you saw us together," Noah added directly.

  Kai shrugged, aiming for casual indifference. "You two are together. Makes sense. Why would that bother me?"

  "Because you're worried about what it means for your pce here," Elias stated simply.

  The accuracy of the observation pierced Kai's defenses. He looked up, finding no pity in their expressions—only genuine concern.

  "I don't belong here," he said finally. "With you. I never did. It was temporary. Emergency housing, healing time, Council protection. That's all."

  "Is that what you think?" Noah asked quietly. "That we see you as temporary?"

  "Aren't I?" Kai challenged. "You two found each other. Great. Happy ending. Where exactly do I fit in that story?"

  The question hung in the air between them, raw and honest. To Kai's surprise, neither of them rushed to offer ptitudes or easy reassurances.

  "Where do you want to fit?" Elias asked instead, his ancient eyes holding Kai's steadily.

  The unexpected question caught Kai off guard. Want? When had what he wanted ever mattered? His entire life had been defined by necessity, by survival, by making do with whatever scraps of security and connection he could find.

  "I don't know," he admitted, the honesty painful. "I've never... belonged anywhere. To anyone."

  Noah leaned forward, his expression earnest. "What if you could? Belong here, with us?"

  "As what?" Kai demanded. "Your charity case? Your token hybrid? The stray you took in during a crisis?"

  "As someone we care about," Noah said simply. "Someone who matters to us."

  Kai stared at him, searching for deception or pity and finding none. "You barely know me."

  "We know enough to recognize someone worth knowing better," Elias replied. "Someone who deserves more than a lifetime of running."

  Their words struck a chord so deep in Kai it physically hurt. "I don't know how to do this," he admitted, voice barely audible. "How to trust. How to stay."

  "Neither do I," Elias said with surprising candor. "I spent centuries in self-imposed isotion. Learning to open myself to others has been... challenging."

  "We're all figuring it out," Noah added gently. "Day by day."

  The honesty in their expressions and the ck of pressure or expectation loosened something in Kai's chest—a tight knot of loneliness he'd carried for so long he'd forgotten it wasn't part of his natural state.

  "I want to try," he said finally, the admission costing him more than any physical pain ever could. "To stay. At least for now."

  Noah's smile was warm and genuine. "That's all we're asking. One day at a time."

  "No pressure," Elias assured him. "Just... presence. Yours with ours."

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Kai let himself believe in possibility—not just survival but connection. Not just temporary shelter, but something that might, with time and trust, become home.

  The Council task force convened the following week. Representatives from every supernatural faction gathered in a secure location, bound by ancient oaths to cooperate despite traditional enmities.

  Kai, Noah, and Elias arrived together, their unified presence drawing curious gnces. Victoria greeted them with knowing eyes.

  "Our intelligence has located one of Westfield's secondary boratories," she informed them. "A facility on the outskirts of the city, disguised as a pharmaceutical research center."

  Maps and satellite images were dispyed, security systems outlined, guard rotations detailed. The Council's resources were impressive, Kai had to admit.

  "Our primary objective is to destroy his research," an elder vampire stated. "Particurly anything reted to the bioweapon."

  "And capture Westfield himself, if possible," added a werewolf representative.

  "What about other captives?" Kai asked, thinking of his fellow hybrids, of anyone caught in Westfield's nets. "There could be prisoners."

  "Rescue operations are secondary to neutralizing the threat," the vampire replied dismissively.

  Noah bristled beside him. "Living beings aren't 'secondary' to anything."

  "Mr. Parker," Victoria intervened smoothly, "your concern is noted. Rescue teams will be part of the operation. However, we must prioritize preventing a weapon that could eradicate our entire community."

  The pnning continued, factions assigned responsibilities based on their strengths. Vampires would handle stealth entry, werewolves provide muscle, fae magical support and countermeasures.

  "And hybrids?" Kai asked pointedly.

  Victoria's ancient eyes met his. "You have firsthand knowledge of Westfield's operations. Your insights are invaluable for pnning. But given your unique status and Westfield's specific interest in hybrid biology, the Council recommends you remain here, in safety."

  Anger fshed through Kai—the familiar, bitter taste of being sidelined, protected, contained. "Not happening," he stated ftly. "If you're raiding his b, I'm going."

  "Mr. Winters—" Victoria began.

  "He has experience with the facility yout," Elias interrupted. "Knowledge of Westfield's research that none of us possess. And perhaps most importantly, a connection to any hybrids being held there that might facilitate rescue."

  Noah nodded firmly. "Kai comes with us, or we don't participate."

  Their unified support left Kai momentarily stunned. No one had ever stood up for him like this—pced themselves between him and authority, defended his right to choose his own path.

  Victoria studied the three of them with calcuting eyes. "Very well," she conceded finally. "But you remain with the secondary team, Mr. Winters. Away from direct confrontation."

  Kai opened his mouth to protest, but Noah's hand on his arm stopped him. "Acceptable," Elias agreed for them all.

  As the meeting dispersed into specialized pnning groups, Kai found himself briefly alone with Noah and Elias.

  "You didn't have to do that," he said quietly. "Stand up for me."

  "Yes, we did," Noah replied simply.

  "We look out for each other," Elias added. "That's what happens when people care about one another."

  The words sent a complicated mix of emotions through Kai—gratitude, confusion, hope, fear. In just a few weeks, these two had shown him more genuine care than he'd experienced in years. It was terrifying how quickly he'd come to rely on their presence, how much he wanted to believe in the possibility they offered.

  "The raid is dangerous," he warned them. "Westfield is ruthless, prepared. And if Rose Thorns are involved..."

  "We'll be careful," Noah assured him.

  "And we'll have each other," Elias added, his calm certainty somehow steadying Kai's anxiety.

  As they rejoined the pnning teams, Kai felt something unfamiliar settling in his chest—not just the constant vigince of survival, but the tentative warmth of connection. Of being valued. Of mattering to someone beyond what use they could make of him.

  It wasn't family yet—they were still learning each other, still finding their way through this strange alliance they'd formed. But it was a beginning. A foundation that might, with time and trust, grow into something more.

  For now, that was enough—the three of them facing forward together, connected by choice rather than necessity. Standing against the gathering storm not as solitary survivors, but as something stronger, something still taking shape but already precious.

  Something worth fighting for.