Page 202 of Beasts of Mine

“I've been awake before seven almost every day for six weeks.” I reminded Mara as I watched another backup finish copying and safely ejected the drive, waiting for the confirmation before I pulled the cable free.

“Being awake and being ready to load every case are different things.” Mara replied as she picked up my shot list and looked over the marks covering almost every line.

“That is unfortunately true.” I admitted to Mara as I reached for the next drive and connected it to the laptop, the familiar little chime sounding from the speakers a second later. Mara didn't immediately return to the logistics sheet. She skimmed the shot list one more time, then laid it flat beside my notebook and ran one finger down the final section.

“How do you feel about finishing?” Mara asked me as she rested one hip against the neighboring table, her voice losing the dry amusement she'd been using seconds before.

“About the work?” I asked Mara as I sat back and looked at the rows of completed folders on the screen.

“About all of it.” Mara clarified as she folded her arms loosely, leaving the question open instead of trying to guess what answer I should give her.

I looked around the station while I thought about it. My rain jacket still hung from the back of another chair, but most of the gear that had made the room feel temporarily mine was packed. A damp pair of socks I'd washed that morning hung near the screened window. My route map still had pencil marks along the edges, and there was a faint coffee ring near the corner of the table from a cup I'd forgotten there sometime during the first week.

Six weeks wasn't a long assignment, but it had been enough time for the station, the routes, Mara's bad coffee, and even the uneven click of the ceiling fan to become familiar.

“I'm proud of the work.” I told Mara as I glanced at the shot list in her hand. “There are a few frames I'll probably complain about for the next year because apparently that's my personality, but I got what I came here for. More than I expected, actually.”

“You did good work.” Mara told me as she looked down at the list and tapped the finished river section with one finger. “You also didn't make me organize a search party, which I appreciate.”

“I'm glad my professional standards continue to impress.” I told Mara as I smiled, appreciating the compliment beneath her practical delivery. Mara watched me for another moment rather than immediately reaching for the next joke.

“And the leaving part?” Mara asked as she put the shot list back down, her expression making it clear she'd noticed exactly what I'd avoided answering.

“Messier.” I admitted to Mara as I turned my chair slightly toward her and rested one forearm along the edge of the table. “I usually like this part. Pack everything, know the job is done, go home, move on to whatever comes next. I'm still excited about Patagonia. I just don't feel as ready to leave here as I normally would.”

“Your mysterious cat friends?” Mara asked as one corner of her mouth lifted, though she didn't keep teasing when I glanced toward the window. The forest beyond the screen looked exactly as it had most afternoons—thick green leaves, shifting branches, bright pieces of sky visible through gaps in the canopy. Somewhere beyond all of it were the ruins, the worktable Luca had moved, the shelf that now held a dark stone, and three men who knew exactly which morning I was leaving.

“Something like that.” I answered Mara as the trees beyond the glass shifted in a warm afternoon breeze.

Mara nodded slowly.

“Well, I don't know enough about your cat situation to give useful advice, and I'm not going to pretend I do.” Mara told me as she straightened and picked up the departure sheet again. “You can be happy the job is finished and still not want to leave everything connected to it.”

“That sounds suspiciously reasonable.” I told Mara as I looked back at her, appreciating that she hadn't tried to turn a few weeks of shared bad coffee into expertise about my entire life.

“Don't get used to it.” Mara replied as she gave me a brief smile before tapping the logistics sheet again. “Thursday. Before seven. Cases labeled tonight if you can.”

“Those I can handle.” I assured Mara as I reached for my notebook and added the case labels to the remaining list.

The assignment had gone better than I'd hoped. I'd taken photographs I was proud of, made a professional contact that had already turned into another major job, and somehow discovered a hidden leopard-shifter world while I was supposed to be documenting rainforest wildlife.

I wasn't upset that the work was nearly finished. I simply didn't want finishing it to mean losing everything else I'd found here.

The night I finally told the men I loved them, I wasn't planning to do it.

There was no danger, no emotional discussion about Patagonia, and no carefully chosen moment. Rain had started again sometime after dinner, soft enough that it made a steady patter beyond the shutters without blowing into the room. I was at the temple worktable reviewing one of the final image folders while Luca repaired a small tear inside my field pouch beside me. Malek stood behind my chair with a comb, patiently working through the lower half of my hair after I'd complained that the humidity had made my fingers useless against the tangles.

Tavian was eating dried fruit Luca had specifically told him to leave alone.

“Those are for tomorrow.” Luca reminded Tavian as he looked up from the pouch, his attention dropping toward the piece halfway to Tavian's mouth while his fingers remained inside the torn seam.

“I know.” Tavian replied as he bit into it anyway, apparently seeing no reason that knowing something should affect his behavior.

“You knowing makes it worse. Give me the bag.” Luca told Tavian as he set the pouch down and extended one hand across the table, patient irritation settling across his face.

“No.” Tavian answered as he pulled the bag against his chest, his amber eyes widening with completely unconvincing innocence. Malek's comb stopped in my hair.

“Give him the bag.” Malek told Tavian in a normal voice, the dry warning in his tone making me glance up from my laptop while his free hand remained lightly against my shoulder.