Page 16 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 16

D orian

I arrive at the boardroom twenty minutes early, hoping to get my head straight before the others show up. I’d managed to stall things till we had more useful details to share, but after all that’s happened, they need to be brought up to speed with what we’re now facing.

Of course, Caleb is already here, his back to me as I toss my phone onto the boardroom table.

Juno’s face lights up my lock screen—a candid shot I took at the café, her head tilted back in laughter, unaware of the camera. I flip the phone over, but it’s too late. The image is burned into my mind, alongside the memory of her terrified expression when she caught a glimpse of my beast. It’s a pain that I feel in the coiling and uncoiling of the dragon within me. The creature who seems as drawn to her as I am.

Caleb finally turns to me, and I slouch in my chair, deliberately projecting an air of casual disinterest that I know irritates him. It’s our oldest dynamic—his rigid control versus my apparent lack of it.

“You’re early,” he remarks, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in my disheveled appearance.

“Am I?” I glance at my watch, then shrug. “Guess I am.”

I reach for my phone, pretending to scroll through email while actually checking if Juno has sent any texts. Nothing. Not since she dropped that bombshell.

Tyler. The man is the worst kind of scum… and he broke her. But she picked herself up. Made herself stronger and braver in spite of him. And now I’m screwing with all of it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Caleb asks, his tone sharper than usual. Which is pretty fucking sharp.

“Nothing,” I reply without looking up. “Just tired.”

“Long night?”

I hesitate, thinking of Juno’s terrified face, of Tyler’s smug one before I wiped it off, of the hours spent pacing my warehouse loft trying to figure out how to fix this mess.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Let me guess. It’s a woman.” There’s a dismissive edge to his voice that scrapes against my already raw nerves. There’s nothing about Juno that deserves to be dismissed.

“None of your business,” I snap, unable to keep the edge from my voice. I can feel his eyes on me, assessing, calculating.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and for a moment, genuine concern breaks through his leader facade.

I meet his gaze briefly before looking away. “Fine.”

I get the feeling he’d press further, but the other clan members begin to file in. The meeting begins, and I force myself to focus as Caleb outlines the situation with the viral video. On the screen, Mara’s carefully edited footage plays—shadows that could be wings, distorted audio that hints at secrets hidden in plain sight.

“Who is this woman?” Serena demands.

“A conspiracy theorist,” I answer. I’ve spent several hours diving deep into Mara’s online presence, trying to gauge the extent of the damage. “But her reach is extensive. Millions of views already, and the numbers are climbing.”

The discussion devolves into finger-pointing and accusations. Luke, predictably, turns his ire on Caleb. The others are equally scathing. We’re not a particularly forgiving species.

“Where were you when this happened?” Serena asks him. “Shouldn’t you have prevented this?”

“I was dealing with another situation,” Caleb replies, his voice too controlled.

“Another situation?” Luke snaps. “Your absences are becoming frequent, Caleb. Perhaps you need to reassess your priorities.”

I watch my brother carefully, noting the flash of heat in his eyes, the way his fingers twitch against the table. He’s holding back, containing something powerful and volatile.

“My priorities are exactly where they need to be. Our focus now should be on mitigating the damage,” he snaps.

“He’s right,” Lydia steps in. “Pointing fingers won’t solve anything.”

“So, what’s the plan?” asks Serena. “Do we suppress the information? Issue denials?”

“Trying to erase it will only draw more attention,” I say. “Streisand effect and all that.”

“Streisand effect?” Serena glances at me.

“You know. When you try to hide something and just end up drawing more attention to it?”

Luke huffs a breath. “Perfect. Just what we need. So what do we do?”

“Perhaps we control the narrative.” Lydia steeples her fingers in front of her. “Redirect the curiosity elsewhere. Flood the internet with conflicting theories to dilute the impact.”

“That could work,” Serena says. “Use our resources to create noise.”

Caleb nods. “And we need to strengthen our security.” He indicates a folder on the table beside him. “There have been reports of increased activity around Craven Towers—suspicious figures watching the building.”

“Malakai’s access codes have been used again,” I add. “Despite being revoked.”

“Impossible.” Luke’s fists curl on the table. “He must have inside help.”

“Agreed,” Caleb says. “We may have a mole within our ranks.”

Silence falls like a blanket as we all contemplate what this could mean. We live in constant fear of how our enemies will try to undermine us next. This gives them the perfect opportunity.

“Could the Syndicate be mobilizing?” Serena asks quietly, echoing my fears.

“All signs point to it,” Caleb says. But even as he says it, his eyes shift to the window, as if there’s someplace else he’d rather be.

I’d call him out on it—after all, it’s what he’d do to me—but my own focus isn’t much better. Juno’s words from our last encounter echo in my mind.

“I don’t want to feel afraid of the people I bring into my world, Dorian.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. She’s spent years rebuilding her life after Tyler, creating a safe space for herself, only to have me crash into it with my secrets and my dragon. I’ve become exactly what she feared—another man who can’t be trusted. My entire life has been built on lies and half-truths.

“Dorian?” Lydia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Your input on the security measures?”

I straighten, clearing my throat. “We need to deploy counter-narratives immediately. Make Mara look like a desperate attention-seeker. Our media contacts can plant stories questioning her credibility, her mental health, her motives.”

“Ruthless,” Serena remarks with a hint of approval.

“Necessary,” I counter. “We need to discredit her before her followers start organizing physical investigations. The last thing we need is amateur dragonhunters showing up at our doorstep.”

“What about the mole?” It’s Luke again. “We can’t just focus on the threat outside when there’s one within our walls.”

The meeting continues, but I find my attention repeatedly drawn to Caleb. He’s struggling—his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table, his breathing carefully controlled. At one point, I swear I see the faintest wisp of smoke escape his nostrils.

Something’s happening to him. Something to do with Elena.

“Caleb?” Lydia says. Clearly, I’m not the only one who’s aware of my brother’s distraction.

All eyes turn to him.

“Is everything alright?” she presses.

“Fine.” His tone is curt.

She observes him for a moment, then says, “We were discussing how to address the potential mole.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “We need to initiate an internal investigation. Discreetly. If Malakai has sympathizers, we need to root them out.”

“Agreed,” I say, narrowing my eyes on him.

“Meeting adjourned,” he says before anyone can continue. “Sloane will coordinate our next steps.”

This is not like my brother at all. He usually micromanages fucking everything.

The meeting concludes with assignments distributed. I stick with coordinating our media response and investigating how Malakai accessed our systems despite his codes being revoked.

As the others file out, I linger, watching Caleb’s tense exchange with Lydia. Their voices are too low to hear, but the concern on her face is evident. I’m equally concerned; I need to speak to him, too.

While I wait, I check in with the communications team to follow up on the rebuttal campaign before calling the security team to dig into Malakai’s access codes.

When Caleb finally emerges, I’m lingering in the hallway.

“Thought you might need a drink,” I say, offering my flask. It’s one I’ve always kept on hand when I’ve wanted to irk him with another display of my lack of responsibility. Now it just feels like a foolish prop.

He shakes his head. “Not now.”

I fall into step beside him, studying his profile. “You looked like you were about to burst into flames back there.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Hard to miss when the temperature in the room rises ten degrees.”

We walk in silence for a moment before I gather the courage to speak the truth we’re both avoiding. This is about the woman. He’s fighting his feelings. And the more I watch him, the more I think this is a problem.

“You’re making a mistake pushing her away,” I say quietly.

He shoots me a sharp glance. “Stay out of it.”

“I can’t.” I stop, forcing him to face me. “You think I don’t recognize the signs? You’re tearing yourself apart.” As I say the words, I know they’re coming from a place I understand all too well. Right now, I feel like I’m being torn in a dozen different directions myself.

“Enough,” he warns.

I ignore him, pushing further. “Remember what happened to Dad? His isolation, his refusal to let anyone in—that’s what led to… what happened.” I don’t say the words “heart attack.” It’ll only set him off.

“This isn’t about him.”

“Isn’t it?” I meet his gaze directly. “The clan needs strength, Caleb. Not separation.” And right now, what he’s doing to himself is causing more tension than he realizes.

“I’m doing what’s necessary.”

“For whom? The clan—or your pride?”

His temper flares visibly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” I step closer, thinking of Juno, of the connection I felt with her despite the short time I’ve known her. “You’re not the only one who’s ever cared about someone.”

“What do you mean?”

I hesitate, unwilling to expose my own vulnerability. “It’s not important. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re screwing this up.”

He grinds his teeth. “I have to protect the clan.”

“Maybe protecting the clan means accepting help. Accepting her.”

He turns away. “I don’t have time for this.”

As he checks his phone, his entire demeanor shifts. Fear flashes across his face—not for himself, but for someone else. For her.

“Shit,” he mutters.

I catch up to him. “What is it?”

“Malakai’s been spotted near the outskirts of the city.”

“Alone?”

“Unknown. But he’s too close for comfort.”

Something changes in his expression—a sudden alertness, like he’s hearing a sound no one else can detect.

“I need to check on something,” he says abruptly.

I grab his arm. “Caleb, wait.”

“I have to go.”

“You’re running to her,” I say, the pieces clicking together.

“She’s in danger.”

“You don’t know that.” Although something in me tells me that he does.

“I can feel it,” he snaps, pulling free. “Something’s wrong.”

He can feel it? I frown at him.

Fuck . This is looking a lot like mate anxiety. Could it be? With a human?

Without waiting for a response, he breaks into a run, heading for the nearest exit.

Goddammit!

Why does he fucking run off like this all the time? I curse under my breath before following, but by the time I reach the parking bay, he’s already speeding away in his car.

I stand there, watching his taillights disappear into the gloom, a strange mix of emotions churning inside me. Envy for his certainty. Fear for what his actions might mean for the clan. And something else—a grudging respect for his willingness to follow his instincts, consequences be damned.

It’s something I need to do, too, because right now, my instincts are screaming at me.

Reaching for my phone, my finger moves over the screen, typing a text.

Can we talk? In person.

Such simple words that could change everything. I stare at them, weighing my options, my responsibilities, my duty to the clan against the pull I feel toward her.

But watching my brother race off to Elena, driven by a connection he can’t control or deny, makes me question everything I thought I knew about duty and priorities.

Maybe there’s room for both—for protecting what matters and pursuing what we want.

Her response comes a minute later, but it feels like a lifetime:

There’s nothing more to say.

Pulling in a breath, I make a decision I pray I’m not going to regret:

There’s plenty to say. I’m going to tell you everything. Now.

There’s another long pause, and then the dots start moving.

How much is everything?

I take another deep breath.

All of it.

This time, her answer is almost immediate.

Fine. I’ll meet you at your place. If I’m going to know who you are, I’d like to know how you live, too.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a smile tugs at my mouth as I send my address to her. I’ve never taken a woman to my home before, but I like the idea of having her in it. And revealing myself completely.

She deserves the truth.

I don’t know how I’m going to explain the impossible reality of my existence. The risks are enormous. The consequences, potentially catastrophic.

But for the first time in my life, I understand what drives my brother’s rigid sense of responsibility. When something matters enough, you protect it—not by pushing it away, but by bringing it closer, by sharing your strength, your truth, your vulnerability.

The clan always comes first. That hasn’t changed.

But maybe the definition of “clan” is broader than I’ve been taught to believe.