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The hall was quiet—the kind of quiet that belonged only to places where sound was expected to obey. Marble reflected torchlight in soft, cold gleams. The air carried the faint mineral scent of stone polished for centuries by passing immortals.
Demetri was halfway through explaining—again—why humans were not meant to be brought this close to the inner corridors, his tone patient but edged with long familiarity, when the air folded.
Not shattered.
Folded.
Reality bent inward on itself like fabric pinched between invisible fingers.
Felix stiffened instantly, every muscle locking into readiness, boots barely shifting against the floor.
Edward froze, breath hitching as something cold and alien scraped against his mind like static—not thoughts, not intent, but absence. A blank where there should have been something to read.
Alice’s eyes went unfocused, pupils dilating as the futures she’d been tracking fractured and scattered like glass thrown into the dark.
Bella gasped, hands flying to her chest as pressure rippled outward, popping faintly in her ears.
A portal tore open at the far end of the hallway, light bending inward in a tight, circular wound. The edges shimmered, warping color and depth, swallowing torchlight whole. Dust lifted from the marble floor as gravity twisted, loose pebbles skittering toward the distortion.
A woman fell through.
She hit hard—boots striking stone—but caught herself on the edge of a reception table, fingers digging in as the wood creaked under sudden strain. Her boots skidded once before she straightened, already scanning, already braced. Her posture snapped into readiness like muscle memory had taken over before conscious thought.
Her heartbeat was fast—but controlled. No spike of blind panic. No flare of terror.
Demetri noticed that first.
Then something else stepped through the portal.
It looked human.
Perfectly proportioned. Skin warm-toned. Eyes attentive.
Wrong.
Felix’s lip curled, teeth flashing. “That’s not—”
“—alive,” Edward finished sharply, his voice tight with revulsion as his senses slid uselessly off the thing.
The thing inclined its head toward the woman with something disturbingly close to reverence.
“Quake,” it said, voice smooth and reverent, each syllable precise.
“Destroyer of Worlds. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Bella flinched at the tone, instinctively pressing closer to Edward.
The woman snorted.
Not nervous. Not startled.
Amused.
Demetri felt something spark inside him, different this time.
Instinct hit like lightning. He knew, without thinking, that she was his mate. Not just presence—belonging. Emotional tether. Protective urge flaring before conscious thought could form.
She moved.
Not with vampiric speed—but with intent. Every motion economical, every shift purposeful.
He tracked her, pulse and movements intertwined with his own instincts: stay close, watch her, protect her.
She shoved the reception table sideways with a force that never touched it directly. The table screamed across the marble and slammed into the creature, driving it into the wall with a crack of stone that echoed down the corridor.
Edward’s eyes widened. “She didn’t touch it.”
Felix growled softly. “Directed force.”
The creature rebounded instantly. Fast. Too fast for human reflexes.
Bella gasped as its arm sliced through the air where the woman’s head had been a second earlier, fingertips splitting the space she’d vacated.
She ducked, seized a ceramic vase, and shattered it against its face. Shards exploded outward, skittering across the floor.
It didn’t react. Not to pain. Not to impact.
Bella made a small, frightened sound.
The woman didn’t slow.
She released a short pulse—felt more than heard—and the creature skidded backward across the marble, boots carving pale lines into the floor as friction screamed in protest.
Demetri tilted his head, instinct thrumming. She controls everything. Every motion, every burst of power, every inch of space.
“She’s controlling the damage,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Edward stared. “Why?”
Before Demetri could answer, the creature lunged again.
The woman swept its legs, flipped it hard, and slammed her palm into its chest. The vibration hummed through the hall—low, contained, resonating in bone and stone alike.
Cracks spread beneath the creature’s back like frost racing across glass.
The floor held.
Felix’s brows rose. “Restraint.”
Demetri’s eyes were locked on her. Protective instinct surged. No one touches her.
The creature grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. She collided with it, rolled, and came up near a workstation, boots sliding through debris.
Bella squeezed Edward’s arm. “She’s going to get killed.”
Edward shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving the fight. “No. She’s not.”
The woman grabbed a keyboard and smashed it into the creature’s throat.
Plastic shattered.
Then the monitor.
Glass burst.
Then the entire rolling desk—with another shove—sending both desk and enemy into the wall together.
Stone cracked.
The wall held.
The creature rose again.
Alice frowned, unease creeping into her expression. “It should be down.”
Demetri smiled faintly. She’s learning it. She’s controlling it. And I— awareness pulsed through him, tied to every micro-movement she made. She is mine to track. Mine to guard.
The woman yanked a pencil from a holder as it advanced, spun it once, and drove it upward beneath its jaw with a sharp, precise pulse.
The creature froze.
Its skin flickered—pixels misaligning.
Silver metal bled through.
Bella stared. “It’s—melting?”
The woman shoved it backward through a doorway and slammed her hand out.
The creature hit the far wall and stayed there.
Silence rushed in, heavy and sudden.
Then—
The portal flared again.
Felix stepped forward a fraction, instinct screaming threat.
Two more of the machines emerged, spreading out with synchronized precision, movements mirrored too perfectly to be natural.
The portal snapped shut.
Edward sucked in a breath. “Now she’s outnumbered.”
The woman rolled her shoulders once. Calm. Focused. Power coiled tight beneath her skin.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “That tracks.”
The first charged.
She seized a tall flower vase and hurled it—not with her arm, but with force. It struck like artillery, exploding against the creature’s chest and slamming it back into the second.
Felix’s grin flashed sharp. “Efficient.”
She closed the distance.
Elbow. Palm. Knee.
Each strike layered with short, invisible bursts. One creature went airborne, hit a column, and slid down, joints locking with a metallic whine.
The other adapted mid-fight—stance shifting, strikes angling differently.
Edward leaned forward. “It’s changing tactics.”
“So is she,” Demetri said, eyes bright. Every movement she made sent pulses through him: heartbeat, force, intention, survival. Mine to guard.
The woman grabbed the edge of a stone bench and released a measured shove.
The bench slammed into the creature and crushed it against the wall.
It stopped moving.
The first twitched once.
Then collapsed.
All three machines began to melt.
Synthetic flesh dissolved into silver runoff, disguises failing completely as they collapsed inward, puddling uselessly at the base of the walls.
Bella stared at the remains, face pale. “What… is she?”
The woman stood alone in the hallway, breathing steady, power already receding like a tide pulling back from shore. She glanced once at the sealed air where the portal had been.
Scuffed marble. Cracked stone. Shattered objects.
But the hall still stood.
Demetri felt something settle in his chest.
Not threat.
Not fear.
Interest.
Mate recognition. Protective instinct.
“She could have brought the ceiling down,” Felix said slowly.
“She chose not to,” Demetri replied.
Edward watched the woman wipe her hands on her jacket, eyes sharp and unbothered.
“She’s dangerous,” he said.
Demetri smiled, eyes never leaving her.
“Yes,” he agreed softly.
“And she knows exactly how much. And I—” he admitted to himself quietly, “I will keep her safe.”
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[Demetri's POV]
She didn’t turn right away.
Demetri noticed that first.
Most intruders—most beings—reacted to silence. They searched for the next threat, the next command, the inevitable punishment. This woman did none of that. She stood where she was, shoulders settling, breath evening out, awareness still outward rather than behind her.
She trusted her senses.
Or she trusted herself.
Interesting.
Silver residue cooled on the marble floor, faint heat ghosting against Demetri’s skin as he stepped forward. Every movement she makes is mine to track. Every pause, every glance, every calculated breath. Mine to guard.
Her head turned anyway.
Not toward Felix.
Not toward Edward’s rigid stance or the human clinging uselessly to his arm.
Straight to Demetri.
Their eyes met.
The bond flared stronger. Connection. Protection. Recognition. Mine.
“Well,” Demetri said lightly, breaking the silence before Edward could ruin it, “you’ve caused quite the disruption.”
Demetri’s gaze never left her. Every micro-movement she made, every shift of weight, every blink, told him more than words ever could. He could feel her pulse, steady, deliberate. Not fear. Not hesitation. Confidence. A woman who moved with awareness, and with power he couldn’t touch—but wanted to protect anyway.
“The Chronicoms started it,” she said. Flat. Certain.
Edward bristled. “Those weren’t ours.”
She glanced at him—just once—and dismissed him completely. Demetri felt the bond tighten like a leash. She doesn’t need him. She doesn’t need anyone—except me.
“I figured,” she replied, “you don’t feel like the type to build robots that pretend to be people.”
Bella made a small, offended sound.
Demetri ignored it. His attention was absolute. Tracking. Protecting.
“What are you?” Edward demanded.
The woman’s jaw tightened. Not anger. Memory.
“Someone who doesn’t like being chased through holes in reality,” she said. “And someone who doesn’t appreciate being watched like I’m the problem.”
Her weight shifted subtly to her back foot. Demetri recognized the signal instantly. Not defensive. Ready. Aware. My mate.
Felix crossed his arms. “You shattered a Volturi corridor.”
She met his gaze evenly. “You’ll notice it’s still standing.”
It was.
Demetri had already mapped the damage—angles, force, restraint. She could have collapsed the ceiling. She didn’t. Every strike had been measured. Controlled. Like she always knows what she can and cannot break. Like she’s aware of the environment, and her own limits. Like she’s aware of me.
“You knew where not to hit,” Demetri said quietly.
Her eyes flicked back to him. “I don’t destroy buildings I’m standing in.”
Edward scoffed. “That’s supposed to reassure us?”
Demetri lifted a hand slightly. Edward stilled—not because he had to, but because something in Demetri’s tone warned him.
“She didn’t kill indiscriminately,” Demetri said. His chest hummed with something deeper than observation. Desire. Need. Protective instinct flaring.
The woman snorted softly. “Neutralized. That’s generous.”
“What were they?” Bella asked, voice small.
“Sentient Chronicoms,” the woman replied without looking at her. “Anthropologists. Hunters. Depends on the day. They come from a planet that revolved around a star in the constellation you know as Cygnus.”
Edward frowned. Bella’s eyes widened.
Felix frowned. “They followed you for what purpose?”
“Their homeworld was destroyed,” Daisy continued. “So now they’re trying to establish Chronyca-3 as a replacement.”
She paused, letting that land.
“Here,” she added, tapping a knuckle lightly against the stone wall beside her, “on Earth.”
Demetri’s tracking senses flared. Her finger on the wall—a light tap—sent ripples of force, and he could feel them. Not dangerous. Controlled. Calibrated. Every move deliberate. Every move mine to watch. Mine to guard.
He circled slowly, not closing distance, not retreating. Every shift she makes, my senses follow. Her pulse, her breaths, her attention—threads I am keyed into.
Her heartbeat was steady now. Not adrenaline. Control.
“You landed in the heart of Volturi territory,” Demetri said. “Most don’t survive the introduction.”
She shrugged slightly. “I'm stronger than you know.”
Felix exhaled sharply, almost a laugh.
Edward scowled. “You’re dangerous.”
She finally looked at him again, expression cool, assessing. “So are you. I can tell you’re not human.”
Bella stiffened.
Demetri felt the bond thrum beneath his skin. Protective. Immediate. I must keep her safe.
“The difference,” Daisy continued, tone calm but edged with warning, “is that I didn’t come here looking for a fight. I landed here because something else dragged me through a portal.”
Silence followed.
Demetri felt the tension spike—and noted that she didn’t press the advantage. She wasn’t asserting dominance. She wasn’t posturing. She was drawing a boundary. A tracker, and now a mate, recognized that instinct immediately.
“What’s your name?” Demetri asked.
She hesitated. Just long enough.
“Daisy Johnson,” she said. “Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Demetri smiled. “Demetri.” His chest tightened—need, protection, connection all flaring in one instant. She is mine. I know her, I know her pulse, I know her heart. She is mine.
“You the welcoming committee?”
“Something like that.”
Her gaze flicked past him, measuring exits, distances, sightlines. She wasn’t planning violence—but she was mapping survival. Good. I am here. I will protect her. I will follow her. She is mine.
Alice blinked, head tilting slightly, curiosity cutting through the tension. “S.H.I.E.L.D.?” she asked. “What is that?”
Daisy glanced at her—really looked this time. Not a threat assessment. Not a calculation. A recognition. Acknowledgment. She sees you, yes—but she also sees me.
“It stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” she replied. “It’s a government agency.”
Edward scoffed quietly. “Humans.”
Daisy’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. Turns out we don’t like being invaded.”
Demetri watched Alice closely. Her future-sight threads had flared and frayed during the fight. He could feel the slight unease in Daisy’s energy that Alice’s vision caused. He shifted, a subtle protective movement, closing just slightly—not intrusively, but ready.
“And your agency,” Demetri said, voice smooth, low, tuned to her presence, “deals with beings like the ones we just saw?”
“With aliens, enhanced individuals, and anything that decides Earth is an easy target,” Daisy answered. “Chronicoms are just today’s problem.”
Alice frowned. “I couldn’t see you.”
Daisy shrugged lightly. “Not the first psychic I’ve confused.”
Demetri smiled faintly. Exactly why she’s dangerous. And exactly why she belongs here, in this hall, with me watching, guarding.
“Let me guess,” Daisy said, a trace of humor lifting her expression, “you’re about to decide whether I’m a guest or a problem.”
Demetri stopped circling. Met her eyes fully. Pulse. Breath. Awareness. Mine to guard.
“I already decided,” he said. And the decision is not about threat. It’s about her. Protecting her. Watching her. Being near her.
She raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“You’re neither.”
Her attention sharpened. Curious. Intrigued. Not fearful.
“You’re a variable.”
Felix grunted. “That’s not comforting.”
Demetri didn’t look away from her. “It’s honest. And it’s protective.”
Daisy considered him for a long moment. Then she exhaled, tension bleeding from her shoulders.
“Fine,” she said. “Then let’s skip the posturing. I don’t want to be here. You probably don’t want my enemies showing up again.”
Edward stiffened. “Again?”
Daisy’s mouth twitched. “Portal tech doesn’t usually stop with one try.”
Demetri felt something settle into place. A chase. A hunt. Not for her. With her. And I will be there, with her, for her.
“Then,” he said smoothly, voice low and resonant, every syllable layered with instinct, need, and calm command, “it seems we have a mutual interest.”
She studied him, eyes narrowing slightly—not distrustful. Curious.
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “Seems like it.”
Demetri smiled. And for the first time in centuries, tracking doesn’t feel like duty.
It feels like anticipation.
Protection. Connection. Bond.
Mine.