Melvin glanced briefly at Mac before answering, not for permission, just because some things belonged to both of them.
“They exist,” Melvin said. “More than you’d think.”
Reynolds frowned. “How?”
“Family mostly,” Melvin said. “Bloodlines run longer than the changes do. Someone might be born human even if their parents aren’t. Or the trait skips a generation and shows up again later.”
Mac nodded once. “Happens all the time.”
“You get families where one kid shifts and the next doesn’t,” Melvin said. “Or grandparents who were something and nobody talks about it until it shows back up. Some grow up knowing. Some figure it out later.”
“So they just live with it?”
“Most do,” Mac said. “Council keeps an eye on the ones who know too much too young. Make sure nobody gets careless.”
Melvin added, “And sometimes the knowledge comes with the bond instead of the blood.”
Reynolds looked up. “Bond?”
Melvin hesitated just long enough to feel it.
“Mates,” he said.
The word settled between them with weight. He kept his eyes on Reynolds, but he was aware of Mac beside him in a way that felt sharper than before.
Reynolds glanced between them. “You mean like… both supernatural?”
“Sometimes,” Mac said.
“Not always,” Melvin said.
Reynolds leaned forward. “Humans too?”
Melvin nodded. “Somewhat rare, but it happens.”
Mac’s voice stayed calm, matter-of-fact. “Bond doesn’t care what you are. If it’s there, it’s there.”
The words landed somewhere deeper than conversation, the certainty in Mac’s tone matching something Melvin had only begun to admit to himself that morning.
Reynolds watched them a moment longer than he probably realized, then nodded slowly. “So they know.”
“Eventually,” Melvin said.
Mac gave a faint half-smile. “Usually before anyone else does.”
Reynolds leaned back again, letting out a slow breath. “Feels like every answer just opens up ten more questions.”
Melvin smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
“You get used to that part,” Mac said.
Melvin watched Reynolds, seeing the steadiness in him now that hadn’t been there in Iraq. Reynolds wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was learning how to live with it.
And in the back of Melvin’s mind, quieter than thought but impossible to ignore, the word he’d spoken that morning no longer felt like speculation.
Only time.
They finished the meal without much more conversation, the quiet between them easy. When they stood and returned their trays, the simple routine felt almost reassuring after everything below ground.
