Chapter 28
Riley
The night air carried the scent of pine and mountain sage as I crouched in the shadows behind the luminook pen.
Stars scattered across the inky sky like diamond dust, offering just enough light to see without betraying our position.
My muscles ached from holding still for so long, but I remained motionless, barely breathing.
Dungar had positioned himself on the opposite side of the clearing, his large frame somehow melting into the darkness.
His brothers had stationed themselves with their mates at strategic points around the perimeter, creating an invisible net ready to close in on our target—assuming they acted tonight.
If they didn’t, we’d repeat the procedure each evening until they did.
“Movement at the north entrance,” Ruugar whispered through my earpiece. “A single figure approaching along the maintenance path, wearing a mask and loose clothing.”
My pulse quickened. “Awesome,” I breathed, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, ready to move.
Through my night vision binoculars, I spotted them slipping between the trees peppering the open grassy area north of the luminook pens. They moved carefully, aiming for the pens.
They were carrying a crate, and I suspected it was the one we’d found in the maintenance shed.
“Crate in hand,” I whispered through my radio.
“Wait until they’re fully committed,” Dungar said. “Let them enter the pen.”
I watched as they paused at the main enclosure, checking the area before producing a tool to work the lock. The gate swung open with barely a sound, and they stepped inside, immediately moving toward the sleeping luminooks, the cage in hand.
“Now,” Dungar said.
I burst from my hiding place, sprinting toward the pen as floodlights blazed to life, bathing the entire area in harsh white light. They froze for half a second before bolting, abandoning the cage as they raced out through the gate, aiming for the open plain.
“Stop, Sheriff’s department,” I shouted, giving chase.
They were fast, their feet barely touching the ground as they fled. They vaulted over a fallen log, clearly familiar with the terrain. Around me, the heavier footfalls of Dungar and his brothers rang out as they converged from different directions.
The person veered left, heading toward a steep ravine that would be nearly impossible to navigate in the dark. Smart. If they reached it before us, they’d have a good chance of disappearing.
I cut diagonally across the open ground, pushing my legs harder, gaining precious distance. Just as they reached the tip of the ravine, I launched forward in a diving tackle that caught them around the knees. We both went down hard, rolling through the underbrush in a tangle of limbs.
“Got you,” I panted, struggling to pin their surprisingly small frame as they thrashed beneath me.
“Let me go,” a panicked voice cried out.
Dungar rushed over to stand beside us, helping me secure the writhing figure and sit them up on the ground.
“It’s over,” he said. “You’re caught.”
I stood while the others approached with flashlights blazing.
I pulled off the ski mask covering their face. My jaw dropped.
“You?”
Dark hair tumbled around the teenager Jamie’s face, and her expression held a hardness that didn’t belong on someone so young.
“Jamie?” Dungar growled. “Jamie Morgan?”
She stopped struggling, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You weren’t supposed to catch me.”
“Peter Morgan’s daughter.”
“I bet she knows a Franklin Prescott,” Gracie said.
“My uncle.” Jamie didn’t look up.
Dungar helped her to her feet while keeping a firm grip on her arm. “Caught in the act.”
Jamie refused to meet our eyes, her gaze fixed on the ground as Sel retrieved the cage and secured the luminook pen once more.
“Find her father,” Dungar told Sel. “Tell him to meet us at the jailhouse.”
Sel nodded and left with Holly, the others dispersing as well.
“I wasn’t going to hurt them,” Jamie said, sitting across from us in the sheriff’s office, her dad pacing the floor behind her. “I was studying them.”
Dungar sat beside me, facing the teenage girl.
“Studying them required breaking into private property and tampering with our security systems?” I kept my voice gentle despite the seriousness of the situation.
Something about this girl’s defiant vulnerability reminded me of myself at that age.
Back then, I’d been determined to prove myself and was desperate to be taken seriously.
“No one would let me near them otherwise.” Jamie’s voice cracked. “Dad just wanted the stupid tourist experience, but I saw what they really were. How special they are.”
“Your father didn’t know what you’ve been doing,” Dungar stated rather than asked.
“Of course I didn’t,” the older man growled, stopping his pacing to glare at the back of his daughter’s head.
“Do you realize how this could ruin me, Jamie? Did it ever occur to you that they’d think I was involved?
I head the innovation department at Sillavar Research.
” His gaze sought mine. “I swear. I didn’t know. ”
Head of innovation? We weren’t wrong to consider the research facility, then.
“Dad thinks I’m obsessed with them because they’re pretty,” Jamie said. “He doesn’t understand that they’re revolutionary.”
“In what way?” I leaned forward, actually curious.
Jamie’s eyes lit up as she launched into an explanation of the luminook’s bioluminescent properties, their complex communication patterns, and the potential applications of their genetic material.
“Their light production is chemical-free and generates almost no heat. Do you have any idea what that could mean for medical imaging? For sustainable lighting solutions? For treating diseases?”
“My little scientist,” her father said with a wry twist of his mouth. He was angry but pride came through in his voice. “Maybe it was a mistake to buy you that chemistry set when you were ten.”
Jamie shook her head. “I would’ve found one or begged the high school chemistry department to let me play around in the lab after school if you hadn’t.”
“This doesn’t excuse you, young lady,” her father said.
“Is that why you’ve been harvesting samples?” Becken asked.
“I needed enough data to prove my theories.” She looked up, meeting our eyes for the first time. “I’m presenting at the Young Scientists Competition next month. This could be my ticket to a scholarship.”
I studied her face, recognizing her desperation. “Jamie, why not just ask for permission to study them? Ruugar would probably have helped you.”
Something complicated flashed across her expression. “Adults never take teenagers seriously. They say they do, but they don’t. Not really.”
The hurt in her voice struck deep. “So you decided to handle this in your own way.”
“I had to.” Her chin lifted. “This research could change everything for me. I could get into any college program I wanted.”
I glanced at Dungar, whose dark eyes met mine in silent communication. We both recognized there was more to this story.
“Jamie,” I asked, “where’s your mom in all this?”
Her shoulders tensed. “Gone. Left when I was ten.” She tried to sound nonchalant but couldn’t quite manage it. “Dad works all the time. He’s trying, but…” She shrugged. “Science is the one thing that’s mine. The one thing I’m good at.”
This wasn’t just about research or scholarships. This was about a lonely girl trying to carve out an identity, to find meaning and purpose in a world where she felt overlooked.
“The luminooks are special to you,” I said.
Jamie nodded, her tough facade slipping. “They glow brighter when I’m around. Like they recognize me. Even after I take samples, they still come to me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Nothing else has ever done that.”
My heart ached for her. I’d felt that same desperate longing to be seen, to be important to someone or something. It had driven me into forensic accounting, the satisfaction of untangling complex financial puzzles filling a void I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
“Taking samples without permission is still wrong,” Dungar said, though his tone had softened considerably. “And dangerous for both you and the luminooks.”
“I know.” Jamie sighed. “But I was careful. I researched everything first. I documented every interaction, every reaction. I never took more than they could regenerate within days.”
Dungar’s expression had shifted from stern to thoughtful. Jamie’s methods were unethical, but her passion and attention to detail were undeniable.
“Jamie,” her father said, his voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy with work.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “And I needed to do this myself.”
“Honey, if science means this much to you, we could’ve found a legitimate way to pursue it.” His hand reached for hers. “I would’ve helped you.”
“You don’t get it.” Her face darkened, her eyes flashing. “This isn’t only about science. It’s about finding something that matters, something that sees me.”
Her father flinched.
After a lengthy discussion about legal consequences, Dungar cleared his throat. “I’d like to propose an alternative to formal charges.”
All eyes turned to him.
“Jamie has shown exceptional observational skills and a genuine interest in luminook biology.” He arranged his pens in a precise line before continuing. “Ruugar could use an assistant during school breaks, someone to help document the luminooks’ adaptation to surface conditions.”
Hope flashed across Jamie’s face. “Really?”
“Supervised, of course,” Dungar clarified. “With proper protocols and permissions.”
“Community service with the luminooks,” I said, catching on to his thinking. “Contributing to legitimate research while making amends for the trespassing and tampering.”
Peter looked at his daughter. “Would you want that?”
“More than anything,” she breathed.
“Then we accept,” Peter said, relief evident in his voice. “And Jamie, we’re going to talk about more than just your punishment when we get back to the hotel.”
She nodded, and for the first time all night, her shoulders relaxed.
After arranging details for her community service and ensuring Peter understood the seriousness of what had happened, we watched them leave. Jamie paused at the door, looking back at us.
“Thank you for giving me a second chance,” she said.
The words struck me like an arrow to the heart.
Later that night, Dungar and I stood on his back porch, mugs of tea sitting on the railing in front of us. Treelee grazed peacefully in the paddock beside the barn, her big form silhouetted against the starlit sky.
“You were brilliant with Jamie,” Dungar said. “You understood what she needed immediately.”
I smiled, leaning against his solid warmth. “I recognized something in her. That feeling of being adrift, searching for a place where you matter.”
“Is that how you felt when you arrived here?” His arm curved around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
I traced the golden mark on my wrist, still marveling that I’d mate-bonded with Dungar. “I was running from danger, but I was also running toward something without knowing what it was.”
“And did you find it?” His question came soft, vulnerable in a way that made my heart squeeze.
I turned to face him, taking in his beautiful features in the silvery moonlight. His dark eyes watched me with such tenderness that it stole my breath.
“I found you,” I said. “I found a home I never knew I was looking for.”
He cupped my cheek with his warm hand. “When you first walked into my office, everything in my world shifted. All my careful systems and order suddenly had a purpose beyond themselves.”
“Because I complicated everything?” I teased.
“Because you completed everything. My life was organized, but you filled spaces I didn’t know were empty.”
“I never thought I’d stay anywhere for long. Never thought I’d find someone who would see past my defenses and still want me.”
“I see all of you, Riley James.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Your strength, your intelligence, your compassion. The way you understand people. How you fought for justice even when it cost you everything.”
“And I see you, Dungar Bronish.” I ran my fingers through his dark hair. “Your careful attention to detail that keeps everyone safe. The kindness beneath your structured exterior. How you make room in your precisely ordered world for those who need shelter.”
His kiss tasted sweet, his large hands cradling me with a gentleness that countered his strength. When we broke apart, I could see our future reflected in his eyes.
“What happens now?” I asked, though I already knew the answer deep in my bones.
“Now we build a life together.” He took my hand, kissing the golden mark on my wrist. “I’ve already started planning. I’ve designed an extension for the house that’ll include a home office for us both. Matching desks, though yours will be sized for a human.”
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. “Of course you have. Let me guess, you’ve drawn up blueprints with color-coded zones?”
“Three sets, actually.” His expression remained serious, but his eyes danced with humor. “With alternative arrangements depending on your preferences.”
“I love you.” The words flowed easily now. “Every meticulous, thorough, wonderfully methodical inch of you, Dungar Bronish.”
“And I love you.” His arms tightened around me. “Every adaptive, resilient, remarkably intuitive part of you, Riley James.”
As we stood together under the vast sky, the final pieces of my heart slid into place. I’d come to Lonesome Creek as Riley Smith, a woman in hiding, afraid to form connections that might become weaknesses. I would remain here as Riley James-Bronish, a woman who had found strength in belonging.
The golden mark on my wrist caught the moonlight. This wasn’t an ending. It was the beginning of everything I’d never dared to want.
And with Dungar beside me, it would be meticulously, perfectly, wonderfully right.