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S omething they don’t always tell you in med school— but I learned during a forensic pathology rotation —is that to reduce a human body to ash, you need a flame that burns at around sixteen hundred degrees. And even then, it takes hours.

But Dragons?

Yeah. They don’t follow the rules.

The second Zeke’s massive jaw opens and I hear it— that little click like a lighter being struck —my legs move without hesitation.

I step away from the car. Away from him.

Michael.

The man who stalked me, kidnapped me, terrorized me. The one who tore apart my dreams and thought he owned my body, my future, my fucking life.

But he doesn’t anymore.

He never will again.

Because I have a Dragon now.

And as I move behind my big, terrifying, beautiful mate— scales glowing in different shades of purple to the lightest that glitters like molten lavender and gold in the storm light —I don’t feel one single sliver of guilt.

Not one goddamn tear for the piece of filth about to get incinerated.

My heart is pounding, but it’s not fear.

It’s adrenaline.

It’s awe.

It’s something primal and raw and right.

Zeke growls low, and I swear the ground trembles. The wind picks up. The sky opens above us with a thunderous boom like the universe itself is giving permission.

Lightning streaks overhead.

And then— rooooaaaarrrrr.

The blast of fire is blinding.

Hot. Pure. White-gold and furious as it engulfs the car and the monster who haunted my every nightmare.

It’s not a scream that leaves Michael’s mouth— he doesn’t have time for one.

Just a flash of stunned disbelief.

Then silence.

Fire.

And ash.

Just like that.

Poof!

Gone.

The flames dissipate into the air, rising with the last breath of a life that never deserved to be lived the way he chose to live it.

All that’s left is a scorch mark on the asphalt.

And me, standing barefoot in the rain, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Zeke turns his massive head toward me, eyes glowing like twin amethysts, smoke still curling from his nostrils.

And I smile.

I’m not afraid of him.

I never could be.

Because this Dragon— this fierce, ancient, magnificent creature —is mine.

He loves me. Protects me.

And tonight, he saved me.

Again.

As he crouches low, ready to shift, I cross to him, resting my palm against his scaly snout.

His heat radiates against my skin, and I swear I feel his heart beating beneath the scales and magic and fire.

“Thank you,” I whisper, voice cracking. “My Dragon.”

He lets out a low rumble, not quite a purr but something close, and then the shift begins—smoke and shimmer wrapping around him until Zeke, my Zeke, stands before me in all his naked, glorious, muscled glory.

He pulls me into his arms without a word, burying his face in my neck like he needs the reassurance this time.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him. “We’re okay now.”

When Max’s truck finally pulls into the lot with a screech, Zeke just lifts me off the ground and walks us toward it, never letting go.

I rest my head against his shoulder, the rain soaking us both.

We don’t look back.

We’re going home.

To our cabin.

To our forever.

Because monsters like Michael don’t get to be part of our story.

Not anymore.

Never again.