#Cattle Tracking System

[kishorxox]

Livestock Monitoring Market to be Worth $3.6 Billion by 2032

Meticulous Research®—a leading global market research company, published a research report titled, ‘Livestock Monitoring Market by Offering (Hardware, Software, Services), Animal Type (Cattle, Poultry, Swine, Others), Deployment Mode, Application (Milk Harvesting, Breeding Management, Others), Technology, Geography - Global Forecasts to 2032.’

According to this latest publication from Meticulous Research®, the livestock monitoring market is projected to reach $3.6 billion by 2032, at a CAGR of 12.1% from 2025 to 2032. Some of the major factors driving the growth of this market are the increasing adoption of livestock monitoring for early disease detection, and the rising number of dairy, poultry and swine farms. In addition, the growing adoption of IoT and AI in livestock monitoring provides market growth opportunities. However, the high cost of livestock monitoring solutions and the lack of understanding of technology among farmers can restrain the growth of this market.

The livestock monitoring market is segmented by offering, animal type, deployment mode, application and technology. The study also evaluates industry competitors and analyzes the regional and country-level markets.

Based on offering, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into hardware, software, and services. In 2025, the software segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of the segment is attributed to the growing amount of data generated from sensors, RFID tags, neck collars, and surveillance cameras to track & monitor the health of livestock and keep a check on their farm animals, manage herds in remote locations, customize diet and care, and reduce livestock theft in real-time.

Based on animal type, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into cattle, poultry, swine, equine and other animal types. In 2025, the cattle segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of this segment is attributed to the increase in the consumption of dairy products. According to the OECD (France), the world's per capita consumption of fresh dairy products is projected to increase by 1.0% p.a. over the next decade. In addition, the growing need to ensure the safety and quality of these products and the prevention of disease transmission are the drivers for market growth. However, the poultry segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on deployment mode, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into on-premise and cloud-based deployments. In 2025, the on-premise segment is expected to account for the larger share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large market share of this segment is attributed to a high preference for on-premise livestock monitoring devices among large enterprises, security issues associated with cloud deployments, and the availability of trained IT professionals & infrastructure. However, the cloud-based segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on application, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into milk harvesting, breeding management, feeding management, animal health monitoring & comfort, heat stress, behavior monitoring and other applications. In 2025, the feeding management segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The need for continuous access to water and feed and for keeping animals' living areas clean is increasing. Proper feeding and manure handling are vital for veterinary health, comfort, and well-being, but also for reducing disease, illness, and parasites. However, the milk harvesting segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on technology, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into IoT, artificial intelligence, big data analytics, GPS, and other technologies. In 2025, the IoT segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of the segment is attributed to the rising need to monitor the health and vitality of livestock in real-time, enabling farmers to quickly treat animals and prevent the spread of disease, monitor grazing patterns and nutritional changes, track grazing animals, gather and analyze historical data to identify trends in cattle health, optimizing breeding practices. However, the segment is also expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on geography, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into North America, Asia-Pacific, Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East & Africa. In 2025, North America is expected to account for the largest share of the livestock monitoring market. The large segment share is attributed to the rising consumption of meat. According to the data published by Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, in 2021, it has been estimated that 48,602 kt cwe meat will be consumed by 2032 in North America, accounting for 44,949 kt cwe in the U.S. and 3,653 cwe in Canada.

According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (UNFAO), the U.S. is the world's largest producer of chicken meat, producing 20.4 million metric tons of broiler meat in 2021. In addition, the prevalence of zoonotic diseases has fueled the demand for technology to monitor sick animals, which is anticipated to drive the North American market. However, Asia-Pacific is slated to register the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Key Players:

The key players operating in the livestock monitoring market are GEA Group Aktiengesellschaft (Germany), Afimilk Ltd. (Israel), a subsidiary of Kibbutz Afikim - Agricultural Cooperative Society Ltd. (Israel), DeLaval (Sweden), a subsidiary of Tetra Laval (Switzerland), Sensaphone (U.S.), BouMatic (U.S.), DAIRYMASTER (Ireland), Lely (Netherlands), Fancom BV (Netherlands), Fullwood JOZ Ltd (U.K.), Communications Group Lethbridge (Canada), Merck & Co., Inc. (U.S.), HID Global Corporation (U.S.), Hokofarm Group (Netherlands), Nedap Livestock Management (Netherlands), ENGS Systems (Israel), CowManager B.V. (Netherlands), HerdInsights (Ireland), and Zoetis Inc. (U.S.).

Download Sample Report Here @ https://www.meticulousresearch.com/download-sample-report/cp_id=5530

Key questions answered in the report-

Which are the high-growth market segments based on offering, animal type, deployment mode, application, and technology?

What was the historical market for livestock monitoring solutions?

What are the market forecasts and estimates for the period 2025–2032?

What are the livestock monitoring market's major drivers, restraints, and opportunities?

Who are the major players, and what shares do they hold in the livestock monitoring market?

How is the competitive landscape in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the recent developments in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the different strategies adopted by the major players in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the key geographic trends, and which are the high-growth countries?

Who are the local emerging players in the global livestock monitoring market, and how do they compete with the other players?

Contact Us: Meticulous Research® Email- sales@meticulousresearch.com Contact Sales- +1-646-781-8004 Connect with us on LinkedIn- https://www.linkedin.com/company/meticulous-research

[julie-su]

I am so tired today. I only ended up getting about 5 hours of sleep. Upstairs neighbour had their tunes blasting at 1-2am so loud that I could work out the lyrics. I don't want to file a complaint, because I don't want them to have a mark put on their permanent record because then it's hard to ever find a place to rent, and like, it's not that serious. But it's still infuriating, like, Dude. Come on. Why are you blasting your music without headphones right above my bedroom at 2 in the morning. Guy's been playing his music super loud at 2am for months now, but there is something so especially egregious about playing it so loud that I can't even form a thought. The levels of the building are locked to only that floors' occupants, so I can't voice my displeasure in any way other than thumping the ceiling, which evidently does not work, as aforementionedly, it's so goddamned loud. I don't know. I'll probably just take it until the end of our lease in two or so months, because as I said, it would freaking suck to have a permanent mark on your record like that, and I'm sure it's just a student who doesn't have the spatial awareness of what 'loud' is, and what time people go to bed. It's never as vitriolic or antagonistic as somebody might think. It's 9/10 times just 'shiiiiit. Did not think about that. My bad dude'

But still, second cup of coffee, I am tired and grouchy. I almost let my lunch burn on the stove because I was staring off into the middle distance attempting to form a thought. Rant rant rant, rave rave rave.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Amy Maxmen at KFF Health News:

Keith Poulsen’s jaw dropped when farmers showed him images on their cellphones at the World Dairy Expo in Wisconsin in October. A livestock veterinarian at the University of Wisconsin, Poulsen had seen sick cows before, with their noses dripping and udders slack. But the scale of the farmers’ efforts to treat the sick cows stunned him. They showed videos of systems they built to hydrate hundreds of cattle at once. In 14-hour shifts, dairy workers pumped gallons of electrolyte-rich fluids into ailing cows through metal tubes inserted into the esophagus. “It was like watching a field hospital on an active battlefront treating hundreds of wounded soldiers,” he said. Nearly a year into the first outbreak of the bird flu among cattle, the virus shows no sign of slowing. The U.S. government failed to eliminate the virus on dairy farms when it was confined to a handful of states, by quickly identifying infected cows and taking measures to keep their infections from spreading. Now at least 875 herds across 16 states have tested positive.

Experts say they have lost faith in the government’s ability to contain the outbreak. “We are in a terrible situation and going into a worse situation,” said Angela Rasmussen, a virologist at the University of Saskatchewan in Canada. “I don’t know if the bird flu will become a pandemic, but if it does, we are screwed.” To understand how the bird flu got out of hand, KFF Health News interviewed nearly 70 government officials, farmers and farmworkers, and researchers with expertise in virology, pandemics, veterinary medicine, and more. Together with emails obtained from local health departments through public records requests, this investigation revealed key problems, including deference to the farm industry, eroded public health budgets, neglect for the safety of agriculture workers, and the sluggish pace of federal interventions. Case in point: The U.S. Department of Agriculture this month announced a federal order to test milk nationwide. Researchers welcomed the news but said it should have happened months ago — before the virus was so entrenched.

“It’s disheartening to see so many of the same failures that emerged during the covid-19 crisis reemerge,” said Tom Bollyky, director of the Global Health Program at the Council on Foreign Relations. Far more bird flu damage is inevitable, but the extent of it will be left to the Trump administration and Mother Nature. Already, the USDA has funneled more than $1.7 billion into tamping down the bird flu on poultry farms since 2022, which includes reimbursing farmers who’ve had to cull their flocks, and more than $430 million into combating the bird flu on dairy farms. In coming years, the bird flu may cost billions of dollars more in expenses and losses. Dairy industry experts say the virus kills roughly 2% to 5% of infected dairy cows and reduces a herd’s milk production by about 20%. Worse, the outbreak poses the threat of a pandemic. More than 60 people in the U.S. have been infected, mainly by cows or poultry, but cases could skyrocket if the virus evolves to spread efficiently from person to person. And the recent news of a person critically ill in Louisiana with the bird flu shows that the virus can be dangerous.

Just a few mutations could allow the bird flu to spread between people. Because viruses mutate within human and animal bodies, each infection is like a pull of a slot machine lever. “Even if there’s only a 5% chance of a bird flu pandemic happening, we’re talking about a pandemic that probably looks like 2020 or worse,” said Tom Peacock, a bird flu researcher at the Pirbright Institute in the United Kingdom, referring to covid. “The U.S. knows the risk but hasn’t done anything to slow this down,” he added. Beyond the bird flu, the federal government’s handling of the outbreak reveals cracks in the U.S. health security system that would allow other risky new pathogens to take root. “This virus may not be the one that takes off,” said Maria Van Kerkhove, director of the emerging diseases group at the World Health Organization. “But this is a real fire exercise right now, and it demonstrates what needs to be improved.”

[...] Curtailing the virus on farms is the best way to prevent human infections, said Jennifer Nuzzo, director of the Pandemic Center at Brown University, but human surveillance must be stepped up, too. Every clinic serving communities where farmworkers live should have easy access to bird flu tests — and be encouraged to use them. Funds for farmworker outreach must be boosted. And, she added, the CDC should change its position and offer farmworkers bird flu vaccines to protect them and ward off the chance of a hybrid bird flu that spreads quickly. The rising number of cases not linked to farms signals a need for more testing in general. When patients are positive on a general flu test — a common diagnostic that indicates human, swine, or bird flu — clinics should probe more deeply, Nuzzo said. The alternative is a wait-and-see approach in which the nation responds only after enormous damage to lives or businesses. This tack tends to rely on mass vaccination. But an effort analogous to Trump’s Operation Warp Speed is not assured, and neither is rollout like that for the first covid shots, given a rise in vaccine skepticism among Republican lawmakers.

KFF Health News reports on how America lost control on containing the bird flu that could set the stage for another pandemic. If we see another COVID-level or even Ebola-level pandemic, America will be in for a world of hurt, thanks to the rise of anti-public health sentiments.

See Also:

CNN: How America lost control of the bird flu, setting the stage for another pandemic

[dnightshade0]

Voltron: another plothole found! Ownership of Kaltenecker the cow!

Ok ok ok hear me out!

Kaltenecker is a cow that team voltron got from the alien who owns the human item store at the space mall.

If you’ll notice, Kaltenecker has a brand on her indicating that she is owned by the person that brand belongs to.

Typically cattle ranchers brand their cows to show that those cows belong to them, just in case that cow happens to wander into another cattle rancher’s pasture and get mixed in with their cows. The brand keeps ranchers from claiming ownership over cows that aren’t theirs.

Kaltenecker came from earth. Which means she had to have belonged to a cattle rancher before she came to be owned by that alien shopkeeper.

Later on in the series team Voltron return to earth and at the end of the series, Kaltenecker lives on lance’s family farm.

Kaltenecker was stolen from the original owner by the alien shopkeeper. That shopkeeper gave Kaltenecker away to lance and pidge free with their purchase of the game system. Now Lance is the owner of a stolen cow.

If the original owner of Kaltenecker happens to notice that brand and confronts Lance’s family on the cow. Will Lance and his family have to return Kaltenecker to her original owner?

What is the rules of ownership when it comes to stolen property?

Is the original owner even still alive after the galra invasion?

Does Lance have to give back the cow?

Who is the rightful owner of Kaltenecker?

If I know anything about the law when it comes to stolen property, chances are, Lance will have to give back the cow.

If that is the case, Lance and his family might get accused of stealing the cow or be charged with possession of stolen property.

To avoid this problem, they could try to track down the owner, talk to them and explain what actually happened and then offer to buy Kaltenecker from them. That way there is no issues, no lawsuits, no criminal charges. Everyone is happy.

What do you all think?

[mebis-art-dump]

How do you think time is measured in Hallownest? Would it operate under the system we have IRL (24 hours a day 365 days a year), or would it operate under its own unique system centred around something specific like a harvest or planting season?

Time is purposefully kept vague in the text of the game, with only mentions of ages (and years by the Hunter)

Mentions of astral objects are purposefully avoided (this was something Team Cherry openly requested when fangamer's Wanderer's Journal (official lore book from the point of view of a bug visiting the kingdom) was written); Mr Mushroom mentions the moon but he's an outlier doing metatextual references

Coincidentally, he also heralds an age's end, so you could theoretically use him as point of reference for that, but the scale is too big to be useful and is more of an "end of times" marker, likely not widely known either

(end of times from the point of view of someone living within a kingdom that is falling over, think a Roman experiencing the end of the Roman empire as the end of the world)

(or maybe like the end of an ancient calendar, end of an era)

So yeah, it's unlikely that it is the same as ours (which while originally used to keep track of crop and harvest seasons, was calibrated through astral objects)

It could be based on harvesting times (or even mating seasons if they had cattle that underwent such cycles), that'd make sense

They also had to sleep at some point, but then the question is which would dictate the other, if they'd make a "work day" around their sleep time, or if they'd schedule their sleep around their duties and routines

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes On Me - Chapter 29

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The meeting room inside Toto's private suite was sleek, dark-wooded and ice-cold with aircon. The blinds were pulled. The paddock noise was a low hum through glass.

Toto stood at the head of the long table. Susie sat to his right. Lewis leaned against the wall with his arms folded, jaw tight.

Around the table, every team principal had taken a seat.

Christian Horner. Fred Vasseur. Zak Brown. Andrea Stella. Guenther Steiner. Franz Tost. Mike Krack. Flavio Briatore. Alessandro Bravi. James Vowles.

All looking vaguely curious. Cautious. All pretending this was just another strategy call. It wasn't.

Toto started simply. "Thanks for coming. This isn't a media meeting, or a campaign review. This is... something else." He looked down. Then up. "I've asked you here because something's wrong. And it's not on-track. It's them. The girls."

That made a few brows twitch. Christian tilted his head. Fred's smile faded. Guenther sat forward.

Susie spoke next. "This morning," she said calmly, "I spent nearly two hours with the models. I watched their prep. Their fittings. Their 'routine.' And what I saw... was not routine." The silence thickened. "They were weighed one by one," she continued. "Out loud. Like cattle. Martha is thirty-seven point eight kilograms. They celebrated it."

Fred's lips parted. James frowned, glancing down. Flavio scoffed softly, but didn't speak.

"They took medication on napkins," Susie added. "Five different girls. Martha was injected with somethingd. No privacy. No hesitation. Just part of the system."

Toto took over again. His voice was even, but his fingers curled slightly against the table.

"Paul, the man managing their meds, said to my wife that a child shouldn't be present for an injection. That means he knew what he was doing wasn't right."

Zak leaned forward. "So... what are we saying here? That they're being drugged?"

Toto shook his head. "We don't know. That's the problem."

Susie added, "We can't prove the pills weren't vitamins. We can't prove the injection wasn't B12. But we can say that none of the girls flinched. None of them asked what they were being given. And they weren't monitored. Just handed pills and told to take them."

Christian's jaw ticked. "You still think this goes deeper than just makeup and management?"

"I know it does," Susie said. "But without proof, we can't file formal reports."

Mike Krack looked around. "So what do you want from us?"

Toto looked each man in the eye. "We want you to speak to them. One-on-one. In your garages. In your hospitality spaces. Wherever they feel least observed. Just talk. Ask questions. Not about hair and makeup. About them."

Andrea Stella frowned. "You think they'll answer?"

Susie met his eyes.

"I think if you ask right," she said quietly, "you'll hear what they're not saying."

Guenther swore under his breath. "Fucking hell."

Fred rubbed a hand over his face. "So we're doing this now?"

Toto nodded. "Today. Before qualifying."

Lewis finally spoke, low, from his spot against the wall. "We can't ignore it anymore."

No one argued. Because they knew. Deep down, they all knew. Even if they hadn't seen what Susie saw. Even if they didn't want to admit it. The girls weren't just working. They were surviving. And now? It was time to listen.

Christian leaned forward slightly, hands folded, voice quieter now.

"You said you spent two hours with them," he said. "No cameras. No PR. What were they like? In the dressing room?"

Susie turned to him fully, not cold, not confrontational. Just composed. "They were barefoot. No heels. No stylists fussing around. They were in sweatpants and tank tops, sitting on bean bags with two empty bottles of champagne on the table, a speaker blasting music, and their shoulders down." She looked at each man in the room. "They were relaxed. Not careless. Not messy. Just off-duty. No filters. No press smiles. That's when I saw who they actually are."

Zak asked, "And who are they?"

Susie didn't hesitate. "Loud. Funny. Sharp. Wickedly sarcastic. The kind of girls who insult you and hand you a drink at the same time."

A faint chuckle flickered across the table. She didn't join it. "But underneath all of that? They're exhausted. They just don't show it the way most people do."

Toto's jaw flexed as he watched her.

"Barbara and Martha sat on the floor with Jack," she continued. "He crawled straight into Martha's lap like he belonged there. She wrapped her arm around him like it was instinct."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "And she didn't mind?"

"She loved it," Susie said. "Both of them did. Barbara was matching his dinosaur noises. Martha was styling his hair and calling it editorial prep." Her voice softened, just slightly. "He sat in Martha's lap for thirty minutes without moving. And when Toto tried to take him back, Jack refused. Said he wanted to stay with the girls." No one spoke. Then Susie added, "They made him feel safe."

Christian leaned back now, no smirk, no wit. Just tension behind his eyes. "They're good at this," he said quietly. "Too good."

"They're surviving," Susie replied. "And they've built a language around it. A performance. You wouldn't know anything's wrong unless you already knew what to look for."

Toto's voice cut in. "That's why we're asking each of you to talk to them one-on-one. Watch for what they don't say."

James Vowles looked up. "And what if they don't crack?"

Susie held his gaze. "Then you keep asking. Until they stop smiling through it."

The silence settled for a beat after Susie's final words. Then Fred leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers tapping.

"I'll talk to Barbara," he said. "She's been mostly with us and Haas. She's quieter than the others, in public, anyway. But when she walks into the Ferrari garage? She... lights up. She's sharp. But she watches everyone before she speaks."

Guenther grunted in agreement. "She's not dramatic. She's the one that notices shit no one else does. She also hides it better than any of them."

Toto nodded. "She's dangerous in the sense that she'll break last."

Fred's jaw tightened. "And that means we need to talk to her first."

Andrea Stella spoke next.

"I'll take Taylor. I know she's not with McLaren but she's been in Alpine and Aston Martin. I've seen her, she plays the game. Polite, controlled. But she's... overcompensating. You can tell when someone's being perfect on purpose."

Mike Krack nodded. "She doesn't breathe when she's around media. She poses in silence. Smiles without blinking. It's not calm. It's trained."

Andrea exhaled. "She's the type that won't admit anything because she doesn't even let herself admit it."

Lewis murmured, "She's scared of vulnerability. She's already been punished for it once, I can guarantee that."

Susie gave a small nod. "She laughed the least."

Zak tapped his pen once against the table. "Lila's been around McLaren with Martha," he said. "I'll speak to her. She's harder to read, half her reactions are sarcasm, and she's the only one who doesn't seem to be faking the chaos."

Christian added, "She's a wildcard. She'll give you nothing for twenty minutes, then say one sentence that burns the whole room down."

Zak nodded. "Exactly why I want to speak to her."

Fred added, "She watches the other girls constantly. She'll deflect, but she's protective. She'd cover for all of them without thinking."

Christian sat back, arms crossed. "And if she admits something? It means it's already worse than we think."

Allessandro cleared his throat. "Gigi's been most connected to Williams and Sauber. I'll speak to her."

James Vowles looked over. "I'd like to be there, too. I've seen her at the hospitality table, she always makes conversation, always laughing. But she avoids eye contact when you compliment her. Like she doesn't believe a word of it."

Flavio muttered, "She's a professional. I've never seen her slip once."

"That's the problem," Susie said. "She's too professional."

James nodded. "I think she knows what's happening. I think she's known longer than the rest. And I think she's tired of carrying it."

There was a long pause before anyone mentioned her. Then Christian said it. "Martha."

Every eye in the room shifted. The name didn't just carry weight. It carried everything.

Toto inhaled. "She's the centre of it. Always has been. She's in every room, every meeting. She's the face of the campaign. If something's wrong, she either knows about it, or she's the reason no one else does."

Susie added, "She's charming. Disarming. A master at redirection. And Jack adored her. She didn't flinch when he sat in her lap. She didn't break when she was injected. And when I asked her what it was, she lied without hesitation. But she smiled when she did it."

Christian leaned back. "She'll tell the truth. But not to someone she doesn't trust."

Toto looked at the table. "I'll speak to her."

No one argued. Because everyone knew: Martha was the one they'd all been watching. But she was the one watching them too.

Lewis finally spoke from the corner, voice low and clear. "They're not gonna hand you the truth like a confession," he said. "They're gonna joke. They're gonna smile. They'll say something that sounds fine, then pause for half a second. That's your in. That's where the real story is."

Susie nodded. "And if you get it, don't interrupt. Let them land it. They've never been allowed to speak freely before. If they open the door even a little, you don't slam it shut with concern. You listen."

Toto straightened. "We have until qualifying."

And then it was on. Quietly. Strategically. Deliberately. The team principals rose from their seats. No loud plans. No theatrics. Just unspoken urgency. They weren't waiting anymore. Today? They were going to listen.

* 

The drivers were scattered across their garages, hunched over monitors, murmuring with engineers. Quali was four hours away and the air was already thick with adrenaline and heat.

But in a tucked-away concrete building behind hospitality, the paddock gym was a war zone.

Five bodies on the floor. Five soaked sets of Victoria's Secret-branded sports bras and compression shorts. Five girls who looked like they'd been chewed up and spit out by an entire army. Mats crooked. Water bottles empty. Heart rates still punching at the inside of their ribs.

Gigi was flat on her back, hair soaked, one leg stretched up the wall. Barbara was face down, arms above her head like a corpse. Taylor lay curled on her side, breathing through her teeth. Lila had her hoodie over her face, dripping, silent. And Martha? Martha was splayed out in a full starfish, hair slicked to her neck, her chest rising like she'd been underwater. Dripping. Glowing. Ferociously perfect. And still, it wasn't enough.

Karen stood above them, arms folded, voice unbothered. "You'll need to push harder next time," she said, like they'd just taken a leisurely stroll.

Martha groaned, eyes still closed. "You're joking."

Karen's brow arched. "Not even a little."

Barbara, still on the floor, didn't lift her head, just raised her arm and gave a limp middle finger. "Kindly," she said, breathless, "just let us have a minute to die in peace."

Gigi wheezed a laugh. "Rest in glittery fucking pieces."

Taylor whispered, "I think I tore my soul."

Lila sighed, "Mine's on the treadmill still."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Drama queens."

No one moved. Martha muttered, "I might cry in the shower."

"You can cry in your assigned garages," Karen snapped, turning toward the lockers.

"Wow," Lila deadpanned. "Maternal energy."

Karen checked her watch. "Go shower, go change, and get into your branded garage outfits. No delays."

No one argued. They never did. Ten minutes later, they peeled themselves off the floor. Every muscle ached. Ribs stung. Legs buckled just slightly. But by the time they emerged from the locker room, they were already transforming.

Skin dewy. Hair scraped into sleek ponytails. VS cropped zip-ups and matching mini skirts. Lanyards around their necks. Weapons in human form.

Martha pulled her sunglasses down. "Where am I headed?"

"Mercedes," Karen answered.

Barbara adjusted her bra strap. "Ferrari?"

Karen nodded.

"Williams for me," Gigi said, swiping on gloss.

"Alpine," Taylor sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket.

Lila rolled her neck. "Red Bull. Let's party."

No one looked tired now. No one looked broken. They looked like icons. Because that's what they were trained to be.

*

The moment Lila stepped in, the energy shifted, and she knew it. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was sharp.

She'd traded her post-workout hoodie for a zip-up VS-branded cropped jacket, her miniskirt just a few sinful inches below, her legs long and shimmering, and her expression blank but perfect. One eyebrow was arched just slightly higher than the other, the signature Moss micro-expression that said: I don't care unless I'm paid to.

The engineers looked up and nodded. The cameras rolled. The social media intern got into position. And Christian Horner, from the edge of the garage, watched her enter like she was a puzzle he was sick of not being able to solve.

Yuki waved. "You survived the gym?"

Lila gave a lazy two-finger salute. "Barely. I left my soul on the squat rack."

Daniel grinned. "Looks like you left shame there too."

She smiled, thin and glittering. "That died in Paris, babe."

The mechanics chuckled. Christian didn't. He was already moving closer.

Lila walked toward the screen where the live feed from qualifying prep was playing. She stood beside an empty stool, one foot slightly in front of the other like she was always mid-editorial shoot. She didn't sit. She rarely did.

Christian stepped beside her a moment later, hands behind his back, voice just low enough to stay private. "You look good," he said.

She gave him a side glance. "Is that a compliment or an assessment?"

Christian smiled faintly. "Both."

Lila tilted her head, faux-sweet. "Flattered. And slightly threatened."

He let the silence hang just long enough before adding: "You holding up?"

Lila blinked. Slow. Controlled. Measured. Then she turned back to the screen, one shoulder rising in a shrug. "I'm always holding."

Christian studied her for a second. "Working out for three hours... then heading straight into a full day of content and qualifying. That's not normal."

"Neither are we," she said simply.

He waited. "You tired?"

Lila smiled. "I'm a Moss, darling. I was born exhausted."

He exhaled through his nose. "Lila-"

She turned fully toward him now, arms folding across her chest. "What do you want to know?"

Christian blinked. "Everything."

She raised a brow. "Everything's a lot."

"Then give me something."

She tapped her temple once. "Mental health's good."

He didn't move. She tapped her stomach. "No complaints."

Still. Finally, she tapped her chest. "Heart's busy."

He cocked his head.

Lila leaned in slightly. "And none of that is what you're actually asking me."

Christian's jaw ticked. "You're smart," he said.

She shrugged again.  "You don't survive this long by being stupid."

"You don't survive it at all by being honest."

Her smile cracked wider, too sharp. "Exactly." And then she turned back to the screen. Like the conversation had never happened. Like nothing had slipped.

But Christian? He saw the flicker. "Heart's busy." That wasn't nothing. That wasn't scripted. That was real. But Lila had already buried it beneath the next smirk.

*

Barbara stepped into the garage like she'd been born there. Red was her colour. Heat was her element. And silence? Was her weapon. Her VS cropped jacket was zipped just low enough to tease, and her ponytail was high, sleek, and untouched by the gym sweat that still clung faintly to her collarbones. She looked untouched. Untouchable.

The garage buzzed around her, engineers talking data, cameras blinking, Charles walking past with his fire suit half on.

And there, by the corner espresso machine, stood Fred Vasseur. A single espresso in one hand. No tablet. No briefing doc. Just him. Waiting.

Barbara saw him instantly. She smiled. Not too wide. Not too friendly. Just enough.

"Fred," she greeted smoothly. "Trying to bribe me with caffeine?"

He handed it to her. "Italian hospitality."

She took it like it was perfume, not coffee. "You know I'm Hungarian, right?"

"Then we both know how to survive fire."

She grinned, easy, bright, and unreadable.

Fred gestured to the bench beside the screen. "Come sit. Just want to talk before the madness starts."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Talk about what?"

"Nothing important," he said. "Just you."

Her smile didn't move, but something in her eyes shifted. Still, she sat. Crossed her legs. Sipped her espresso like it was champagne.

Fred sat too. Closer than casual, but not threatening. "Big day," he said.

"They're all big," she replied lightly.

"Hard week?"

Barbara looked thoughtful. "Define hard."

He tilted his head. "Three-hour workouts. Champagne at 10am. Medication without questions. That kind of hard."

She blinked. Then laughed. "Sounds like a runway in Milan."

Fred didn't smile. He leaned back slightly. "You ever stop? Or is it always go?"

Barbara raised her cup. "It's espresso, not a tranquilizer."

"Barbara."

Her name landed like a test. She gave him a long, slow look still soft. Still guarded.

"Fred," she replied. "I'm fine."

He tried a different angle. "You were good with Jack."

She smiled. "He's cute."

"You seemed... different with him."

She shrugged. "He's small. He's honest. No press. No sponsors."

Fred nodded. "And that made you relax."

"I'm always relaxed."

"Except when someone asks if you're okay."

Barbara's lips parted, and for a half-second, just one, it looked like she might crack. Then she laughed again, head tilted back. "You sound like my therapist."

"You have one?"

"No," she said simply. "But if I did, they'd be exhausted."

Fred leaned forward a little. "You're allowed to be tired."

Barbara blinked. Slowly. "Am I?"

"Yes."

She smiled again. "I must've missed that memo."

Fred watched her finish her espresso. Watched her stand without cue. Watched her smile, flawless and practiced. "I appreciate the concern," she said. "But I'm good. Really."

He knew she wasn't. He also knew he wasn't getting through. Not today.

Barbara leaned in, kissed both his cheeks, and added, almost playfully "You worry too much, boss." Then she turned. And walked straight back into the noise. Like she hadn't just dodged a dozen questions with a single smile.

*

The garage smelled like rubber and precision, hot tyres, cool steel, and the afterburn of strategy meetings. The screens flickered, and mechanics buzzed past in navy and pink.

Taylor stepped into the noise like she didn't hear a single part of it. Her VS tracksuit was tailored to her frame, sleeves pushed to her elbows, her glossy hair pulled into a sky-high ponytail so clean it looked surgical. No sweat. No strain. Just polished silence. She moved slowly. Deliberately. Like everything about her had already been rehearsed. Which, of course, it had.

Flavio Briatore was standing just inside the entrance to the hospitality bay, watching her. He'd seen models before. Thousands. He had a child with one.  But Taylor Hill? She moved like architecture. And that was the first red flag. 

"Taylor," he said, voice curious. "How are we feeling?"

She smiled. Tight. Pretty. "Focused."

"Gym looked intense."

"We thrive in sweat."

He chuckled. "You don't look like you just finished a three-hour circuit."

"That's the idea," she said.

She didn't fidget. Didn't shift. Didn't blink more than necessary. Every breath, every smile, every answer was measured.

Flavio gestured to a nearby stool. "Sit with me a moment?"

Taylor sat. Elegantly. Legs crossed. Spine straight. Hands resting in her lap like they'd been posed there.

Flavio sat beside her, not close enough to crowd, but close enough to observe. "You're quiet," he said.

Taylor smiled again. "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

She paused, not to search for words, but to pick the right mask. "About qualifying. About tonight's runway. About whether my lashes will hold in the humidity."

He smiled. "That's not what I meant."

Taylor tilted her head. "Then ask a better question."

That made him blink. He adjusted his posture. "How are you, Taylor? Off-camera. Off-stage."

Her face stayed calm. Serene. Unbothered. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to be."

"That's not really how this works."

"You get to have feelings," he said gently.

She gave a soft laugh. "We all have feelings, Mr Briatore. Some of us just don't have the luxury of showing them."

"That's not luxury. That's survival."

Taylor's smile faltered just barely, for half a second. And that was it. The only tell. She caught herself, blinked once, and smoothed it. "I'm used to surviving," she said. "And I'm good at it."

Flavio leaned forward. "You ever get tired of being good at it?"

Taylor looked at him. Really looked. And then said, with eerie calm "Every single day."

But before he could respond, she was already standing. Back into posture. Back into her role. Back into the version of herself the world expected to see. "Thanks for the chat, I'm gonna grab a drink quick" she said, sweet and sunny. "Tell Esteban to do well in qualifying, I want something to clap for."

She walked away before he could answer.

* 

The garage was quieter than the others, calm before the qualifying storm. Engineers were hunched over screens, drivers off in prep mode. Light filtered through the paddock in warm gold, turning everything soft.

And then Gigi stepped in. Not rushed. Not stressed. Not even pretending to be anything but completely in control.

Her hair was braided like a crown, a glimmering chain wrapped once around her neck. Her Victoria's Secret zip-up jacket was half-open, the tiniest sliver of her sports bra catching light with every step.

A lanyard swayed across her chest. Her smile? Effortless. Her skin? Glowing. Her eyes? Deadly focused beneath the charm.

James Vowles caught sight of her instantly.

"Gentlemen," she greeted, voice light and smooth as silk. "I come bearing good vibes and zero technical knowledge."

James gestured to the small bench at the side of the garage. "Come sit."

"Oh, thank god," she sighed. "My feet are legally protesting this campaign."

He chuckled. She sat, legs crossed, posture flawless, sipping from the iced bottle she brought with her.

James started gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Physically?" she asked. "Like I just ran ten miles in heels."

He smirked. "Emotionally?"

Gigi tilted her head. "Like I'm being asked about my feelings by a very charming man who already know what I'm going to say."

James chuckled. "Do I?"

"Let's see," she smiled. "I'm fine. I'm strong. I'm grateful. I'm busy. I'm hydrated. I'm hyper-focused. I'm deeply invested in tyre degradation data."

James leaned forward. "Gigi."

She winked. "Yes?"

"We're not looking for headlines."

"Then I'll give you poetry."

James' voice cut in, lower, more grounded. "I want truth."

Gigi's smile didn't falter. "I'm giving you the version of truth I've been trained to give since I was fifteen."

"That's not what we need."

"It's the only one you'll get unless you ask a better question."

James exhaled. "What's something we don't see?"

Gigi blinked. Tilted her chin. And answered, without hesitation,  "How hard it is to make pain look beautiful."

He went still. "But you do," James said softly.

"I have to," she replied.

"And you do it well," James added.

She gave them a slow smile. "That's why no one ever asks what it costs."

He studied her. "So tell us. What's the price?"

Gigi leaned back. Thought for a moment. Then said, almost too softly, "The price is that I know how to make you feel like you've gotten what you came for... without telling you anything at all."

He blinked. Because she was right.

She smiles and leaned back, gracefully. Unbothered. Radiant.

"Well," she smiled. "Should we get on with it then?"

* 

The garage buzzed with quiet electricity. Final prep. Data review. Engine temperature updates. Everything moving like clockwork. But in the far corner, behind the row of engineers, away from the screens, just past the hospitality curtain, Toto Wolff stood waiting. Arms folded. Back straight. Expression unreadable. He wasn't waiting for a driver. He wasn't waiting for a strategist. He was waiting for her.

And then she arrived. Martha Jones. 21. Glowing. Devastating. Drenched in post-gym polish, long legs bare beneath her custom VS mini skirt, hair in a slick braid that brushed her spine. Her crop top clung like second skin, and her sunglasses were still perched high on her head.

She walked in like she didn't know he'd been waiting. Like she hadn't been preparing for this moment all day. "Toto," she said, voice smooth. "Looking broody. I like it."

Toto turned slowly, softening just slightly at the edges. "Martha."

She walked over, hips tilted just enough to look casual. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, smile sweet and dangerous.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

She laughed. Softly. And that made it worse.

"I wanted to talk," he said simply. "Somewhere quiet."

She glanced around the garage, then back at him.

"You mean not filmed?" she teased.

"I mean not performed," he replied.

That made her pause for just half a second. Then she smiled again. "I perform everywhere."

"I know." He gestured toward a small set of stairs leading to the second-level hospitality lounge. She followed.

The door shut behind them with a quiet click.

Now it was just them. No camera. No champagne. No Jack. No girls. No scripts.

He didn't sit right away. Neither did she. They stood on opposite sides of the small lounge. Air conditioning humming. The sound of mechanics below a dull background rhythm.

Toto exhaled. "I saw you today."

"I hope I looked good."

"You always do."

She tilted her head, smiling. "Then we're done here."

He didn't laugh. "But Susie also saw the scale." Her expression didn't shift. "She saw the pills." She blinked. Once. Slowly. "And the injection."

Martha stepped forward slightly. "Are you concerned?"

"I'm not asking as your employer," Toto said softly. "I'm asking as someone who watched a six-year-old crawl into your lap because he knew you were safe. And as someone who heard you told Susie a B12 shot lie so easily, I wonder if you even know how deep you're in."

She didn't speak. Not right away. Then "I'm fine."

Toto nodded. "That's what you're trained to say."

"I say it because it's true."

"No, you say it because it's survival."

She laughed again. Quieter this time. He stepped closer. "Martha," he said, voice low now. "Are you in pain?"

She looked at him. Really looked. And for one second, just one, the mask almost fell. Her mouth parted. Her fingers twitched.Her lashes dipped like she might blink too hard and let everything break open. But instead she smiled. Not cruel. Not fake.Just soft. And sad.

"I'm used to pain," she said. "So it doesn't count anymore."

Toto swallowed hard. "That's not how it works."

"It is here."

He looked at her. "You shouldn't have to carry all of it."

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I have four sisters. We share the weight."

He paused. "And none of you have let go."

She didn't answer that. Instead, she stepped past him, brushing his arm lightly with her fingertips.

"Thank you for asking," she whispered. "But please don't ask again unless you're ready for the real answer."

And then she was gone. Back down the stairs. Back into the lights. Back into the machine. Leaving Toto standing in silence. Knowing the truth had almost slipped free. But still wasn't his to hold.

Martha's footsteps were light but quick. Already halfway down the narrow stairs when Toto moved after her.

"Wait," he said, voice softer this time. "Just-one more minute."

He reached out, fingers curling lightly around her shoulder. And that's when she flinched. Not dramatically. Not loud. Just a small, sudden jerk. Her breath catching. Her spine straightening like a whip. Her hand even lifted slightly, like she was going to block something.

It lasted only a second. But it was loud.

Toto pulled back instantly, hands raised.

Martha blinked hard. "Sorry-" she muttered, too quickly. "Just didn't expect that."

Toto's face didn't change. But his eyes? Shattered open.

He took a breath. "Will you come back up for a second?"

Martha hesitated. Eyes on the floor. Then up at him. She exhaled. "You're persistent."

"I'm Austrian."

That made her snort. Just once. She turned back up the stairs.

They sat again, this time both perched on the low hospitality bench. No small talk. No pacing. Just silence for a beat. Then Toto shifted his approach. "Can I ask you something different?"

Martha arched a brow. "You can ask anything. Doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Fair." He waited one more breath. Then said, gently, but clearly: "How's the Jacob situation now?"

And just like that, her smirk returned. It was subtle. Controlled. But her shoulders tightened slightly.

"That's the angle now?" she asked.

"No angle," Toto said. "Just trying to understand."

She looked down at her nails. "It's... done. He's back in New York."

"And you?"

"I'm here, obviously."

He nodded. "And when you're not here?"

"I stay with friends."

"Are you safe?"

She paused. A beat too long. Then "I'm not unsafe."

Toto let that hang. "I saw the way you reacted," he said quietly. "When I touched your shoulder."

Her jaw flexed. "That wasn't about Jacob," she said quickly.

Toto didn't challenge it. He just looked at her. Really looked. And then said, softly, "Martha... it doesn't matter who it was. I just want to know if it's still happening."

That's when she looked away. For the first time since entering the garage. Since walking up those stairs. Since putting on her performance this morning. She looked away. And that alone was the answer.

"Does anyone know?" Toto asked.

Martha laughed — short and hollow. "Define 'know.' The girls have known. Julia knows. David knew. Everyone in our world knew."

"But not here," Toto said. "Not in this paddock."

She shrugged. "I'm not your responsibility."

"I don't care about that."

"Why?"

"Because I watched you hold my son like he was safe."

Martha's eyes flicked to him, fast.

Toto leaned in slightly. "And I can't live with the idea that no one made sure you were safe."

Martha swallowed hard. And that? That nearly cracked it. But then, she smiled. Tired. Brilliant. Devastating.

"You're not the first man to try to save me," she whispered. "But you might be the first to ask first."

Toto didn't move. The silence had settled again, heavier this time. Martha's gaze was back on the glass wall overlooking the paddock, one knee pulled up onto the seat, arms draped over it like she was back in a dressing room and not confessing something that should've broken the air in half.

Toto sat beside her, not close, but present. Still watching her like she might vanish if he said the wrong thing.

He hesitated, then went again, softer this time, a gentler pivot.

"Tell me about your family."

Martha blinked. The smirk didn't even flicker. "Oh, no," she said, almost teasing. "We're not doing that."

Toto's lips twitched, just slightly. "Why not?"

"Because it's a cliché," she said. "Trauma girl with family issues. Boo hoo. Boring."

Toto leaned back. "Alright."

He paused. Then pivoted again. "You were good with Jack."

Martha looked at him, amused. "So now we're doing the maternal angle?"

"I'm just saying," Toto said, "not everyone has that instinct."

"I do."

"You like kids?"

She nodded. "Love them."

There was a pause. Then Toto glanced at her, thinking of this morning, the way the girls had teased her, the way she'd flipped them off while shielding Jack's eyes. The laughter. The smirks. The way something had passed between them when the word kidswas mentioned.

He asked, careful now, "What was that about this morning? The way they reacted when Jack sat with you?"

Martha's expression didn't change. Not even a shift in posture. She smirked again, lazy and perfectly composed. "Nothing."

He raised a brow. She didn't move. He pressed, gently. "Doesn't seem like nothing."

Martha sighed, but it wasn't frustrated. Just resigned. Still smiling. Still calm. "I always wanted kids," she said.

Toto nodded slowly. "You've got time."

She shook her head. "No, I don't."

His brows pulled together. "Why?" He asked it like he assumed the answer was obvious, career, schedule, body image contracts, travel.

But Martha didn't soften it. Didn't wrap it in metaphor. She just said it. Plain. Cold. Clean. "Eating disorders. Being assaulted. And a casual handful of drugs."

Toto froze. Not because she said it. But because she said it like she was telling him what she had for lunch. No tremor. No flinch. No pause. Just... fact.

"I was told last year that I probably couldn't carry," she continued. "And if I did, I wouldn't be able to carry safely. So..." She sipped her water bottle. Still smiling. "Here we are."

Toto couldn't speak at first. Because it wasn't what she said.It was how unbothered she seemed saying it.

"That doesn't upset you?" he asked quietly.

Martha looked at him. Really looked. And then, almost too casually, "It did. A while ago. But I think you stop grieving things when no one else thinks they're worth grieving."

Toto's breath left him in a slow exhale. "Martha-"

She waved a hand, almost flippantly. "I'm okay," she said. "Really. I'm not telling you so you'll feel something. I'm telling you because you asked. And I don't lie to people who actually ask."

He watched her for a long moment. Watched her, glowing and poised and so calm it was almost unnatural. This wasn't detachment. It was survival, layered so thickly it looked like peace. And all Toto could do was sit with it. Because what do you say to a girl who's already buried the worst of herself and made art from the tombstone?

Toto inhaled. Slowly. Let the silence stretch. Then carefully, gently,  "You said eating disorders, assault, and drugs."

Martha raised one brow, still perched like royalty on the edge of the bench. "I did."

"Do you want to talk about that?"

She let out a small laugh. Not bitter. Just amused. "Toto," she said, blinking slowly, "we're not doing the therapy thing."

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Because it's boring," she said. "And unnecessary."

His expression didn't change. "You brought it up."

"Because you asked," she said sweetly. "Not because I wanted sympathy."

"You think that's what I'm doing?"

"I think," she said, smiling faintly, "you're trying to play therapist in a team principal's suit. It's sweet. But also? Kind of useless."

He tried another angle. "This morning," he said. "When the girls were joking about the kids thing. Was that... about this?"

Martha didn't blink. Just nodded once, like they were talking about weather patterns "Yeah."

"And they laughed?"

"It's comical," she said. "That the one thing I wanted in life is the one thing I can't have. It's funny in a Greek tragedy kind of way."

Toto stared at her. She stared back, unbothered. He leaned forward, voice quieter now. "Tell me about the eating disorder."

"No."

"Why not?"

She smiled wider. "Because I don't want to."

He didn't push, just let that answer settle. "Are you still struggling?"

"No," she said instantly. But her tone was too fast. Too light.

He let it go. Then tried the next one. "Drugs?"

Martha tilted her head, that same amused smirk on her lips. "Don't do them anymore," she said.

Toto held her gaze. He didn't need to say anything. He knew. She was lying. But she smiled so pretty when she lied, like she was offering him a bouquet of poisoned roses and daring him to smell them.

Still, he didn't press. Instead, his voice a breath softer, "And the assault?"

That's when she grinned. Wide. Easy. Perfect. And then she pushed her tongue between her top teeth and her top lip, smirking with full calm, full poise, full weaponised indifference.

The universal symbol for I know this is horrifying, and I literally don't give a fuck.

Toto didn't look away. Didn't flinch.

Martha leaned back on her hands and said, with a voice like velvet over razor blades, "Not the worst thing that's happened to me, to be honest."

And that was it. That was the moment he understood: She'd made peace with the hell she lived through... because no one ever came to save her. So she learned how to make it look like she never needed saving.

He sat still across from her, processing everything she'd just laid out like it was harmless, like she hadn't just dropped the kind of information that would level anyone else.

"Martha..." he started again, quieter now. "You said it wasn't the worst thing that happened. I'm not going to let that go."

She leaned her head back against the sofa, stretching her neck, then turning to him with the kind of smile you'd give someone you knew couldn't win. "But you're going to have to," she said.

His brow twitched. "Why?"

"Because I'm not talking about it." There wasn't a tremor in her voice. Not even a blink.

Toto folded his hands in front of him. "You don't have to give details. I'm just trying to understand. Someone needs to."

"You can't fix it," she said simply. "And if you think you can, that's your problem, not mine."

"I'm not trying to fix it."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see you."

She laughed. Laughed. Short. Bright. Sharp. Like he'd just told a charming little joke about taxes. "Everybody sees me," she said, lifting a shoulder. "It's kind of the whole thing."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "They see what you give. Not what's underneath."

She turned to him again, eyes glassy but not soft, smirk still intact. "I'm not a fucking onion, Toto."

He sighed. "You don't have to be."

She crossed one leg over the other, smoothed her skirt, perfectly poised, as if she weren't standing in the middle of emotional napalm. "You're trying really hard," she said, voice almost tender. "But this isn't the part you get to fix. I don't need to be healed. I need to work. I need to be on time. I need to look good. I need to not cry in press rooms."

Toto's voice dropped, tight in his chest. "Is that what they told you, or what you told yourself?"

Martha smiled wider. "Does it matter?"

He stared at her, at the perfect posture, the glassy shimmer in her eyes that never broke, and the way her mouth curled just slightly more when she knew she was saying something horrible. "Why are you smiling right now?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Because if I don't laugh," she said, "I'll start getting too honest. And we both know that's not good for business."

Toto leaned back. He didn't speak. Because she'd made her position clear. Not by yelling. Not by crying. Not by collapsing. But by sitting there, smirking like she was amused by her own trauma, and never once flinching.

Toto didn't respond right away. Because what could he say? She was still looking at him, lashes soft, body relaxed, tone featherlight, like she hadn't just brushed off the kind of confession that would shatter anyone else.

And then she leaned forward. Elbows on her knees. Head tilted, voice low and silk-smooth. "You know how it is."

Toto blinked. She kept going. "Say you've got a good car. No, a great car. Say you're leading the pack. Perfect strategy. Unstoppable telemetry. Are you gonna tell everyone how you built it?"

He didn't answer. Didn't need to.

"You gonna stand in a press conference and say, 'Hey, here's our loophole. Here's our secret sauce. Here's the exact reason we're pulling ahead'?" She gave him a smirk, small, deadly, like she'd already won. "No. Because it's yours. Because it's working. And if you let them look behind the curtain, they'll copy it. Or worse, they'll try to break it."

Toto's jaw tightened.

"Say you found something that makes the car faster," she continued, "something technically legal but frowned upon. The kind of thing no one would understand unless they were inside the garage. Would you put that on a fucking poster?"

He exhaled through his nose. "No."

"Exactly," Martha said, smiling. "So why are you asking me to?"

Toto looked at her, really looked. "Because what you're protecting isn't a car. It's you."

Martha sat back. Crossed her legs. Lifted her chin. "I am the car."

Toto swallowed hard.

"Every gear. Every part. Every system. I'm the loophole. I'm the strategy. I'm the shiny fucking thing they all want to understand, and I don't let them. That's how I stay on top." She didn't raise her voice. Didn't flinch. Just said it like gospel. "And the second I tell someone how it all works?" she added, "they either start taking it apart or using it against me."

Toto's voice was soft now. "I wouldn't do that."

She looked at him, gentle but firm. "I know you wouldn't mean to."

But that wasn't a denial. That was reality. She stood up, calm and slow, fixing the hem of her top, reaching for her lanyard. "That's why I'm not giving you the behind-the-scenes," she said, eyes flashing. "You think I've stayed alive this long by letting men like you study me?"

He didn't move.

She leaned in slightly, one hand on the door handle. "Secrets are what keep people like me alive."

Then she turned. Opened the door. Stepped back into the world like she hadn't just dropped the entire philosophy of her survival into his lap.

And Toto? Toto stayed seated. Realising that for all his control, all his power, all his precision, he'd just met someone with an even more dangerous weapon. Silence. And the discipline to never break it.

[moiraimyths]

Where would the line of succession go if Aífe/Flannán didn't have an heir? What are the succession laws for the other world?

This is a little situational! At the moment, if Flannán were to die suddenly, it is quite possible the "Unseelie" as a distinct nation state would quickly cease to be, as they would be vulnerable to the Seelie swooping in to reclaim the lost territory while they have the opportunity to do so. That said! In terms of the technical process of selecting a new monarch, it may surprise you to learn it would come down to a vote! Not from the "common" people, mind you, but among the regional lords of the Seelie/Unseelie sides. Eligible persons for the throne would make their cases for why they ought to rule instead, and the candidate with the most support would be the next monarch. Typically candidates consisted of other lords who could claim shared ancestry with the previous monarch, but in the Unseelie's case, since both Lugaid and Flannán were common born and their ancestries were not tracked, the election would be dubiously open to all lords, or close confidants like Maeve who command the people's respect. This is how Aífe became queen, actually! Of course, the fact she was chosen by Lia Fáil (the ancient coronation stone) also helped her case.

If you're wondering, this system does have a basis in Brehon law (ancient Irish law), specifically under a system called tanistry. The Tuatha Dé's current system is not quite the same as the historic system, though: After the Tuatha Dé were defeated by the Milesians, many of the ancient laws were revisited/revised to encourage stability (submission to a central state power) and thereby clamp down on territory grabs, cattle raids, etc. between lords (or, then, petty kings). In any case, one change to the law was establishing a line of succession based on age and the familial relation, with direct descendants preferred over brothers or sisters, etc. Voting in a new monarch is now more or less a "final resort".

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Bibles, bullets and beef: Amazon cowboy culture at odds with Brazil’s climate goals

As the first climate summit in the Amazon approaches, a gulf is opening between what the area’s farming lobby wants, and what the world needs

Yellowstone in Montana may have the most romanticised cowboy culture in the world thanks to the TV drama series of the same name starring Kevin Costner. But the true home of the 21st-century cowboy is about 7,500 miles south, in what used to be the Amazon rainforest of Brazil, where the reality of raising cattle and producing beef is better characterised by depression, market pressure and vexed efforts to prevent the destruction of the land and its people.

The toll was apparent along the rutted PA 279 road in Pará state. Signs of human and environmental stress were not hard to find during the last dry season. Record drought had dried up irrigation ponds and burned pasture grass down to the roots, leaving emaciated cattle behind the fences. Exposed red soil was whipped up into dust devils as SUVs and cattle trucks sped past on their way between Xinguara and São Félix do Xingu, which is home to both the biggest herd on the planet and the fastest erasure of forest in the Amazon.

Later this year, Pará will host the Cop30 climate conference, which would be an ideal moment for Brazil to demonstrate progress on a new system to track livestock and reduce emissions from deforestation. That system should be completed by the end of 2026. But few ranchers believe this will happen because of the huge gulf between what locals want and what the world needs.

The first ranchers here were once told they were heroes for opening new economic frontiers. But the climate crisis has dealt a triple blow to their reputation and their livelihoods: not only has it become harder to feed and water their livestock, they now face criticism for wrecking a biodiverse pillar of the global environment while also bearing the brunt of conflicting demands from multinational food corporations to provide food that is both economically cheap and ecologically ethical.

Continue reading.

[horse-reviews]

Please can you tell me 5 interesting things about cow and sheep diseases

i have waited my entire life to hear this very question thank you my friend. my answers are very focused on aotearoa as that is where i did my masters

facial eczema is a fungal disease of sheep and cattle that is caused by eating fungal spores in grass which release a toxin into the gut of the animal and cause liver and systemic damage, including facial lesions. my interesting fact here is that a study was done to attempt to vaccinate sheep against the toxin, but instead of reducing the disease, it somehow made it significantly worse

listeriosis in sheep (infection with the same listeria that can cause food poisoning in humans) can present as repeated circling or staggering followed by death, as it is a neurological disease in sheep. my father once saw a sheep circling in one of our paddocks and by the time he reached it, it had already died

the techniques used in aotearoa and later globally for tracking covid-19 variants were prototyped here in aotearoa for tracking bovine tuberculosis outbreaks! cattle here frequently catch it from the invasive brushtail possum (one major reason why we are trying to eradicate them, the other being the harm they cause to native birds) and this method of disease mutation tracing was pioneered for working out where these outbreaks were coming from

sheep have their own prion disease called scrapie which (like chronic wasting disease in deer) can be transmitted through soil and water. here in aotearoa we accidentally imported scrapie in the 1970s to mana island and as a result had to torch and burn an entire mob of sheep and abandon the island for sheep farming - to this day there are restrictions on visiting the island for safety

MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus) has been detected in nz cattle, which is concerning by itself, but it is also transmissible to humans, particularly through the drinking of unpasteurised milk. Never drink unpasteurised milk. The most common victims of this here are farmers drinking milk from their own cows due to the belief that fresh milk is still safe

[dvmm13]

“What the fuck is that thing?!” Teresa roared as her leg muscles were burning, sweat soaking, head frantically turning left and right to scan for the pursuing demon in a giant man’s guise filled with bloodlust and perverted sadism.

“The hell…would I know…” Bobbi’s panting showcased the limitation of her body caused by a large wound on her stomach from the lightning-fast claw attack courtesy of Victor Creed. The new stim shot developed by Richard Parker recently helps numb the pain and keep her going, but the loss of blood is slow but gradually catching up as the chase goes on.

“He’s too fast to be a human!” following her instinct, Teresa shot a valley of ICER rounds into the rustling bushes surrounding them, still having no clue about their destination.

There’s only a singular drive that matters at the moment.

Survive.

They run, and run, but the chance of survival receding significantly with the more Bobbi Morse keeps pushing her limits.

“Run, little rabbits! Make it more fun for me!” the giant man cackled from the woods, like a wraith of vengeance hunting them down. Sounds of trees being pounced upon and launched from chasing their tails like a shadow, deliberately stretching out the inevitable doom for entertainment.

She’s not an expert marksman or godly-accurate like Hawkeye or anything, but she could’ve sworn on her dead mother’s grave that she landed at least five shots of ICER rounds into the inhuman hunter after he almost disemboweled the blonde agent. According to the specs, that much dendrotoxin in someone’s system should introduce a cardiac arrest or even semi-permanent nerve damage already; yet the motherfucker’s still maniacally hunting them down like cattle effortlessly.

Maybe, just maybe, she can sacrifice Morse and get away from here. A slim chance of success, but it’s better than whatever the sadist giant had in mind.

That’s how she lived her life since…

Teresa suddenly stopped in her tracks and ducked down out of instinct, rolled out of the way, and quickly lined the barrel of her ICER at the blur of Victor Creed, aiming at the center of mass. Three consecutive shots rang out, colliding into the savage man’s chest and neck, resulting in his falling limp and careening into a nearby fell tree, the sound of the collision was identical to a speeding truck crashing into a pole. The light of hope is fleeting, as the mass of a furred man slowly rises from the exploded tree with splints of wood piercing into his flesh, yet the animalistic man doesn’t seem too bothered by it at all.

Under the moonlight, Teresa witnessed the most baffling sight she’d ever come across.

Victor Creed casually dislodged all of the splints from his body, even the big one that pierced through his diaphragm had been pulled out like plucking a chicken’s feather, the exposed skin shows the wounds he sustained a mere moment earlier mending themselves like reverse footage, accelerated beyond human comprehension.

His metallic and shiny grin of death illuminated by the cold and uncaring gleam of the moon sowed despair into her heart. Shaken with fear and desperation, Teresa lined the gun again at the slowly approaching monster in front of her and fired another set of shots into his broad chest.

Her fingers kept pulling, her arms locked into a straight line, and her eyes glued to the occasional struggle of her killer.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Click…

Click…

“Damn…that’s annoying,” Victor Creed growled with a sadistic smile, tensing up his arms and extending his Adamantium claws from his fingers “Ya should’ve kept running, little rabbit,” his clawed hand raised above his head, prepped for a deathly swipe, but he went rigid and foaming at his mouth a moment later as a sling of electrode penetrated his side, sending a lethal dose of electric shock through his body.

Teresa’s eyes traced the line back to its origin and met with the pale face of Bobbi Morse leaning against a tree trunk with one of her escrima in hand, her pressing finger violently shaking from exhaustion.

“Get out of there!” the command came in like a dying plea, but it was enough to jumpstart her paralyzed brain. Rolling to the side and running again, Teresa approached her C.O. with confusion and gratitude. “The battery won’t hold much longer…we need to…” she whimpered, almost collapsing on the tree trunk if not for Teresa’s support.

Teresa, with quick thinking, took Bobbi’s gun into her hand and rained another magazine down on Victor Creed, purposefully grouping the shots at his head. “How many spares do you have?” the Chameleon gritted through the fear and reloaded one from her belt into the gun.

“A couple…” Bobbi groaned and leaned heavily on Teresa, her hand still clutching the escrima like a lifeline. “Fury said nothing…about this kind of…monster.” Morse coughs a froth of blood, her internal organs starting to break down.

The effect starts to lessen when the battery is running out of juice, evidently shown in how Victor Creed gets hold of the electrode cable with his massive hand and pulls; the hook tip dislodged forcefully from his side accompanied by a squirt of blood.

“Woah! That’s the stuff! Haven’t been shocked that good since Harbin, makes me kinda missing that fucker Shiro,” Sabretooth yapped on while evading another electrode with ease since he wasn’t caught off guard this time. “Ya got some bite, I’ll give y’all that.” He walked up to them, claws sprung, and metallic fang lined his grinning face. the halo of death formed around his head from the fading moonlight was to be the last sight they would see in this final moment. “But, sadly, bunnies; everything ends.”

[probablyasocialecologist]

Over the past 15 years, damage to Gaza’s infrastructure is thought to amount to US$5 billion (£4.1 billion) across four previous wars. After the 22-day invasion from December 2008 to January 2009, the UN documented wide-scale damage to fields, vegetable crops, orchards, livestock, wells, hatcheries, beehives, greenhouses and irrigation systems. Over 35,750 cattle, sheep and goats and more than one million poultry were killed. The UN mission stated that the destruction had degraded land, by “mechanical ripping and removal of trees, shrubs and crops”, and that the “passage of heavy tracked vehicles has compacted the soil”, hampering future cultivation. With each war, Gaza’s dependence on Israeli imports of water, energy, fuel, food and agricultural inputs only increases. Meanwhile, Israel’s economy has become intricately bound to its illegal occupation of Palestine, to the tune of exports worth US$4.16 billion in 2021, creating a perverse mutual dependence.

[kishorxox]

Global Livestock Monitoring Market: Size & Share Insights

Meticulous Research®—a leading global market research company, published a research report titled, ‘Livestock Monitoring Market by Offering (Hardware, Software, Services), Animal Type (Cattle, Poultry, Swine, Others), Deployment Mode, Application (Milk Harvesting, Breeding Management, Others), Technology, Geography - Global Forecasts to 2032.’

According to this latest publication from Meticulous Research®, the livestock monitoring market is projected to reach $3.6 billion by 2032, at a CAGR of 12.1% from 2025 to 2032. Some of the major factors driving the growth of this market are the increasing adoption of livestock monitoring for early disease detection, and the rising number of dairy, poultry and swine farms. In addition, the growing adoption of IoT and AI in livestock monitoring provides market growth opportunities. However, the high cost of livestock monitoring solutions and the lack of understanding of technology among farmers can restrain the growth of this market.

The livestock monitoring market is segmented by offering, animal type, deployment mode, application and technology. The study also evaluates industry competitors and analyzes the regional and country-level markets.

Based on offering, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into hardware, software, and services. In 2025, the software segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of the segment is attributed to the growing amount of data generated from sensors, RFID tags, neck collars, and surveillance cameras to track & monitor the health of livestock and keep a check on their farm animals, manage herds in remote locations, customize diet and care, and reduce livestock theft in real-time.

Based on animal type, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into cattle, poultry, swine, equine and other animal types. In 2025, the cattle segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of this segment is attributed to the increase in the consumption of dairy products. According to the OECD (France), the world's per capita consumption of fresh dairy products is projected to increase by 1.0% p.a. over the next decade. In addition, the growing need to ensure the safety and quality of these products and the prevention of disease transmission are the drivers for market growth. However, the poultry segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on deployment mode, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into on-premise and cloud-based deployments. In 2025, the on-premise segment is expected to account for the larger share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large market share of this segment is attributed to a high preference for on-premise livestock monitoring devices among large enterprises, security issues associated with cloud deployments, and the availability of trained IT professionals & infrastructure. However, the cloud-based segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on application, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into milk harvesting, breeding management, feeding management, animal health monitoring & comfort, heat stress, behavior monitoring and other applications. In 2025, the feeding management segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The need for continuous access to water and feed and for keeping animals' living areas clean is increasing. Proper feeding and manure handling are vital for veterinary health, comfort, and well-being, but also for reducing disease, illness, and parasites. However, the milk harvesting segment is expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on technology, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into IoT, artificial intelligence, big data analytics, GPS, and other technologies. In 2025, the IoT segment is expected to account for the largest share of the global livestock monitoring market. The large share of the segment is attributed to the rising need to monitor the health and vitality of livestock in real-time, enabling farmers to quickly treat animals and prevent the spread of disease, monitor grazing patterns and nutritional changes, track grazing animals, gather and analyze historical data to identify trends in cattle health, optimizing breeding practices. However, the segment is also expected to record the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Based on geography, the livestock monitoring market is segmented into North America, Asia-Pacific, Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East & Africa. In 2025, North America is expected to account for the largest share of the livestock monitoring market. The large segment share is attributed to the rising consumption of meat. According to the data published by Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, in 2021, it has been estimated that 48,602 kt cwe meat will be consumed by 2032 in North America, accounting for 44,949 kt cwe in the U.S. and 3,653 cwe in Canada.

According to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (UNFAO), the U.S. is the world's largest producer of chicken meat, producing 20.4 million metric tons of broiler meat in 2021. In addition, the prevalence of zoonotic diseases has fueled the demand for technology to monitor sick animals, which is anticipated to drive the North American market. However, Asia-Pacific is slated to register the highest CAGR during the forecast period.

Key Players:

The key players operating in the livestock monitoring market are GEA Group Aktiengesellschaft (Germany), Afimilk Ltd. (Israel), a subsidiary of Kibbutz Afikim - Agricultural Cooperative Society Ltd. (Israel), DeLaval (Sweden), a subsidiary of Tetra Laval (Switzerland), Sensaphone (U.S.), BouMatic (U.S.), DAIRYMASTER (Ireland), Lely (Netherlands), Fancom BV (Netherlands), Fullwood JOZ Ltd (U.K.), Communications Group Lethbridge (Canada), Merck & Co., Inc. (U.S.), HID Global Corporation (U.S.), Hokofarm Group (Netherlands), Nedap Livestock Management (Netherlands), ENGS Systems (Israel), CowManager B.V. (Netherlands), HerdInsights (Ireland), and Zoetis Inc. (U.S.).

Download Sample Report Here @ https://www.meticulousresearch.com/download-sample-report/cp_id=5530

Key questions answered in the report-

Which are the high-growth market segments based on offering, animal type, deployment mode, application, and technology?

What was the historical market for livestock monitoring solutions?

What are the market forecasts and estimates for the period 2025–2032?

What are the livestock monitoring market's major drivers, restraints, and opportunities?

Who are the major players, and what shares do they hold in the livestock monitoring market?

How is the competitive landscape in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the recent developments in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the different strategies adopted by the major players in the livestock monitoring market?

What are the key geographic trends, and which are the high-growth countries?

Who are the local emerging players in the global livestock monitoring market, and how do they compete with the other players?

Contact Us: Meticulous Research® Email- sales@meticulousresearch.com Contact Sales- +1-646-781-8004 Connect with us on LinkedIn- https://www.linkedin.com/company/meticulous-research

[decepticonfessional]

I’ve been working more on Cybercattle Ranch this week, as well as a shorter prequel game for Hypnovember.

Updates on progress for CCR include:

- Adjustments to the way time progresses. Now at end of day the herd is rounded up and a brief scene for recharging will play out rather than having the player wander around unable to do much for half the time. This shrinks the game map slightly, removes the recharge actions and energy tracker, and helps in keeping track of where everyone is.

- Removed medications and treats as random item drops from kicking the ranchers, eliminating the need for a separate eating function.

- Figured out how to give the bulls a preference in which cows in the area they’d like to mount and in what order. There’s now a cooldown for each cow and a refractory period for the bulls (that can be adjusted by the ranchers). If a cow has been recently mounted by a bull, they will wander off to an adjacent space allowing for any other cows in the area to move up the priority list.

- Adjusted bull movement behaviors so that they will try to avoid other bulls but seek out cows. This will be handy for building future confrontation encounters and also pairs well with the post-overload wandering the cows will be doing.

- The pumping station and wash station have been moved.

- Added a dirt counter in place of previous grime mechanics. When it tops out, the ranchers bring you to the wash station for a bath.

- Biggest shift is in bull/cow transitioning. Previously, there was a single variable determining whether the player or an NPC was a cow or bull. Now I’ve built out two player characters for each mode and will simply have the game switch between them should a transition occur. The same will apply to NPCs that do so as well though not every NPC will be able to. This took a bit of restructuring.

- Status line now adjusts itself based off of the player’s current cognition level.

- NPCs limited to three characters while building out the remainder of the game. These are Bull!Optimus, Cow!Optimus, Cow!Prowl, and Cow!Jazz. Once I’m satisfied that the major functionality of the game is working, I’ll release a version with these three and then slowly add more.

As for the Hypnovember prequel - it will basically just be the ‘cattle conversion’ process prior to being placed on the ranch. It’s very straightforward and doesn’t have many extraneous systems built into it.

That’s my updates for now!

[spectralgecko]

On the less infuriating side of things...

Uh, got anything you want to ramble about?

Uhhhh

gosh, I dunno if anyone's actually asked me that without a specific prompt before.

Wanna hear about Pompeii?

Cuz back uh.... actually back during darn near the middle of Covid (2021-2022) I had the immense pleasure of going to Europe for two weeks with my high school class to actually visit some of the places we'd studied.

And part of that was taking an entire day to go up and walk through Pompeii. (Our tour guide was Gaetano by the way, 1000% percent recommend him as a guide if you ever find yourself looking for a Pompeii tour guide for some reason. He's incredible.)

And Pompeii is SO INCREDIBLY COOL and boy howdy were the Romans smarter than we give them credit for 90% of the time.

There's fast food stalls. FAST FOOD. These little kitchens on the corners at intersections that would've been open to the street, and you could've gotten fast, hot food - a more apt comparison might be street food, but for them it was adjacent to fast food in many ways.

And most of the intersections had this same structure: food stop, wine bar, and drinking well. All across town.

Oh, and those wells? Genius. They had it running out and stopping at a couple levels - upper section for people to drink from, runs into a basin for your horses/cattle, and then it drains out onto the street.

But why would they do that? What's with the wet streets?

Cleaning system.

They had raised sidewalks off the road so that pedestrians stayed dry, and then the actual road way had water running in it, because lets be honest the horses and cows and all the critters will just... take a dump. So rather than letting it get stinky constantly and also having to always pick up after em, the running water washed stuff out of the road.

And then they had stepping stones for crossing, so that no one had to step in the water. They also doubled as lane dividers. On two-way roads, there were three across the road, leaving four tracks for wagon wheels. Then on one-way streets, they only had one stepping stone. They also had stones periodically on the edges of the road that functioned as bumper guards to keep the wagons and animals from going up onto the sidewalk.

Oh, and at night? Visibility gets rough and nobody wants to be stepping in the road water, so they used white quartz/white stones that were reflective and showed up well under the moonlight. They'd put those white rock bits in at the edge of the sidewalk and around the crosswalks so you could sorta see where the edge was, like our little road reflectors.

And structurally, all of their buildings had balconies and terraces. These provided shade on those sidewalks.

Also, terracotta was basically their "plastic" - the trash item when an everyday tool broke, and so they'd recycle it to pave the sidewalks.

And they're architectural savvy is just... all over the place. Like in the bath houses?

The shower room of the baths had a whole lotta steam that would rise to the top, condense as it cooled, and drip down as hot water. So for the ceiling, instead of using their usual mosaic decor, they decorate it with these little arcing channels that the water could just run down and off to the side, just to make it more pleasant.

And they had plumbing too - lead pipes, except because of the constantly flowing water, there was this mineral residue over the lead that kept them from getting lead poisoning. (Also the well water in Rome is spectacular, it tastes Very Good.)

Oo, and the paintings they used to decorate everything? Those paintings use a very specific technique to keep their color so long. They'd apply the pigment to the plaster while it was still damp, so that i just... cemented into the plaster. Oh, and they often mixed their paint with marble dust to make it sparkly and shiny.

And oh my stars the paintings were so pretty, everything was so colorful? And there was a heckin "beware of dog" mosaic as a "doormat" to one of the houses. ("Cave canem" for anyone interested.)

Also columns everywhere. Columns always supported a roof. But most or all buildings had a sky light in the middle. Besides giving light, that space also helped to lessen noise by giving it somewhere to go.

Also, because actual marble is so difficult to transport, columns were often carved from another stone, and later brick, then covered in plaster mixed with marble dust and then scorched to look like marble. So ,"fake marble."

But, until later (and even then), faux marble was not in the town square with the basilica. That was all real marble, because to them, justice was incredibly important. For things of value, you used real marble.

Also worth noting, basically everything was covered in marble or the faux marble, so at the time it was hard to tell what stuff was actually made of.

Oo, and the Forum is really cool. These people are very social, and the forum had most of the entertainment, and where you could talk with the sailors and hear stories and such (it was also pretty common to invite them in for dinner to hear what they had to say). And structurally, the floors of the forum were slightly slanted sea-wards so that on rainy days all the water would drain towards the ocean instead of piling up.

Ashgsjhs the architecture in Pompeii is SO COOL HELP- I would desperately like to go back and spend more time there, because there's just... so much.

[blooming-violets]

CREATURE LIKE ME || CHAPTER SEVEN: MURDERER

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Story Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Seven Warnings (spoilers): this chapter contains a SA scene and a depiction of a murder

[link to chapter index]

Aylin leaned her shoulder against the stone wall and watched with a placid detachment as Kraven carried the naked wolf girl over to the table. He laid her limp body down with a sort of tenderness Aylin wasn’t used to seeing from him. The wolf girl’s eyes remained closed. Though, her dark, wet lashes clumped together as if she had been silently crying only moments ago. Through the thick layers of dirt and caked over blood, her body was painted with a myriad of scars. Old and new. Knife slices, whip slashings, bruises, bite marks. Aylin could make constellations out of the red marks of abuse hidden among her black and purple galaxy skin. Whatever she had experienced down here, the wolf girl had experienced much, much worse. 

Her death was the last piece of the puzzle for Aylin to gain her freedom 

Her life would amount to nothing more than a final sacrifice. One life traded for another. Her death meant Aylin could live again. 

And Aylin didn’t even know the girl’s name.

Kraven took a step back from the table and observed the young girl with a quiet contemplation, “Don’t ever mention this to Calypso but I think I’ve grown a bit fond of the wolf. She was a fierce fighter for being such a little thing but, alas, everyone gets broken in the end. Look at her now. Wasted away to nothing. Her blood has served me well. Even now, it still courses through my system. They only last a few hours inside of you depending on how much you drink before the effects start to wear off. I tell you, it’s like a power you’ve never felt in all your life, Aylin. Truly an addicting substance. It’s no wonder the wolves fight so hard to stay alive. They must feel incredible all the time.” He paused to glance down at the girl, rethinking his statement. “Well, not all the time.”

Aylin pushed herself off the wall and padded over to where he stood. Each step shot an agonizing, fiery pain up her thigh. She had to position her legs further apart than usual so her thighs didn’t rub together. Even with Calypso’s special salve covering her brand, it still seared red hot and angry. 

“Why are you telling me this?” She muttered, standing at his side. “What you and Calypso are doing is a direct betrayal to the guild. You’re consuming the blood of the enemy. You’re drinking wolf blood. Does that make you a werewolf, too? Are you one of them now?” 

The guild had no prior knowledge on how Lycan were made as far as she knew. Wolves kept their secrets close to their chest but the Colt’s always assumed it had something to do with consuming their blood. Peter only mentioned that a person could be turned or born into it. He never stated how that transformation took place. It seemed like blood would be a key factor in it, though. 

Kraven gave her a side eye and shrugged, “Who are you going to tell? You’ve been branded with the Kravinoff emblem. You’re one of mine now. If I go down, you go down.” 

Kravinoff emblem. This symbol of the sun belonged to the entire Silver Colt guild. It wasn’t something only for him to claim. Her mother wore a golden sun pendant around her neck. Her father had it tattooed on his shoulder. She had it embroidered into her hunting jacket. That didn’t mean they were all claimed by Kraven. The sun united them together against the moon worshiping Lycan. It didn’t claim them. Her brand meant nothing to her except a physical reminder that she lived a lifetime of lies. Her sun, charred into her skin like a farmer’s cattle, did not signify anything other than a sun. She gave it no power over her. No matter who manipulated her body, her mind would never belong to anyone but herself. 

Unless he managed to sever what little grasps of sanity she was still desperately clinging to down here.

“We’re not werewolves,” he stated. “Neither Cal nor I have experienced any change besides feeling stronger and more youthful than usual. We’re not one of them. We’re just enhancing our bodies to be better hunters. Clearly, blood isn’t what transforms a person. We were wrong in our assumptions.” 

The Silver Colts were wrong about a lot of things. 

The broken, naked wolf girl laying half unconscious in front of them was one of those things. 

They were two abused, degraded women confined to a torture chamber with a hot-headed narcissist and his psychopathic wife. It didn’t matter where either of the girls originally came from, only that they ended up in the same place, at the same time. While one’s story was going to end in this room, the other’s was just about to begin. 

Aylin stepped forward when she noticed the girl shivering. She had no comfort to offer her, no blanket, or clothes for warmth. All she had was herself. Aylin placed a hand over the girl’s forehead and gently stroked it over her hair like her mother used to do for her when she was ill. She could tell the girl had a high fever from the heat radiating from her skin and the cool, clammy sweat clinging to her forehead. Her body was starting to shut down. 

"Give me your shall, Sergei,” she demanded. 

Kraven shrugged it off and passed it over. Ever since he branded her, he’d been much more compliant to her wants. It seems she had him fooled. When he told her she would want for nothing if she agreed to his terms, she didn’t think it would happen so quickly. As long as he still believed she would give her body over to him, he seemed to adhere to her. 

Aylin draped the Lycan shall over the girl’s torso. She was so petite that it nearly reached from her shoulders to her ankles. Aylin rubbed her hands down the girl’s arms to help warm the chill in her bones. She hoped that maybe the feel of Lycan fur against her skin might be of some comfort to her. She was so out of it that Aylin hoped she wouldn’t take much notice of the morbidity of the pelt. 

“You’ll be home soon,” she leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’ll be welcomed home by the ones you love. Think of your mother. Your father. Anyone who brings you comfort. Imagine their faces smiling back at you. They love you so much and they’re so excited to see you again. Your pain is all gone. It’s all over. You did so well. You were so strong but now it’s time to rest. You’re ready to go home.”

The wolf girl gave a quiet moan, her brows scrunched together, and then relaxed as a small smile graced her chapped lips. It wasn’t much but it’s what Aylin would have wanted to imagine as her last thoughts on this plane of existence. She’d want to be thinking of the people she loved most in her world. In times like these, she missed her big brother. He would have noticed she was missing. He would have come searching for her. She wondered what Emir’s last thoughts were as the bullet lodged into him and blood poured from his stomach. She wondered if he thought of her or their mother right before the wolf’s teeth sunk into his flesh. 

Peter’s teeth. 

She couldn’t think about that. She had to push that thought away. All this time she had been searching for reasons to hate him to make killing him easier. Here it was. Right in front of her. The perfect answer to all her problems. And, still, she couldn’t find a single ounce of hate left in heart to aim at him. He was too soft. Gentle. Caring. Sad. Those big, grief-stricken solid brown eyes. 

She didn’t hate him anymore than she hated the girl in front of her.  

Aylin could feel Kraven’s stare burning a hole in the back of her skull but she refused to turn around. This was between her and the girl. If she was going to kill her, she was going to do it her way. Her freedom came with a heavy price and she wasn’t going to pay it lightly. 

“What’s your name?” She whispered down to the girl. 

The wolf mumbled out some pained, unintelligible sounds. Her dulling emerald eyes cracked open into tiny slits to look up at her. 

“Stop delaying the inevitable,” she croaked out. “My name will not save me. You don’t deserve to know it. It’s all I have left that is mine and only mine. I’ll take it to my grave.”

She was right. Her name would not save her but it would soothe a piece of Aylin’s frantic mind. It would give the girl an identity she could hold onto after her death. A name to remember her by when she thought of her in the future. She would not have to be the nameless Lycan ruthlessly slaughtered at her hands. She was also correct in saying that Aylin didn’t deserve to know. Knowing that bit of personal information would only be used to serve Aylin, not the girl. She would be dead whether Aylin knew it or not. She didn’t care how her memory stuck around with a Silver Colt. She had the right to keep the last of her secrets even if it left a heavy weight of guilt and unsolved answers on Aylin’s mind. 

She reached her hand behind her back, “Give me your dagger, Sergei. Let’s finish this.” 

She felt the hilt press into her hands.

“I don’t want blood all over my sh-” Kraven started to speak but Aylin cut him off. 

“It will wash out.” 

She was hyper focused, zeroing in, on where she assumed the forever nameless wolf girl’s heart was under her chest. She wanted to be as precise and quick as she could to make it as painless as possible. 

This was going to happen. She was going to take her life. Right here. Right now. It was suddenly too real. 

Aylin’s vision blurred but she fought off the tears. In another world, it could have been Peter laying here, half dead, with her dagger raised above his chest. This was what he wanted from her. He wanted her face to be the last he saw. He wanted this death at her hands. In another world, she would have never hesitated. Now, she couldn’t see past the haze of tears clouding her sight. The lump in her throat grew heavier with each passing second. 

All she wanted was to go home. 

“Once I do this, I can go?” She asked, her voice thick with heartbreak, seeking assurance that this won’t all be for nothing. “I get to walk out of here and go back home to my mom?” 

Kraven paused for a beat too long. His silence was deafening. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as all the alarm bells started ringing in her head, “Sergei? Answer me.” 

When she got no response, Aylin whipped around to face him, overcome with dizziness at how fast she spun. Whatever numbing drugs were in that tea earlier had all worn off. She could feel every twinge of pain branching out through her entire body. Her knees felt weak like they were struggling to hold her own weight. Her rapid heartbeat sent shockwaves of anxiety penetrating through her chest. Kraven’s dark eyes bore into her with a look that told her all she needed to know. 

She was not going home. 

Ever.

“After you complete the ritual, I will bring you upstairs. I will bathe you, Calypso will reclean your wounds, and then I will bring you to bed to rest for the remainder of the night. While there, I will have you tied. You are not to be fully trusted. Not yet. You will not experience this basement again, as long as you behave, but you will not have the freedom you seek. You are mine now, Aylin. You made a promise to me. We will care for you, treat you kindly, but you will not leave until your deal is done. You have promises to keep and debts to fulfill.”

There was no freedom in her future. She was still a prisoner. She was naive to think she’d ever be anything other than that after experiencing this basement. This was going to break her mother. She wouldn’t ever be able to understand the weight of what Aylin did to get in this position. She would never understand where her daughter went or why she disappeared. Peter would think she abandoned him. He’d think she chose her guild over him. He’d never know just how alike they really were or how much comfort the memories of him brought her down here. He’d never know how much she fought just to keep him safe. She trimmed off parts of her soul for him and she’d only be remembered as another disappointment in his life. All the pain she suffered through was for nothing. All hope was lost as the reality of her situation took over. 

A single tear slipped through her tight hold to carve a path down her bruised cheek. 

She swallowed at the lump in her throat threatening to send her into hysterics. She was so weak, in so much pain, and so tired that her willpower to keep upright was draining. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering and turned around to face the girl. 

Her death would truly mean nothing when there was no hope left to be had. There was no escape in sight. 

Aylin wished they could trade places. Death was better than what Kraven had in store for her. She wished she was the one on the table instead, waiting for the dagger to hit, waiting for it all to end. Death was the only escape from Kraven. The girl had helped to grow her fire and give her hope when Aylin was at her lowest. Now, there was only darkness. For both of them. 

Give ‘em hell. 

The time for hell giving had passed. She had missed her shot. Even with Kraven’s dagger clutched tightly in her hand, she knew she couldn’t overpower him. The drugs had worn off. She could hardly hold her own arm above her head. Her shoulder muscles trembled as she wrapped both hands around the hilt and hovered it over the wolf girl’s chest. 

At least she could end the girl’s misery before Aylin’s own life was lost to Kraven. She’d be a murderer but at least the girl wouldn’t have to suffer any further at the hands of a Silver Colt.

She could have the freedom Aylin dreamed of. 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, mostly as an apology for herself since the girl’s eyes were closed. 

I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry I was a part of a life that caused you so much suffering. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to get either of us out. I’m sorry it was all for nothing. 

A massive portion of her carved up soul would be shed with this futile murder. 

She wasn’t sure how much soul she had left to hand over. 

Kraven placed a steading hand against Aylin’s hip, “We’ve wanted her dead for some time but something about having her blood in our system made it impossible to kill her ourselves. It was like that with Parker, too, all those years ago. Like it’s their last defense against death. We figured we might as well keep her around until someone took care of it for us. Your failed solo hunt was a perfect opportunity for that. Or so we thought.” He grazed his nails up her side as he molded his pelvis against her bottom. “All will be set right soon enough. Pierce down with enough force to break through her sternum then use the curve of the dagger to pull downwards towards her stomach and rip her open.”

Aylin could feel his cock twitching against her ass as he spoke. He was getting off on the thought of mutilation. She let her hatred for him blaze through her and push out the hopeless numbing that had taken hold. He ruined her life. He had a hand in her every move even before her own conception. He had lied and manipulated and murdered and tortured until he got what he wanted.

Well, he did it. He got his prize. Here she was, branded and claimed by him, doing exactly what he wanted like his obedient, little pet. She’d kill for him. She’d spread her legs for him. She’d birth his children. She’d lose every bit left of herself because he gave her no other options. Groomed until she was nothing but a shadow of who she once was. She wasn’t just killing the wolf girl today. She was killing herself along with her. 

Aylin steadied her shaking breath and closed her eyes. She mentally placed herself on the table instead. She looked down into her own hazel eyes and hated the woman she saw staring back. Her hair was clean and waved around her soft, rounded cheeks. There was no blood or bruising painting her skin, only an air of innocence written all over her face that she no longer recognized. There was sadness and grief too but nothing like the hollow emptiness she felt now. This was the woman she was before she left on her solo hunt. This was the woman who she had been before she found Peter and learned the truth. A woman kept in the dark and living a life of lies. 

She could never be this woman again. She could never go back. That Aylin was gone. Forever. 

With a rage driven, exasperated, feral scream ripping from her throat, she drove the dagger straight down with every bit of declining strength she had left in her body. Her stab landed true. The wolf girl never even opened her eyes to watch the incoming blow. She never cried out in pain. Her body simply jerked into itself at the sudden attack but quickly collapsed, listlessly, back against the table. 

A spray of warm blood splashed against Aylin’s face. It splattered across her clenched mouth. Without thinking, she instinctively licked at her lips to remove it, tasting the copper there. She stumbled backwards into Kraven in shock. Her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the floor. She couldn’t finish the job. Not yet. She was too weak. It had taken everything she had in her to make sure she killed the girl with a single strike. Her body was failing her as the adrenaline flooded through her veins. The clotting wounds on her back ripped open. Her blistering thigh rubbed with a searing fire against her other leg. A flash of horrified agony ricocheted through her body. She was unsure if the pain was physical or mental. 

It didn’t matter. 

The wolf girl was dead. Aylin was dead. She had killed them both. 

Murderer. 

Kraven was crouched by Aylin’s side. He was scooping her limp form into his lap as he sat on the floor. His hands were all over her. Grabbing at her ass. Groping her chest. Pushing against the thin fabric protecting between her thighs. Pulling back her underwear to probe his finger inside of her. His tongue was bathing over her blood splattered lips. Lapping it up. Licking along the blood on her cheeks. Pushing his blood stained tongue back into her mouth to forcefully tangle with hers. She could taste the metallic as it mixed with the salt from her flowing tears. She couldn’t move to stop the assault on her body. Her hands were shaking as she openly sobbed, losing all control, while he molested her. 

He was moaning into her mouth, “You look so sexy covered in blood. I’m doing everything in my power not to fuck you over the table but you need to finish what you started. Soon…soon…I can have you soon.” 

He was collecting her in his arms and pushing them to a stand as the basement spun around her. She couldn’t catch her breath as the whirlwind of spiraling emotions overtook her. Her vision fuzzed black around the edges. She felt like she might vomit except there was no food in her stomach to bring up. All that was there was the taste of acid burning up her throat. 

Kraven steadied her in front of the dead wolf girl, holding her upright by clutching onto her hips. There was a desperation of longing in his voice, “Now finish the job. Get her heart. Throw it in the fire. And we can finally put this behind us.”

She could never put this behind her. She would never shed herself from this guilt. 

Murderer.

Aylin stared down at the dagger sticking from the wolf girl’s chest. Dark, fresh blood soaked over her small breasts and trickled in thick, slow lines down her side to pool over the table and sink into the cracks in the wood. There was no name to remember her by. Nothing to memorialize her with. There would be no loved ones to mourn for her. No happy memories shared between old friends. No last goodbyes. They would burn her body until there was nothing left but the polluted memories Aylin held. She was gone with nothing to show for her sacrifice. 

Peter was right about the Silver Colts. 

They were a bunch of violent murders. She included herself in that group. She deserved everything Kraven did to her. She deserved to be punished for her crimes. 

Her slack hands were being placed back on the hilt of the bloody dagger by Kraven. He wanted her to finish this quickly so he could get to fucking her. 

She couldn’t move anymore. She was only remaining upright because his arm was wrapped around her waist. Everything about her was limp. 

“I know you’re weak but just a little more. We’re almost done. I’ll help guide yo-”

He was cut off by an ear splitting shriek from upstairs. 

They both froze and whipped their heads towards the sound. 

“Sergei!” Calypso was shouting. There was fear evident in her voice. It was an unusual, alarming sound to hear from her. From the look on Kraven’s face, it was one he didn’t hear often. They listened to her hurried footsteps banging above their heads as she ran towards the bookcase door to throw it open. “We’re under attack! Fire!” 

His brows furrowed with confusion and he pulled away from Aylin, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She tumbled against the table, holding herself upright with her forearms, and watched as he leaped up the stairs and disappeared from view. 

A hushed, breathless silence fell over the basement.

Aylin stared down at the wolf girl then back to the stairs. She was alone. Uncuffed. 

Her heart leapt with a sense of hope she thought was long lost. 

She could hear a frenzied commotion happening above her. Lots of bewildered shouting. Lots of stomping footsteps back and forth. 

Aylin pushed herself up and away from the table. She took a few stumbling steps towards the stairs before collapsing at the bottom. Her knees cracked against the concrete floor but she was shocked to find that there was hardly any pain as her bones made contact with the hard surface. She stretched out her back, waiting to feel the terrible sting of her wounds, but felt merely a light tickle. 

Her breath began to grow rapidly as a wave of warmth spread throughout her veins. She could feel the liquid fire traveling down her arms and into her finger tips. It spread throughout her chest and coursed down her legs as it consumed her entire body in its bathing glow. Aylin squeezed her eyes shut then reopened them, searching around the basement as if she was taking in an entirely new sight. What was once dark, damp, and dreary was now exploding with colors she never noticed before. She could make out each varied speckle of gray and brown and tan in the cobblestone walls. The light from the still burning fire raged in beautiful hues of deep orange and vibrant yellows. Light danced across each surface like a delicate ballet for her eyes to savor. 

A strength flowed through her. A power unlike any she’d ever felt. Aylin had never been a weak person apart from when she’d been tortured into submission. She had always been physically strong and capable. But this…this was different. This was an inhuman type of strength. Something was happening to her body. A change was taking over. 

She stared down at her bloodied hands in front of her, able to make out every line of her skin with a rapidly improving vision. She focused in on the different tints of red, some dark, some lighter, that stained her fingers. It wasn’t her blood. It was the wolf girl’s. 

Lycan blood. 

Aylin’s eyes widened as she staggered to her feet. She had tasted Lycan blood. It had only been a few drops but clearly that was enough for it to have an effect. It was morphing the very fabric of her being with each passing second that ticked by. Her strength returned to her in a way she never thought possible. 

The unmistakable smell of smoke reached her nose to drag her attention away from her shocking, new developments. Her sight darted up the stairs. The bookcase had been left open. Thick, gray and black smoke was starting to billow through the door and creep along the ceiling down the stairs. She could hear the blaze of roaring fire as clearly as if it was in the room with her. She could hear Kraven and Calypso moving in a panic above her. The accuracy of her acute hearing allowed her to place them directly in the kitchen. They were distracted. 

This was her one chance. 

Aylin paused for only a moment to take one last look at the Lycan girl, nodding her head in her direction as a silent sign of respect, before she darted up the stairs with a remarkable agility for someone who could hardly stand only moments ago. The last gift the girl had given her was that of her blood. It was a gift she would not waste. She would get out of this hell. She would regain back control. She would enact revenge on both their behalf. The Lycan would not die in vain. Aylin would make sure her death was not wasted. 

She burst across the Kravinoff hallway, emerging from the basement like a gazelle escaping a lion. Her elbow slammed into the opposite wall to break her stride. She wasn’t used to being able to run this fast. Her body surged with power and speed. It electrified her skin. Vibrant colors flashed across her vision, swirling around her, as she stumbled down the hallway. She could hear every panicked breath the couple took in the room beside her. The heavier, deeper one was Kraven’s, panting in anger, as he tried to douse the growing flames. The lighter, more birdlike breathes were Calypso, desperately spraying water from the kitchen sink hose. She could hear their every breath even over the sounds of the roaring fire. Through sound alone she could visualize the fire crawling up the kitchen curtains and licking at their house made of wood. If they weren’t fast, it would quickly eat up everything in its path. Smoke rolled out into the hallway and slithered with thick layers of black over her head. She crouched down to keep under it. Whatever had started the fire had been her saving grace. She may have killed off her old self in that basement but she would be reborn again thanks to the flames. A phoenix emerging from the ashes. 

Aylin made her way down the hall with a near silent stealth in the opposite direction of the kitchen fire until she landed at their backdoor. All it took was a quick switch of the lock for the door to push open. 

She leapt into the chilly night air and broke out into a sprint back towards her house. 

Running for her life.

Running for her freedom. 

Her lungs expanded and filled as she drew gulps of air into them. It tasted sweeter than honey. The night had never looked so bright like she was gifted with her own personal night vision. She would have guessed it was morning if it weren’t for the explosion of stars plastered in the sky through the treetops. They were brighter than ever before as she neared a clearing in the overhead branches. Beautiful. Stunning. She could have been looking at a photograph straight from the Webb Space Telescope. The sight was so mesmerizing, her frantic sprint slowed to a light jog. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the vibrant milky way splitting across the sky. 

She could stare at its hypnotic beauty for hours. 

The sounds of screams drew her back down to planet Earth. Her head darted around to search through the woods for the alarms. Through the trees she caught sight of another blazing fire down the dirt road from Kraven’s cabin. Behind that fire was another breaking out. Three different houses were ablaze. Distraught shrieks of chaos erupted in their little town. She could hear people running into the woods, running towards the destruction, all trying to extinguish the flames before their entire forest went up like a box of tinder. The Silver Colts were under attack. This was no accident. Those fires were intentional. They were being targeted. Houses were being set to burn while everyone slept. 

Her newly eagle eyed vision set straight towards her own home. They lived on the outer edge of town. It was quiet and dark in that direction. Her mother would still be safe. Aylin left the chaos behind her and sprinted, barefoot and nearly naked, through the forest towards her chance at freedom. 

The mossy ground under foot hardly touched her soles before she was pushing off again. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Her hair blew out from behind her like a cape as she took flight. She sprinted like her life depended on it. She ran from that basement with every ounce of strength the Lycan blood allowed her to have. Every smell consumed her, every breath felt like ice in her lungs, every sight swirled in pools of color around her until she no longer felt human. 

The spirit of the wolf soared beside her and carried her in record time to the one place she thought she might never see again. 

Her charming, humble cabin with its peeling, painted brown wood and faded, white trimmed windows. It had never looked so perfect, so dreamy, so inviting in her life. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she jogged towards her safe haven. Pine needles softened her tread under her bare feet to welcome her home. 

She slammed open the front door, accidentally ripping it from its hinges, and stumbled inside. She was drunk from the overwhelming power flooding her body. 

“Mom!” She screamed into the quiet house. “Mom! Wake up! We have to go! We have to get out! 

A small, black shadow darted out from under the couch and past her ankles in reaction to her cries. She jumped back with a shocked yelp, ready to pounce and attack the intruder until her sights settled on the frightened cat lurking under a table leg and eyeing her suspiciously. 

“Fuck, Kedi. Scared the shit outta me. Fuckin’ cat,” she mumbled, holding her hand over her chest.

Her breath was catching in her throat. Her heart was racing. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe the longer she stood still. Her body needed to run. Move. Jump. Climb. Fight. Anything. Her emotions all tumbled together along with every new smell. She could smell the sweet scent of lavender vanilla from her mother’s body lotion clinging to every surface. She could smell Kedi’s dander in his fur. She could smell the spinach and feta filled gözleme her mother had eaten for dinner still lingering in the air even though hours had passed since it was last cooked. 

“Mom!” 

The sound of her own voice was too shrill in her ears. She could hear a battering ram chorus of moth wings hitting against the porch light. Every pur rumbling inside Kedi’s chest, as he slinked out from under the table to rubbed his side across her legs, vibrated in her own head. Her heart beat was thumping in her ears at an unnaturally rapid pace. 

“Mom! Wake up! We have to…have to…go…” 

It was too loud. Her skull was cracking under the pressure of her own voice. The smells were making her dizzy. Colors blurred together and swirled in front of her spinning eyes. 

Aylin stumbled through the living room towards her mother’s bedroom door, shoving it open, and collapsing onto the cold, hardwood floor. 

Her bed was empty. The sheets were pulled back and tossed to the side like she had run from a sound sleep. Her slippers and robe were missing. She must have heard the commotion in the village. She must have heard the fires and gone to help. 

Except that Aylin would have met her along the way. She would have seen her running in the opposite direction. 

Something wasn’t right. 

Aylin’s breath was picking up speed into quick, short bursts. Her knees and forearms dug into the wood under her as she pressed her throbbing forehead down to the floor. Her entire world was shifting, tilting back and forth, until she felt like she couldn’t hold on any longer. What was left of her fingernails, clawed into the wood in a desperate attempt to try and keep her balance. 

There was too much stimulation piling on and suffocating her from every angle. There was no place she was safe, nowhere to hide, when it was her own body fighting against her. 

She clasped her palms tightly over her ears and let out a deafening shriek, curling tighter into herself, and begging for it all to be over. 

An arm snaked around her neck and a warm, strong hand tightened over her mouth to silence her.  

Her eyes shot open. She could hear everything but she couldn’t hear her attacker approaching.  In an instant, she scrambled out of the hold, flailing onto her back, to violently kick up at her assailant. 

Kraven had found her. He was going to drag her back. He was going to hurt her. He was going to-

Peter caught her ankle in his grasp before she could make contact with his chest and lunged on top of her. He pinned her to the ground, hand covering her mouth to keep her from screaming, and fastened his knees over her arms as he sat on her chest to stop her from striking him. 

“Shut up,” he hissed. “It’s just me.”

Aylin blinked up at him in confusion. All her senses that had been launched into overdrive, redirected themselves onto him instead. The edges of his outline waved in front of her bloodshot eyes but his face was as clear as it could get. His chocolate brown eyes had always seemed so dark and solid of color to her before. Now, they were flecked with specks of lighter caramels and circled his pupils with a honeyed bronze. They were nearly as bewitching as staring into the night sky. 

Her lips parted as she stared, wide eyed, up at him. Frozen in place. Mesmerized by the details of his face. His thick eyebrows raised in confusion. The way his nose dipped into a perfect slope. His succulent bottom lip peeking out from under his scraggly mustache. Every freckle over his tanned skin and every soft hair on his head was crafted with a transcended beauty. 

He was back. 

He was still here. 

He hadn’t left her. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he hurried her. “We have to get out of here. We have to-” He paused as he focused down on her face. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head ‘no’, still unable to pull her attention away from his eyes. They were like a cup of steaming hot coffee on a cold, rainy morning. Comforting and safe. If she dared to look away, the overwhelming senses would flood her again. He was her anchor keeping her from getting lost in the thrashing waves.  

“Your pupils are blown out. Your heart is racing. I can smell the adrenaline sweating out of you. Your skin is on fire,” he rolled off of her in horror, taking in the sight of her injuries and dried blood, slowly connecting the dots, “You look like…are you…” 

“Lycan blood,” she breathed. “I can feel everything and nothing at all. I’m falling and flying at the same time. I’m broken and whole. My brain is on fire. I feel like…like….’m gonna…” 

“Have a heart attack? Because that’s exactly what’s about to happen,” he hissed through worried, clenched teeth. “Your heart is about to explode if you don’t calm yourself. Not everyone is built to handle wolf blood, Aylin. It’s going to kill you if you can’t calm down.”

Her skin was tingling and breaking out a cold sweat. An uncomfortable, squeezing pressure gripped at her chest as her heart raced. Her breath felt constricted in her throat. Waves of panic rocked over her. 

Kraven was going to find her. 

Her mother was missing. 

She killed the Lycan girl. 

Murderer. 

“Peter,” she whimpered. “‘M don’ feel good.” 

“Fuck,” his distressed eyes darted around the room before landing back on her paling face. “Okay. I need you to listen to me, Aylin. You need to calm your body. You over stressed yourself. Pushed yourself too far. I’m gonna sit ya up, ‘kay?” 

He wrapped a protective arm behind her neck to avoid the wraps covering her back and helped her into a sitting position. He carefully leaned her back against her mother’s bed. He knelt down between her open legs and gently grasped her face in his large hands, covering her ears to help muffle the overpowering noises hitting her from every direction. 

“Follow my breaths,” he whispered. Even with her ears covered, she could still hear him perfectly. “Breathe with me.”

Peter pressed his forehead against her sweat drenched one, locking his eyes with her, as he demonstrated taking a deep, long breath. She held onto the intoxicating color of his eyes like a drowning person clings to a life preserve and followed his lead. 

Deep inhale for four seconds. Hold it for seven. Exhale for eight. 

Repeat. 

Inhale. Four. Hold it. Seven. Exhale. Eight. 

Peter continued the process until the sounds of her pounding heart started to slow back to a normal rhythm. The adrenaline leaving her body caused her to slump over with her cheek resting on the cool floor as he gently released her from his hold. She curled herself into the fetal position. 

The weight of Peter’s heavy hand, his palm pressing against her forehead, feeling her temperature, gave her the tiniest warmth of comfort. She let her eyes close and leaned into his touch. He would protect her. If Kraven came calling, he would keep her safe. 

He belonged to her. That’s what she had told him right before she dragged him from his confinement. Peter Parker was hers. She was safe with her Lycan but he wasn’t safe in the Silver Colts territory. They had to leave before the fires were put out. They had to get out before Kraven noticed her missing. Their time here was limited. 

The fight was leaving her body. She felt like her entire soul was draining out of her pores as exhaustion replaced the adrenaline. 

“I have to find my mom,” she muttered through sleepy breaths. “I have to get us out of here.” 

He swallowed, his attention flashing between his concern for her wellbeing and keeping an attentive eye on what was happening outside of the cabin, “I think the Lycan blood is leaving your system. Your heart has calmed down. You’re going to be okay. The worst of it is over but you’re going to crash once it’s completely gone. It’ll suck out every last bit of energy you have left. I have to get you out of here before you’re out cold.” 

He wasn’t listening to what she was saying. 

“My mom-” 

“How much blood did you get?” He asked, interrupting her. 

“Jus’ a drop or two,” she murmured. “Peter. My mom. Hafta find her. Gotta get’us out. All of us.” 

“Well, she’s not here, is she? We can’t go looking for her or wait for her to come back! There’s no time!” He shot angrily in her direction. He pushed himself up to his feet and paced anxiously around the room. “Where are your car keys?” 

Aylin tried to lift her head off the floor but was overcome with a nauseating dizziness.

“Left ‘em on the table on the porch before…before…he…”

She let her words trail off, unable to finish her sentence. 

Peter darted from the bedroom in search of the keys. She groaned. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t going to look for her mother. He couldn’t be seen out there. She couldn’t be seen here. There was no time. Nesrin would have to find her own way out but she knew nothing of the true horrors lying under the surface of this guild.  

Aylin pushed herself onto shaky legs. She clutched onto her mother’s mattress as the room spun. Her eyes squeezed shut until she was able to steady her vision once more. When her eyes reopened, they focused in on Kedi sitting quietly on the mattress in front of her, gazing at her curiously with wide, amber eyes. He got up and headbuttted the top of his head into her arm as if willing her to keep moving. 

“Thanks, bud,” she whispered down to him. “‘M okay. I’ll be okay. Jus’ hafta go away for a little while. I got’ta warn mom.” 

She gathered what was left of her strength to shuffle towards the door and out into their small kitchen. Through the smudged, glass window over their sink, she could see out into the dark forest. Her sight wasn’t as vivid as had it been when she first ran from the basement. It was already settling back to its normal state. A blazing fire in the far distance illuminated through the dark trees. There was only one now. She couldn’t tell who’s house it belonged to but, whoever it was, there wouldn’t be much left once it burned out. The entire village would be focused on helping their neighbors but, once the fire was under control, they would be out for blood. A hunt like never before would begin. The village had never been directly attacked like this before. The Silver Colts would not take this lightly. Her and Peter needed to be as far away as possible. Any Lycan within the area, or anyone seen conspiring with one, would have their head on a spike. Literally. 

She wondered if it was Peter who started those fires. 

It must have been. 

With a surge of unmistakable devotion, Aylin reached for the empty grocery notepad left hanging on the refrigerator. She grabbed a pen from the kitchen drawer and scribbled a quick note. 

“Take dad’s truck and get out. Don’t speak to anyone. Trust no one. Pack as little as possible and run as fast as you can. Go to a hotel. Somewhere with people. Not safe here. I love you. I’ll find you again soon. -A” 

Peter had saved her. He had given her a way to escape. He had taken her from the clutches of her prison just like she had done for him. He did not abandon her and showed up when she needed him most. Her infatuation for him was growing. 

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he didn’t belong to her. They belonged to each other. 

Aylin took a step away from the note and stumbled backward. The pain was starting to return. She was so tired. So broken. Her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer. Everything was draining just like Peter said.  

Her sight blackened around the edges as her knees gave out. 

Before she could hit the kitchen floor, Peter wrapped her up in his muscular arms. The last thing she felt was the feeling of safety as he cradled her to his chest, his voice echoing in her drifting mind. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

[CHAPTER EIGHT]

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[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Waterlogged Lake Gregory

An astronaut aboard the International Space Station captured this photo of Lake Gregory in the remote Great Sandy Desert of northwestern Australia. Lake Gregory, at 16 kilometers (10 miles) wide, is the largest and only permanent waterbody in a network of brackish lakes and associated wetlands. The water displays blue and green hues and is surrounded by an extensive field of tan and orange-toned linear dunes.

Lake Gregory, also known as Paraku or Paruku, and its surrounding wetlands are part of the Paruku Indigenous Protected Area, which is managed by its Traditional Owners, including the Walmajarri, Jaru, and Kukatja peoples. The area has a thriving tourist presence.

Sturt Creek supplies water to the lake from the north. The image depicts a gray-brown delta where the river flows into the lakes and wetlands. A smaller feeder river channel enters Lake Gregory from the northeast. The irregular shapes of numerous, slightly lighter-toned burned areas mark the linear dunes. A small smoke plume is visible north of Lake Gregory.

The abundance of water visible in the photo indicates that the lake system in October 2024 was unusually full. The excess can be attributed to the region’s highest recorded rainfall, which occurred upstream in the Sturt Creek drainage basin during the prior wet season.

For comparison, a much smaller extent of water is visible in the satellite image (inset), acquired by the OLI (Operational Land Imager) on Landsat 8 in October 2021. The 2021 image represents a more typical year when many of the wetland areas are completely dry, exposing gray and white salt flats.

Faint indications of unpaved roads cross the feeder channel. Some tourists traverse the area’s roads to explore the Canning Stock Route—a track that passes along the western side of the lakes along which cattle drives once took place. The Lake Gregory System is listed as a wetland of national importance due to its cultural and ecological significance, including the support of migratory and nesting birds.

Astronaut photograph ISS072-E-9997 was acquired on October 1, 2024, with a Nikon D4 digital camera using a focal length of 170 millimeters. It is provided by the ISS Crew Earth Observations Facility and the Earth Science and Remote Sensing Unit, Johnson Space Center. The image was taken by an externally mounted camera on the ISS during Expedition 72. The image has been cropped and enhanced to improve contrast, and lens artifacts have been removed. The International Space Station Program supports the laboratory as part of the ISS National Lab to help astronauts take pictures of Earth that will be of the greatest value to scientists and the public, and to make those images freely available on the Internet. Additional images taken by astronauts and cosmonauts can be viewed at the NASA/JSC Gateway to Astronaut Photography of Earth. NASA Earth Observatory image (inset) by Michala Garrison, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Caption by Justin Wilkinson, Texas State University, Amentum-JETS II Contract at NASA-JSC.