Page 25 of Saving Her Dragon

Nodding as he looked at both of them, he continued, "Runs on an independent battery loop. Saves everything straight to a local memory card. No backup network required.”

Garrett picked up the box, a wave of profound gratitude washing over him. "Thanks, Carrick. I really appreciate it."

Ten minutes later, after reading the instructions, Garrett was upstairs in the bedroom, stepping onto a chair to mount the small black lens into the far corner of the ceiling molding. He adjusted the angle with practiced, military precision, ensuring the frame captured the entire bed, the bedroom door, the nightstand, and the path to the hallway.

Stepping down, he synced the feed to the app he’d downloaded onto his phone. Watching the clear, crisp digital image of the room lock into place, he used his enhanced vision to examine every detail. For the first time since the mud had appeared on his boots, he felt a genuine sense of control return. He finally had a weapon against the missing time.

He would collect irrefutable evidence. He would get the answers he needed– the answers everyone needed.

If his body rose again during the night, the lens would catch every single movement. There would be no more guessing, no more comforting theories, and no more holes in the dark. If he got up, they would finally know exactly what he did.

Over the next four days, the ranch slipped into a beautiful, normal rhythm. Garrett’s world slowly stopped being measured in hours of missing time and began being measured in times of peace.

The first morning after installing the camera, the recording showed eight hours of undisturbed, motionless sleep. On night two, the camera feed captured nothing but the quiet rise and fall of the blankets and the sounds of crickets flirting in the moonlight. The third night was much the same—total silence. No caked clay on his boots and no mysterious writing in his notebook.

With every clean morning, the heavy atmosphere began to melt away. Sydney stopped searching his face for shadows when he woke up. Grey stopped appearing at sunrise and hovering around their cottage as they made plans for the day.

Even Han had grudgingly accepted that trauma remained the most logical explanation. Everyone decided the glitch was exactly what they had hoped: a final, chaotic aftershock of a healing mind.

As the mystery receded, Garrett’s wellbeing skyrocketed. His physical strength returned in leaps and bounds, but it was his mind that gave him the greatest victories.

One afternoon, while working in the yard, a sudden, vivid image burst into his mind out of nowhere. He let out a sudden, roaring laugh that brought his brother to a halt.

"What?" Grey asked, eyebrow raised.

"You cut your own hair," Garrett gasped, wiping a tear from his eye as the memory locked into place with absolute clarity. "You were twelve. You made such a horrific mess of it that Mom had to shave your head. She was furious because she’d warned you three times to put the scissors down." Bending at the waist and gasping to catch his breath, he looked up and added with a wheeze, "And the other kids had so much fun teasing you. It was hilarious. Your cheeks were bright red when Shelley Keller, the girl you had a crush on, laughed and pointed, then ran off with her girlfriends."

Grey groaned, rubbing his temple. "I’d forgotten about that. Thanks for the reminder, little brother."

“No problem,” he chuckled. “Isn’t that what little brothers are for?”

“Yeah, that and being a good punching bag.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it, alright,” Grey grunted before giving in to a smile and a laugh.

Later, during a tactical briefing, Carrick casually mentioned an old defensive maneuver he wanted to try along the southern border. Before he could even pull up the file, Garrett rattled off the exact sequence of defensive shifts, flanking positions, and retreat coordinates.

His life wasn’t just coming back– it was locking into place with military precision. The look on Carrick and Grey’s faces said they saw it too, and that filled Garrett with more than a little pride.

And the greatest reward of all wasn’t the strength or the memories—it was Sydney. The dark mystery of his memory and his nighttime maneuvers had threatened to consume them, but with things looking up, the open Texas sun belonged entirely to their love.

By the fourth afternoon, they slipped away from the hustle and bustle to steal a little alone time. Sydney had packed a small picnic basket, and they walked deep into the northern pasture, far away from Dragon Guard business and family responsibilities. They spread a soft flannel blanket beneath the shade of a massive, sprawling pecan tree and simply enjoyed being together.

After eating, Garrett lay back on the blanket, pulling Sydney tightly against his chest. She effortlessly curled into his side, her blond curls spilling across his shoulder as the warm summer breeze rustled the leaves above them. They cuddled together, their fingers intertwined, talking quietly about a future that finally felt real. They spoke of rebuilding, of quiet nights, of the family they would raise together, and of the official Mating Ceremony he wanted them to have– with the whole Clan in attendance.

They were fiercely Bonded and desperately, unreservedly in love. The only thing missing was Sydney wearing the Mating Mark, and that would be coming very soon. Shifting slightly, Garrett caught Sydney staring up at him with a soft, intensely focused expression in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, a lazy, contented smile tugging at his lips.

"Nothing," she murmured, tracing a light circle over his chest.

"I was admiring," she corrected, her eyes flashing with a playful, affectionate spark.

"Completely."

Garrett didn't argue. He simply let out a low, rough rumble of agreement, his large hand sliding into her hair as he rolled over, anchoring her beneath him on the blanket.