Page 21 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 21

D orian

Three a.m. Four. Five. Dawn bleeds through the blinds. I haven’t slept.

Can’t.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Hair fanned out in a halo of blood. That fucking smile. “I’m glad. Me too.”

I tear the sheets off, stained with the stench of whiskey and sweat.

The bottle is empty. The second one too. Dragons can’t get drunk. Just another cosmic joke. We can burn cities. Level mountains. Live for centuries.

But we can’t escape our own fucking minds.

My apartment is a war zone. Shattered glass. Splintered furniture. Blood—mine—dried on the walls where I put my fist through brick. The dragon in me wanted to burn it all. Burn everything. Turn this city to ash and scatter it to the wind.

But she wouldn’t want that.

Juno.

Even thinking her name feels like swallowing glass.

I shower mechanically. Cold water. The silk scarf—the scarf she left behind—is the only thing I handle with care. I knot it around my neck, over the dragon claw marks I couldn’t be bothered to heal.

Let them scar. Let everything scar.

In the mirror, a stranger stares back. Hollow eyes. Unshaven jaw. The dragon tattoos on my chest seem to writhe with my rage, the ink suddenly too tight for my skin.

Centuries of existence, and I’ve never felt… this . This hollow. This raw. This fucking angry .

They took her from me. The Syndicate. The Circle. I don’t care who is responsible. They’re all going to pay.

Every. Last. One.

The phone rings, and I scowl as Luke’s name flashes across the screen. But now’s not the time to be ignoring calls.

“What?”

“Are you…?” he starts cautiously before pausing and changing tack. “We’re meeting at Lydia’s place in Medina in an hour.”

“Fine.” I end the call and reach for my bike keys.

The Ducati roars to life beneath me as I grip the handlebars, feeling the power thrumming through my veins. I shoot out of my apartment’s barking bay, tires screeching against the asphalt, and let the adrenaline fuel every reckless turn.

The wind slices against my skin, cold and sharp, but I welcome it like an old friend. Each twist of the throttle sends me flying down streets, tearing through intersections and dodging pedestrians who barely have time to react.

As I hit the freeway, the world opens up around me. It’s beautiful, but it only reminds me of how fragile this life is—how quickly it can turn to shit.

I slam on the brakes as I approach Medina’s gates, gravel flying beneath my tires as I skid to a stop. Lydia’s mansion looms ahead—a fortress shrouded in opulence and secrecy. I cruise along the drive toward the parking area, kill the engine, and swing off my bike, storming toward those heavy wooden doors.

The scent of cedar and old money greets me as I enter, tension hanging thick in the air like smoke after a fire. Farrel Ludlow stands at one end of the entrance hall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Lydia’s waiting.” He gestures down a corridor lined with portraits that seem to watch my every move.

I give a tight nod as I set off in the direction of the vast room she uses for clan meetings. Ludlow’s footsteps ring behind me, but I don’t bother to look back at him.

Serena meets me along the way, her usual ice-queen demeanor softening.

“Dorian, I—”

“Don’t.” The word cuts like a blade. “Just… don’t.”

She nods once, a soldier recognizing a line not to cross. “They’re gathering in the main hall. Caleb’s bringing the Rossewyn woman.”

“Elena,” I correct automatically. “Her name’s Elena.”

His mate.

At least he gets to have one.

I brush past her into the reception area, where clusters of clan members whisper in corners. They fall silent as I pass, eyes tracking me like I’m a bomb with a visible timer.

Let them stare. Let them wonder how the infamous playboy looks when he’s been gutted.

Daniel intercepts me, his young face etched with guilt. “Dorian, I heard about—”

“Did you know?” I ask, my voice deadly quiet. “About the attack? Did the Circle tell you it was coming?”

He blanches. “No, I swear. I would have warned—”

“Don’t lie to me, Blair.” I step closer, feeling my eyes shift to slits. “Not today.”

“I’m not lying.” He holds his ground, though fear rolls off him in waves. “I was Circle, yes. But this? This level of action from the Syndicate? This is new. This is… wrong.”

I study him, searching for deceit, finding only youthful disillusionment. “What have you heard?”

“Only rumors.” He glances around nervously. “The Circle and the Syndicate have always been enemies. But something’s changed. There’s talk of a… an alliance.”

“Between Malakai and the Syndicate?” The concept is so absurd I almost laugh. Almost. “That’d be like oil and water.”

“Or fire and gasoline,” Daniel mutters. “Explosive.”

I absorb this, mind racing through implications. “Who would broker such a thing? What common ground could they possibly have?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “But whatever it is, it was worth exposing us to the human world. Worth breaking centuries of secrecy.”

Worth Juno’s life.

Luke approaches, his massive frame blocking the light. “Council’s starting,” he says, then pauses, taking in my appearance. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck off, Kenan.”

His eyebrows rise at my tone, but he just grunts and jerks his head toward the meeting room. “Suit yourself. But you might want to head in.”

The meeting room drips with old wealth—gold wallpaper, ancestral portraits, chandelier throwing fractured light across faces. I slip in silently, claiming a shadowed corner, watching.

Lydia sits at the head of the table, her hair coiled on her head in a silver braid. Luke takes a seat beside her, folding his arms across his chest like he’s holding back the apocalypse. Farrel and Serena flank them, with various elders filling the remaining seats.

I track without interest as Caleb and Elena enter, her small frame tucked against his side. The mate mark is fresh on his neck—a spiral scar that mirrors one on her collarbone. I should feel something about this. Happiness for my brother, perhaps. Concern for what it means.

I feel nothing but the hollow space where my heart used to be.

Their conversation washes over me in waves. Luke’s antagonism. Lydia’s calm authority. Caleb’s protective stance. Words like “loyalty” and “bond” and “clan.”

“So the human thinks she’s one of us,” says Luke.

Caleb snarls a warning, but Lydia lifts her hand. “The Stone has spoken. Caleb has chosen. Show us your mark, girl.”

She shifts her sweater to show the mark on her throat more clearly, and our elders lean forward to examine it.

“The mate mark,” Lydia says softly. “Craven and Rossewyn. The circle is complete.”

“So, what—I get a membership card now?” Elena is all cocky self-confidence; pretty impressive for a human facing a room full of dragons. My brother chose well.

Lydia considers her for a second, then continues, “The bond is forged. The Stone accepts her. But loyalty must be earned.” When she slides our ritual dagger toward the woman, I watch with something bordering on interest.

My brother growls, but his mate stops him.

“It’s fine,” she says, picking up the blade. Her jaw tightens but she gives no other indication of the heat that must be coming off the hard steel. It’s dragon-forged, made to burn. “What’s the play? Blood oath? Trial by combat? Tea ceremony?”

“A simple question,” Lydia says. “Why do you fight?”

The room falls silent, all eyes on this human woman who’s somehow inserted herself into our world. Into my brother’s soul.

“Because someone has to burn the rot away,” Elena answers.

Blunt. Brave. Something in my dead heart twitches in recognition.

With a nod, Lydia instructs her to put blood onto the Heartstone. The pair had taken it from the chamber when Caleb saved Elena from Malakai, and now they seem reluctant to let it out of their sight, bringing it with them to this meeting. Without hesitating, the female slices a cut across her palm, allowing blood to stream onto the crystal.

And the Stone reacts.

Light flares, blinding and intense. Images shimmer in the smoke—ancient battles, fractured crystals.

Elena’s eyes widen with shock, and she gasps, jerking away from the Stone. “What the hell was that?”

Caleb looks ready to go to war at the sight of his mate showing signs of distress, but I cock my head, interest piqued.

“What?” Luke presses her.

“I saw… I saw…” She swallows hard. “It cracked.” She stares at the Heartstone and then back at Caleb.

She saw it crack?

Interesting.

How could she possibly know that?

The energy in the room shifts, tightens.

“She has the gift of sight,” someone whispers from among the group.

“The Lost Shard,” Lydia confirms, her face grave. “A fragment split during the First War. Its location died with Lyria.”

Caleb steps closer to Elena. “But now?”

“We know Malakai’s attack wasn’t random. He sought her .” Lydia nods at Elena.

“When we faced him last night before he ran away, he said the Heartstone wasn’t the only source of power,” Elena says.

“He’ll want the Shard, too,” Lydia says.

“So we find it first,” Elena says with that naive human confidence.

“We?” I say from the shadows, feeling every eye turn to me. Let them see what grief looks like on a dragon. Let them see what’s coming for our enemies. “Bold words for a rookie.”

“Dorian…” Caleb warns. I shrug at him, waiting for more fall-out, but it doesn’t come. I guess I get a special pass today. He addresses the others, “If he’s hunting the Shard, it’s already in play.”

“Then I’ll find it,” I say, the words burning in my throat like venom.

Lydia arches a brow. “Alone?”

“Watch me.” I push off the wall, shoulders tight with purpose. “I owe her that much.”

The room falls quiet. They all know who I mean. The whispers about the human girl crushed in Craven Towers have already circulated. The coffee shop server. The nobody. The girl who died saying she loved a monster.

Lydia shakes her head. “The Shard answers to Rossewyn blood. It will call to you, Elena. But Malakai’s spies will, too.” She glances between me, Caleb, and Elena. “This task will rest upon the three of you.”

I open my mouth to object—this is something I want to do alone—but Lydia raises a hand.

“It’s too important for your ego to take hold here, Dorian.” Her smile softens the rebuke.

I give a curt nod, though the argument is far from over.

“I’m not sure I know what to do with my power,” says Elena, which only confirms my conviction that she’s not right for the job.

“You will learn,” says Lydia. “We will show you. And let’s face it; it’s in your genes.” She walks to Elena and takes her hand. “Welcome to the clan, Rossewyn. Try not to burn it down.”

“Too late,” says my brother, looking smug.

I’m happy for him; I truly am. But right now, it’s hard to feel anything but rage over this whole fucking fiasco. This isn’t a time for celebration. It’s a time for war.

I’m already planning my exit, my hunt, when Caleb’s hand lands on my shoulder. I stiffen under his touch.

“We’ll talk after,” he says quietly.

“Nothing to talk about.”

His grip tightens. “Like hell. You’re not going off half-cocked on some suicide mission.”

I meet his eyes finally, letting him see the emptiness in mine. “I’m already dead, Caleb. The rest is just details.”

“Details that we have to deal with, brother. Your woman.” He lets that sink in, letting me know that he’s acknowledging what she meant to me. “She needs to be…” His voice trails off, and he looks at the floor.

Understanding dawns, and bile rises just as quickly. “Disposed of?”

“Attended to, Dorian. Unless you’d like to leave this to her family?”

“She had no one.” My voice cracks.

No one aside from a psychotic ex and a dragon who got her killed.

His expression softens. “The authorities will handle this as a suspicious death, Dorian. I don’t think you want to leave this to them. Besides, our people are going to have to cover this up somehow. They’ll probably try to play it out as an accident.”

I jerk my head, suppressing a shudder at the thought of Juno being used in some kind of whitewash campaign.

“I’ll handle it,” I grind out.

He heaves a sigh. “Dorian, if you—”

“I said I’ll handle it.” I shrug off his hand and walk out, the scarf around my neck burning like a brand. Whatever rage I felt has just been ramped up a thousand-fold.

The Syndicate, the Circle—they thought they were declaring war on a clan. But they’ve awakened something far worse.

A dragon with nothing left to lose.