8. Watching the Dark #3
By 8:00 AM, the kitchen island had turned into a tactical review station. Garrett ran the overnight camera footage back at normal speed, focusing entirely on the 3:42 AM timestamp.
Garrett isolated the footage and checked the timestamp. Thirty seconds. From the instant Sydney bolted from the chair until Garrett's eyes opened, the entire episode had lasted half a minute.
The digital recording was entirely merciless.
It showed Garrett lying perfectly flat on his back, his eyes closed, his breathing undisturbed.
Then, right on cue, Sydney rushed into the frame, grabbing his hand.
The video captured his large fingers closing around hers, giving her that exact, three-finger reassuring squeeze, all while his facial features remained completely slack and asleep.
There was no smoke. No glowing runes. No supernatural phenomena. Just a sleeping man.
Garrett watched the screen, his expression a tight, grim mask as he watched all the emotion drain from his face for a brief moment. Sydney watched Garrett watch himself.
"So whatever happened..." Garrett paused, his voice dropping a register as the realization settled heavily into his chest. "...didn't need me to go anywhere."
The realization threatened to turn the cottage claustrophobic, but cool heads prevailed and broke the tension. Following Carrick’s directive, Grey established a secure comms link with the MacAllen Dragon Clan and tracked down a specialized medical professional.
Barbara MacAllen, matriarch of the MacAllen Family Clan, recommended her niece, Dr. Darcy Thorntree. She was not only related to the MacAllens, but she was the granddaughter of the legendary great Cherokee Chief, Cheveyo Thorntree, and a powerful Timberwolf Shifter in her own right.
More importantly, she was a certified genius and one of the foremost neurological trauma specialists in the country. Knowing an expert of her caliber was coming made everyone feel better.
"Enough staring at screens," Sydney commanded, physically reaching over to shut Garrett's phone off.
Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward the back door.
"Go outside. Sit at the picnic table in the backyard.
Enjoy the Texas sunlight while I go brew a fresh pot of coffee and help Ginnie with breakfast."
Watching her Mate through the kitchen window, she sighed with relief when Grey strolled around the corner of the house, a massive mug of coffee already in his hand. He had been reviewing the security logs with Carrick, but the second he saw Garrett's somber face, the brother took over.
"I heard about the midnight hand squeeze, little brother," Grey chuckled, leaning his elbow on the railing. "Aw. Look at you. Even completely unconscious and dissociating, you’re absolutely whipped."
Garrett didn't even blink. He reached down, scooped up a stray pinecone from the porch deck, and hurled it with military accuracy straight at Grey’s chest. Grey caught it mid-air with a loud bark of laughter, the familiar, easy sibling friction instantly breaking the heavy quiet.
Inside the main house, Syd saw Carrick working a separate line of communications, his laptop screen glowing with a secure video call. Emma's face appeared on the screen, bright and happy as she talked.
Carrick asked, adjusting his collar out of habit. "Do you think the Dragon scale in my tie tack is going to be all right? I need to wear it to the Council meeting next week, and it’s been sitting in Garrett’s denim jacket for days."
"Carrick, it's an ancient Dragon scale, not a sugar cube. It's survived centuries. It can survive a denim pocket."
Emma laughed. "That's half the reason I love working with shed scales. Each is unique to the Dragon it came from. No two pieces are ever exactly alike. That's what makes them personal."
By late afternoon, the sun began to dip below the ridgeline, painting the Texas sky in deep shades of purple and orange. Garrett stood by the bedroom window, watching the shadows lengthen across the pasture.
"I never left the bed last night, Syd," he said softly, his back to her.
Sydney walked up behind him, her arms sliding around his waist as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder blade. "I know."
Turning in her embrace, he looked down into her eyes. "That should make me feel better."
"Does it?" she asked gently.
"No," Garrett murmured, kissing the top of her head.
As the clock crept toward 11:00 PM, they prepared for bed with a strange, quiet calm.
Sydney knew neither one of them was less frightened, but the systematic collection of data gave them a sense of structural order.
Grey had already taken his position in the heavy wooden chair out in the hallway.
The security camera’s red light was glowing steadily in the corner of the ceiling.
Climbing under the covers beside him, the sheets cool against her skin, she reached out, her fingers interlocking with his. "Coffee tomorrow?"
Garrett smiled at her, his expression melting into absolute warmth. "Absolutely."
Reaching over, he clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the bedroom into a calm, moonlit dark. They closed their eyes, preparing to slide into the deep, deep structures of sleep.
“Lad.”
The mental voice of the Dragon King, with whom Garrett had shared his soul, resonated through the Mating Bond Sydney shared with her Mate. It was incredibly quiet. It didn't rumble, and it didn't command. Han was speaking from the absolute center of Garrett’s psyche.
Hovering at the edge of sleep, her Mate asked, “What is it, Han?”
The Dragon King hesitated. There was a strange flicker of uncertainty. It was very strange. A Dragon King did not hesitate. He did not doubt.
“When you vanished last night... at 3:42,” Han rumbled, his mental voice dropping into a ghostly whisper. “I dreamed.”
Garrett’s entire mind went completely, terrifyingly still. Sydney opened her eyes to be sure he was okay.
The darkness behind her Mate’s eyelids suddenly felt vast and hostile as he asked, “What did you dream about, Han?”
Han was quiet for one long, agonizing second. Then he breathed, “I don't remember.”