Page 35 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 35

D orian

Transforming never hurts. It should—bones breaking and reforming, skin hardening to scales, wings erupting from flesh—but it doesn’t. It feels like release. Like truth.

Tonight is different. As my dragon form takes shape, pain lances through my chest—sharp, wrong. Not from the shift, but from what I’m leaving behind.

Juno.

I circle once above the abandoned warehouse, watching Daniel lead her to his car. Something inside screams at me to return to her, to protect what’s mine. The intensity of it staggers me.

Focus, brother. Caleb’s thoughts brush against mine, our twin bond strengthened in dragon form. His scales catch the city lights as he banks toward downtown.

I follow, fighting the pull in my chest. It’s becoming clear what this means—what Juno is to me, what I’m feeling.

A mate bond.

This isn’t just love. She’s my mate. It explains everything: the instant attraction, the speed at which our feelings grew, the bond that pulls us together. We’re fated. Except now I’m hurtling over the city without her. The universe’s idea of a joke: find your mate, lose her, get her back without her memories, then leave her behind.

Seattle sprawls beneath us, a constellation of lights in the darkness. Humans below, oblivious to dragons passing overhead. We stay high, using clouds as cover when possible.

Craven Towers rises from the skyline, its upper floors still showing damage from the attack that killed Juno. Construction equipment and tarps cover the worst of it, giving the building a wounded appearance.

There. Caleb’s thought comes sharp with rage. Movement on the executive floor.

We circle lower, enhanced vision picking out details no human could see. Broken windows. Overturned furniture visible through glass walls. A security guard slumped at his station—alive but unconscious.

They’re not hiding their trail , I observe.

Arrogant bastards, Caleb responds, but his trajectory doesn’t change. Where Elena is concerned, caution means nothing.

We land on what’s left of the rooftop helipad, shifting back to human form in synchronized movements. The pain in my chest subsides to a dull ache but doesn’t disappear. Distance from Juno, I realize. It will only get worse.

“Security breach on multiple floors from the looks of it,” Caleb says. “Lydia’s will probably be down below.”

We take the executive elevator down, bypassing the destruction. The lobby is a disaster zone—shattered glass, overturned planters, dirt smeared across marble floors. The few humans present are being tended to by clan members disguised as medical personnel.

“This way,” Caleb leads us past the security desk to a private elevator requiring retinal scan. It descends beyond the parking levels, stopping at what should be a solid foundation.

The doors open to reveal a narrow corridor where Lydia waits, a nasty cut across her cheekbone, more disheveled than I’ve ever seen her. Despite her injuries, she stands tall, every inch the elder.

“Report,” Caleb demands, striding forward.

“They hit us on our way to my place,” Lydia says, falling into step beside us. “I tried to fight back, but Serena turned on me. She took me completely by surprise, Caleb.” She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “You couldn’t have known.”

She doesn’t look consoled. “They mentioned going underground, and when we got here, we found signs of an attack, confirming it,” she goes on. Caleb just nods as he keeps moving.

The corridor opens into a larger chamber where Luke and a dozen clan members wait, armed and ready. The space marks the transition between modern construction and Seattle’s buried history—concrete giving way to nineteenth-century stonework.

“They’re in the tunnels,” Luke says without preamble. “We’ve secured the main access points, but there are dozens of unmapped passages.”

“Serena knows most of them,” Lydia adds grimly. “And she wasn’t herself. Her eyes—” She hesitates. “I think she was being manipulated.”

“How is that possible?” I ask. “The Syndicate doesn’t have a way to control the Shard yet.”

“Perhaps they do,” Caleb says quietly. “Or perhaps they have something else with similar properties. Either way, we’re going in and knocking them hard.”

Luke steps forward, muscular frame tense with restrained action. “We should move as one unit. The tunnels are perfect for ambush.”

“And slow us down,” I counter. “We need to cover ground quickly.”

“Dorian’s right,” Caleb decides. “We split into teams. Luke, take the western passages. Lydia, coordinate from here. Dorian and I will take east and north.”

Luke looks ready to argue but nods curtly. Orders are given, teams assembled. Within minutes, we’re moving into the labyrinth beneath Seattle.

Caleb and I separate at the first major junction, our twin bond allowing silent communication if needed. The tunnel I follow bears ancient claw marks on stone walls—dragons were here long before humans built their city.

The passage narrows, ceiling dropping until I’m forced to duck. Water trickles down one wall, filling the air with an earthy scent. My dragon senses pick up traces of recent movement—disturbed dust, a footprint in damp soil.

The ache in my chest intensifies with each step away from the entrance, away from Juno. Daniel should have her safely at the rendezvous point by now.

Time trickles slowly. One minute becomes five, and then ten, and then longer; my nerves are stretched taut, buzzing.

Just when I’m certain that this is going to lead to another dead end, a new scent stops me cold. Elena’s perfume—subtle but distinctive. I follow it deeper, around a bend where the tunnel opens into what was once a storefront, buried after the Great Fire. The wooden facade remains partially intact, ghost letters spelling “MERCANTILE” across the lintel.

“Elena?” I call softly, knowing Caleb should be the one finding her, not me. Something feels wrong.

“Dorian?” Her voice echoes from a back room. “Help me!”

Fuck! She’s here!

My first thought is to rush forward, but then I hesitate. Elena wouldn’t call for me—she’d call for Caleb. This is—

Too late. Shadows peel from walls, taking form. Five dragons in partial shift—human shapes with scaled skin, elongated jaws, clawed hands. And stepping from behind the ancient counter, Serena Maze.

She’s transformed from the elegant elder I’ve known for decades. Her delicate features have hardened, blonde hair wild around her face. But it’s her eyes that stop my breath—glowing with unnatural light.

Lydia was right. There’s something wrong with this picture.

“Predictable,” she says, voice layered with something that isn’t her. “The reckless brother, always rushing in.”

I shift partially, scales rippling across my skin, claws extending. “Where’s Elena?”

“Safe,” Serena smiles coldly. “For now.”

I assess my options. Five against one in a confined space. Not impossible, but not good.

“The Syndicate finally got to you,” I say, buying time. “I’m disappointed, Serena. I thought you had more spine.”

“The Syndicate offers freedom,” she replies. “Your brother offers only stagnation.”

“Spare me the revolutionary bullshit.” I tense, preparing to strike. “You’re nothing but a puppet now. A traitorous puppet.”

Hurt flashes across her face—the real Serena, briefly visible beneath whatever controls her. It’s the opening I need.

I lunge, dragon speed making me a blur. My claws catch the nearest enemy across the throat, drawing first blood. I spin, using momentum to slam another into the stone wall. The confined space works to my advantage—they can’t all reach me at once.

For a moment, savage joy fills me. This is what dragons were made for—combat, conquest, the perfect dance of predator unleashed. I duck a swinging claw, counter with a strike that cracks ribs, feel scales growing denser across my chest as partial transformation progresses.

Then something cold wraps around my wrist. Metal, but not ordinary steel—it burns against my scales. I recognize the distinctive weight instantly.

Dragon-forged chains.

I roar, yanking against the restraint, but a second chain catches my other wrist just as claws rake my torso, flaying flesh from bone and puncturing organs.

“Fuck!” I snarl, buckling against the pain. The metal disrupts my connection to my dragon form, forcing me back toward human shape. I fight it, muscles straining, but the chains were designed for exactly this purpose.

“Enough,” a new voice commands.

The attackers part as a figure enters from a side passage. Tall, dressed in tactical gear that doesn’t quite hide the expensive cut beneath. A face I’ve learned to despise over time.

“Creed.” I run hate-filled eyes over the form of the Syndicate’s second-in-command.

Alastair Creed smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Been too long, hasn’t it, Craven?”

I spit blood onto the floor. “Not long enough.”

He chuckles, circling me as I struggle feebly against the chains. The pain is making it hard to focus.

“Such loyalty to a brother who’s leading our kind to extinction. Caleb would have us hide forever, pretending to be human.”

“Better than whatever the fuck this is.” I glance toward Serena’s glowing eyes. “You’re not liberating dragons. You’re enslaving them.”

“A necessary transition.” Creed stops before me, studying my face. “The old ways are returning, Dorian. Dragons will rule again, as we were meant to.”

“Under your control.”

“Under proper leadership.” He reaches into his dark jacket, withdrawing something that glows with the same unnatural light as Serena’s eyes.

The Shard.

My body reacts instantly—knees buckling, remaining strength draining. The crystal pulses, its light intensifying as Luke brings it closer.

“How?” I manage, fighting to stay upright. “How do you control it? The Shard responds only to Rossewyn blood.”

Creed’s smile widens. “Let’s just say we’ve found a workaround.”

The Shard’s proximity forces me to my knees. Through the pain, I reach for Caleb through our twin bond—a desperate warning.

Trap. Creed. Betrayed. Shard.

I don’t know if he receives it. The Shard’s energy overwhelms everything, driving into my mind like icy needles.

“Don’t worry,” Creed says conversationally. “We don’t want to kill you. You’re much more valuable as bait.”

“Bait?” I narrow my eyes, my breath hissing through my teeth.

“But of course. Your brother needs a compelling reason to hand over the Stone.”

“Caleb won’t trade the Heartstone for me,” I growl. It doesn’t hurt to say it; we’d both lay down our lives to see that the Stone doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

“We’ll see.” Creed nods to his followers. “Bring him. We have a special place prepared.”

They drag me through tunnels, my resistance earning brutal efficiency. A blow to the head leaves me dazed, awareness fading in and out. I’m vaguely conscious of ascending, the damp underground giving way to cooler air. Blood trails behind me in a smeared crimson swathe—my blood from wounds that won’t heal properly while bound in dragon-forged chains.

When clarity returns, I’m outside, in what appears to be a construction site adjacent to Craven Towers. The night sky stretches above, stars obscured by city light. I’m surrounded by Syndicate dragons—some fully shifted, others in partial form.

Creed stands before me, the Shard glowing in his hand. “Your brother will come for you,” he says. “And he’ll bring the Heartstone to save you and his precious witch.”

“You’ve miscalculated,” I say, voice rough with pain. “Caleb’s duty to the clan comes first. He’ll come… to end you.”

“Perhaps.” Creed gestures to his followers. “But we’ve added insurance.”

The dragons move in perfect synchronization, inhaling deeply. As one, they exhale—not just fire, but something hotter. Flames erupt in a perfect circle around me, a barrier of fire that no human could survive.

The heat is intense but not unbearable to dragon physiology. It’s not meant to harm me—it’s meant to contain me. And to keep rescuers at bay.

I grit my teeth as I strain against the bonds holding me, but I know it’s pointless. I’m not getting out of here… not alive, at any rate.

“It’s only a matter of time now,” Creed says. “Soon, the only Cravens left will be the ones who join our order.”

“Not going to happen, fucker,” I bite out. I narrow my eyes; he’s swimming in and out of focus. I blink hard and look away. And then I see it. Through the wavering flames, there’s movement at the perimeter. A small figure approaching with determined steps.

No. Impossible.

“Juno!” I choke out, struggling uselessly against the chains. “Stay back!”

She doesn’t stop. Her face is visible now through the fire, set in lines of fierce determination. She looks directly at me, then at the wall of flame.

And steps forward.

“NO!” I scream, lunging against my restraints, blood slicking my wrists as I use the last of my strength to try to reach her.

Juno walks into the fire.

For one terrible moment, I think I’ll watch her die a second time. Then something extraordinary happens.

The flames don’t consume her—they embrace her. Fire curls around her body like a living thing, responding to her presence. Her skin begins to glow from within, illuminating her delicate features.

Creed turns, sensing the disturbance. His eyes widen in shock. “What the—?”

Light explodes outward, blinding in its intensity. Through squinted eyes, I see Juno at its center, her body transforming in ways I’ve never witnessed. Not dragon—something else entirely.

Something ancient. Something reborn.

Something that walks through fire unharmed.

I continue to stare as her features grow finer, her skin sprouts feathers, and wings extend. And one defining word springs into my head:

Phoenix.