Page 15 of Dragon Enchanted (Secret Kingdoms: The Draquonir #1)
CHAPTER 14
T he skysplit openwith the deafening roar of dragons.
Vector led the charge, his massive wings slicing through the night, each stroke a force of destruction that sent shockwaves through the air. The wind howled past his crimson form, the moonlight catching on the sharp ridges of his scales, making him aphantom of death against the storm-churned sky.
He remembered the way Raven’s scent had disappeared. Vanished in the wake of chaos.
He, Talon, and another Guardian hadslaughteredthe Guild’s forces inside that store, their blood soaking into shattered glass, pooling around shattered display cases. It had beenfast, brutal, merciless—a blur of claws and steel, of gunfire silenced by death.
Only one man had been left alive.
Long enough to talk.
Vector’s claws had been at his throat,his teeth bared, as the Guardian beside him forced the man to choke out the truth.
By the time he got his answer, the man hadoutlived his usefulness.
The Guardians had left himbleeding out on the floor.
Now, the Guild thought they were safe inside their walls.
They were wrong.
His dragon was free.
And he wanted blood.
She is MINE!
The thought wasn’t just a snarl—it waslaw, an unshakable truth carved into the marrow of his bones. His talons flexed, aching to rend flesh. His fangs burned for vengeance.
The scent of her—faint, buried beneath layers of filth, stone, and steel—scraped against his senseslike iron hooks dragging through his gut. A ghost of jasmine and something uniquely her,tainted by them. She was alive. Caged. Waiting.
And the ones who took her?
They wouldn’t be for long.
Behind him,Erik’s Guardianscarved through the sky, their wings beating like thedrums of war. They werenothis allies a few weeks ago, but battle had forged something between them—somethingunbreakable.
Now, they flew at his side.
Not for him, but for her.
At his right,Erik, King of his clan, flew ingrim silence, his silver scales reflecting the moonlight like molten steel. His dragon eyes swept the battlefield below, calculating. Unforgiving. The Guardians were his, themost elite warriors of his clan, bound by loyalty, byduty—and now, byvengeance.
Because this was not just a rescue.
It was retribution.
Below, theGuild’s strongholdloomed, a fortress ofstone and steel, thick with the stink of gunpowder, sweat, and men who thought they werehunters.
They were wrong.
This was not astronghold.
It was a graveyard.
The Guild wasn’t running. They weren’t fleeing.
They were waiting.
Let them.
Vector’s keen dragon sightpicked apartevery detail. The rooftops bristled withballistae—massive crossbows loaded withsilver-tipped harpoons, primed totear through dragon hide. Nets—woven withiron and elven magic—lay in wait, ready tobind and cripplethem.
A trap.
They had come prepared.
Good.
So had he.
Vectortucked his wingsand dove, amissile of wrath, his roarcleaving through the night. The others followed, ahurricane of scaled bodies, descending like theharbingers of death.
A horn blared from below—sharp, panicked.
Then—
Fire.
Not dragon fire.
Gunfire. Explosions. The high-pitched shriek ofsilver spears slicing through the sky.
Vectortwisted; instincts razor-sharp. A harpoon streaked toward him, slicing the air with deadly precision. He veered right, feeling the rush of wind as it barely missed his wing.Behind him, a sickening crack—one of the dragons took the hit.
The boltpunched through blue scales.
The dragonscreamed—a sound of pain but not surrender. He kept flying. Keptcoming.
Because nothing—nothing—would stop them.
A furious snarlrattled Vector’s chest. His wings snapped open at the last second, breaking his dive just as he reached the rooftop. Heslammed into a ballista, his talonsshredding through steellike paper.
The men manning it screamed.
Vector did not care.
A rifle aimed at his head.
He struck—his fangs clamping down,bone cracked, flesh tore, and the man’s dying shriek was nothing more than a footnote in the carnage. Vector flung him off the roof like discarded trash.
Below,the Guardians hit the estate like a storm of death.Wings battered against walls. Claws tore through defenses. Crossbowsshattered. Screamsfilled the air, the scent ofblood curling into the wind.
But none of them breathed fire.
They couldn’t.
Becauseshewas somewhere inside that mansion, and if even a single ember touched that stone—she couldburn.
Vector’s tail lashed, his frustration aliving thing.
Where?! Where is she?!
A net came flying.
He twisted, his tailwhipping through the air,slashing it apart mid-flight. Another silver harpoon streaked toward Erik—hecaught it with his talons, spun midair, andhurled it back.
Itimpaledthe gunman,nailing him to the wall behind him.
Screams erupted.
Vectorswooped lower, his sharp eyes scanning everybalcony, every window, every shadow?—
Raven.
Come on, little mate.Give me a sign.
WHERE ARE YOU?!
“Vector!” Erik’s voice slammed into his mind.
“ They’re keeping her underground! If we don’t clear those harpoons, we won’t get close! ”
Another ballista fired.
Vector dodged, twisting midair. A netwhipped past his horns. He snarled.
They were running out of time.
Then—
A blaring alarm.
A guardstumbled onto the balcony, shouting into his radio. “Radar has incoming!”
Vector grinned. A dark, merciless grin.
He knew exactly who was coming.
He planned this.
A second guardbolted onto the balcony, his face pale. “How many?!”
The reply was hoarse. Shaken.
“At least a dozen dragons. Plus vehicles. Too dark to see what’s in there. Something that doesn’t fly, be my guess.”
The first guard’s grip tightened on his rifle.
“Shit.”
Dragonlaughed. A cruel, guttural sound, without mercy, thick with the promise ofruin.
Vector’s eyes burned with dragonfire, glowing embers focused on those who dared take what was his.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent ofburning oil and distant thunder—the unmistakable presence ofmore dragons, hisreinforcements slicing through the night like omens of destruction.
They finally understood.
Hell wasn’t just coming.
It was already here.
And it was wearinghis face.