Page 27 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 27

D orian

Blood drips from the Circle loyalist’s split lip, splattering onto the steel table between us. The sound of each drop hitting metal echoes in the sparse room; one of those left untouched by the violence of the past attack.

I circle the chair where our captive sits, bound with chains made of dragon-forged steel. The metal glows faintly orange where it touches his skin, preventing any shift. Daniel brought him in an hour ago, lured by false promises to discuss Circle collusion.

“Let’s try this again,” I say, keeping my voice deceptively soft. “Where is Malakai hiding the Shard?”

The loyalist—Vance, according to Daniel—spits blood onto the floor and smirks. His left eye is swollen shut, but the right one gleams with defiance.

“The Circle grows stronger every day, Craven.” He shifts in his chair, the chains sizzling against his wrists. “While you play corporate games, we’re reclaiming our birthright.”

I lean in close, letting him see the glow of my eyes, the hint of scales rippling beneath my skin. My beast is close.

“Your birthright? The Circle is nothing but Malakai’s personal cult. And he’s nothing but a crippled old dragon clinging to dead traditions.”

Vance laughs, the sound harsh and grating. “You’ve forgotten what it means to be a dragon. You and your brother both—playing human, building glass towers while our kind dwindles into obscurity.”

My hand moves before I can stop it, claws extending as I grab his throat. “My kind is doing just fine. Yours, however…” I squeeze just enough to make his eyes bulge. “Your time’s running out.”

Caleb’s voice cuts through the room, cool and controlled. “Dorian.”

I release Vance with a shove that sends his chair skidding backward. Caleb stands by the one-way mirror, arms crossed over his immaculate suit. Even in a building under repair, with no employees present, he dresses like he’s headed to a board meeting. His composure only fuels my rage.

“He’s not talking,” I growl.

“He will.” Caleb steps forward, his movements precise, calculated. He addresses Vance directly. “The Syndicate approached the Circle, didn’t they? Offered an alliance?”

Vance’s smirk falters slightly. Interesting.

“Malakai would never align with those clanless mongrels,” he spits, but there’s something off in his tone.

“Wouldn’t he?” Caleb circles the table, mirroring my earlier movement but with more restraint. “If it meant accessing the Heartstone? If it meant control over all dragonkind?”

Daniel shifts uncomfortably by the door. “The Circle has always considered the Syndicate traitors to dragonkind,” he offers. “Malakai called them ‘blood-traitors’ who’d sold their heritage for power.”

“People change,” Elena says from her position near Caleb. “Especially when they’re desperate.”

Vance’s eyes flick to Elena, hatred flashing across his features. “The witch speaks,” he sneers. “Tell me, Rossewyn, how does it feel to be Caleb Craven’s pet?”

The temperature in the room spikes as Caleb’s control slips. I feel a surge of satisfaction seeing my perfect brother’s composure crack. Elena places a hand on his arm, and the heat recedes.

“I’d rather be his partner than Malakai’s puppet,” she replies evenly.

I slam my palms on the table, making Vance flinch despite his bravado. “Enough games. The attack on Craven Towers was a Syndicate plot. We identified their operatives in the footage. You’re working together.”

“You know nothing,” Vance hisses.

“I know an innocent woman died because of your fucking alliance,” I snarl, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. The dragon in me surges forward, scales erupting along my forearms, claws extending fully. “I know someone’s going to pay for that. Starting with you.”

Fear finally flickers in Vance’s eyes as I lean closer, heat radiating from my skin.

“I can make this very painful and very slow. Or you can tell me where Malakai is hiding, and I’ll consider making it quick.”

“You won’t kill me,” he says, but uncertainty creeps into his voice. “Your brother wouldn’t allow it. The precious Craven code—”

“My brother,” I interrupt, “isn’t the one you should be worried about right now.” I trace one claw along his jawline, drawing a thin line of blood. “I just buried the woman I loved. The Craven code means fuck-all to me now.”

Caleb doesn’t contradict me. Smart man. He knows I’m hanging by a thread.

Vance swallows hard, his arrogance finally cracking. “Malakai doesn’t share his plans with foot soldiers,” he says, voice dropping. “But there’s talk. Rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?” Elena presses.

“About a weapon. Something that could bring the Craven clan to its knees without a single dragon being lost.” Vance’s eyes dart between us. “He said it would change everything.”

“The Shard,” Caleb murmurs.

“If he has it,” I say, “why hasn’t he used it yet?”

Vance laughs, a hollow sound tinged with genuine fear. “Who says he hasn’t?”

The implications of that statement hang in the air like smoke. He could be talking shit, but if Malakai already has the Shard and is using it somehow—

The door bangs open, shattering the tension. Mara bursts in, her hair wild as she waves her phone triumphantly; today the blue has been streaked with ebony.

“You guys are not going to believe this!” she blurts.

Luke follows close behind, his huge frame filling the doorway. “I tried to stop her,” he says, exasperation evident in his voice. “She doesn’t understand the concept of ‘restricted access.’”

“Please,” Mara rolls her eyes. “Like a ‘do not enter’ sign is going to stop me when I’ve got three million views and counting.” She thrusts her phone toward Caleb. “Look!”

On the screen, a TikTok video plays—footage of the dragon attack on Craven Towers, but overlaid with flashy graphics and a movie title: “INFERNO: RISE OF THE DRAGONS.” The caption reads: “Exclusive behind-the-scenes from the most ambitious promotional stunt in film history!”

“Three million views in six hours,” Mara announces proudly. “And the comments are gold. Half the people think it’s the coolest marketing campaign ever, and the other half are debating which special effects company pulled it off.”

Vance stares at the phone, confusion evident on his bruised face.

“That’s not all,” Mara continues, scrolling to another video. “I got some B-list influencers to claim they were part of it. This guy has seven million followers, and he’s ‘confirming’ he was hired as an extra.”

Luke crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. “It’s undignified,” he mutters. “Dragons reduced to entertainment.”

“It’s working,” Elena counters. “Better to be fiction than fact in the human world.”

Caleb studies the video, then nods. “Good work, Mara. Keep pushing this narrative. The more people who believe it was a stunt, the safer we are.”

“So, about that,” Mara rocks on her heels. “We might need to actually make a movie now. Or at least a trailer. People are asking where they can see it, and—”

“Absolutely not,” Luke interrupts. “We are not making a movie about dragons.”

“Well, technically, it would be about fake dragons,” Mara argues. “And it would cement our cover story. Hey! You know what? You could star in it.”

“What?” Luke’s expression of horror is so exaggerated it’s almost comical.

“Yeah.” She’s nodding, a dark wing of hair tumbling into her eyes, which are a bright shade of green. “You could totally pull it off. You’ve got that ‘leading man’ vibe going on and everything.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snaps, bristling visibly, though she seems completely oblivious.

As they bicker, I turn back to Vance, who’s watching the exchange with growing confusion. His earlier confidence has evaporated, replaced by uncertainty. Good. Off-balance is exactly where I want him.

“Seems your grand plan for exposing dragonkind is falling apart,” I say quietly. “Humans see what they want to see. And right now, they’re seeing a clever marketing campaign.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Vance mutters, but his conviction is wavering. “Malakai’s plan doesn’t depend on human awareness.”

“Then what does it depend on?” I press, leaning closer.

Before he can answer, something shifts inside me—a sudden, inexplicable pull that has nothing to do with the interrogation. A sensation like gravity changing direction, drawing me toward… what? My heart rate accelerates for no apparent reason. My skin prickles with awareness. The room around me seems to fade as this new sensation intensifies.

I straighten abruptly, cutting off whatever Vance was about to say.

“Dorian?” Caleb’s voice sounds distant, though he’s standing right beside me. “What is it?”

I shake my head, unable to explain the sudden urgency coursing through my veins. It’s like hearing a voice that makes no sound, feeling a touch that isn’t there. Something is calling me, and my body is responding before my mind can process why.

“I don’t—” I begin, then stop as the sensation sharpens into something almost painful. A tug at the center of my being, pulling me toward….

Her.

The thought forms with absolute certainty, though it makes no logical sense. Juno is gone. Ash and memory. Yet every instinct screams otherwise.

Without another word, I bolt for the door, shoving past Luke and Mara. I hear Caleb calling after me, but his voice fades beneath the roar of blood in my ears. My feet carry me through the corridors of Craven Towers, past startled construction workers and security personnel. I take the stairs because waiting for the elevator feels impossible, descending twenty floors in a blur of movement too fast for human eyes to track.

The lobby passes in a flash of marble and glass. I burst through the revolving doors onto the plaza outside, the air hitting my lungs like a shock of cold water. The pull is stronger now, an invisible tether drawing me forward with undeniable force.

And then I see it—a blinding flash of white light erupting at the edge of the plaza. So bright it sears my vision, forcing me to shield my eyes. When the glare subsides, I lower my arm, blinking away after-images.

There, in the center of a scorched circle on the pavement, stands a woman. Her back is to me, but I would know the line of those shoulders, the curve of that neck, anywhere. Her hair is different—pure gold instead of sandy blonde—and she’s wearing what looks like hospital scrubs, but it’s her. It has to be her.

Juno!