I freeze mid-step.
He sees it.
He sees the blood. He sees the hybrid nature I’ve been trying to shield.
Ella’s voice echoes behind me: “Careful, love.” She’s following close. I turn, pressing Vex’s face into my chest to hide him, and nod stiffly toward the soldier. I push past him, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
We buy a cold fruit drink from a street stall to blend in. Vex squirts some on my hand. The juice is sticky and cold. I let him play, but my eyes are darting, scanning, assessing every face in the crowd.
Do they all know?
The vendor nods at me respectfully. “Good father,” he says in a clipped accent.
I swallow, throat dry. “Trying to be.”
He smiles. Doesn’t pry.
But now, every glance I get in the market looks like an accusation. I see measurement. I see calculation. I walk with broad shoulders, protectiveness baked in my posture, but inside I’m spiraling.
If a random soldier can see the scales beneath the skin, a magistrate will too. We are walking through a city of glass with a stone in our hands.
Later, under a neon canopy, I try not to ask. But the fear burns:Is it too obvious?
Ella sits beside me on a crate, watching me watch the crowd. I shift, blocking the line of sight to Vex.
She meets my eyes. She sees the tension radiating off me.
“He saw,” I say, voice barely a whisper.
Ella stiffens. “Who?”
“The officer. He looked at Vex and heknew, Ella. He recognized the blood.”
She reaches for my arm, her grip tight. “Vex is covered. He’s just a baby.”
“He’s a hybrid,” I hiss, low so no one else hears. “And he’s getting bigger. We can’t hide what he is forever.”
She looks away, biting her lip. “We don’t have to hide him. We just have to protect him.”
“Protection requires walls,” I say. “We’re out in the open.”
We sit in silence as the market sings around us: clatter, chatter, sizzling grills. I trace patterns on Vex’s tiny hand. I memorize the shape. The curve of his nails, sharper than a human infant’s. The way his skin feels tougher, denser.
He is mine. Undeniably, dangerously mine.
Back at the workshop, the sun sets, casting long, bruised shadows across the floor. I put Vex down in his crib and stand there, flexing my hands. The harness has rubbed my skin raw, but I don't feel it.
Ella watches me from the doorway. “You’re spiraling.”
I turn to her. “I’m assessing threats.”
“Takhiss…”
“Autrua was right about one thing,” I say, the words tasting like bile. “Paperwork. Legitimacy. If they drag us before a Tribunal, and they see him… they will classify him as an experiment. Unless I have the power to stop them.”
Ella crosses the room and presses her hand to my chest. “We will figure it out.”
I cover her hand with mine. “I won’t let them take him. Or you.”
