Page 25

Outside, wildfire crackles and spits, a primal counterpoint to the intimate violence within.

Its glow ripples over the cave walls in erratic flashes, casting them in blood-orange and soot-gray.

The scent of burning pine pushes into the narrow passage, thick and acrid, while distant pops of igniting brush crackle like muffled gunfire.

Each flare of flame outside throws their shadows into stark relief, limbs tangled, breath mingled—an elemental silhouette carved by fire and fate.

Each drive thrusts my back against cooling stone; each withdrawal drags exquisite friction. Pleasure knots tight inside me.

His hand slides across my belly, fingers circling the aching center of my desire.

Pressure builds in tightening spirals; heat crests higher with every thrust. The sigil over my heart ignites, silver-gold light painting the cave walls.

I’m tumbling, shattering around him—crying out his name as release crashes through me.

He follows with a hoarse shout, heat spilling deep, fierce and claiming. For a long heartbeat we’re locked—breath mingling, sweat cooling—until he eases free and turns me into his arms. He brushes damp hair from my forehead, kisses me softly—reverent contrast to the rough lovemaking.

The cave's silence hums around us, broken only by our breath and the distant wildfire's growl. His smile—crooked, firelit—does more to center me than any cave wall.

His breath stills for a beat, then steadies—stronger, deeper. The fevered shimmer on his skin fades, leaving clean heat instead of corrupted fire. “The poison’s gone,” he murmurs. “Feel it?”

I lay a hand on his healed side—smooth skin, strong heartbeat. “I feel everything.”

A distant boom rattles the cave, dislodging dust and pebbles from the ceiling.

A jolt runs through me—not fear, exactly, but something sharper.

It scrapes down my ribs and anchors fire in my gut.

I blink against the sting in my eyes—part grit, part what-if.

Flashes come hard and fast: Kade’s body convulsing in pain, the cave collapsing behind us, Bitterroot reduced to ash.

I draw a breath, thick with smoke and resolve, and brace—muscles coiling as I pull heat inward.

We’re alive—but the cost is still climbing. The air is thick with ash and scorched minerals, every breath scraping the back of my throat. My muscles tense, already bracing for the next sprint, the next impact, the next impossible choice.

I drag in a breath and force my pulse to slow. Panic won’t help. Precision will. I need a plan, and I need it now.

“The exit is clear,” I say, scanning the canyon rim. “But Greer’s getting closer.”

Kade nods, eyes narrowing. “There’s a secondary path on the south side—steeper, but faster. We can cut him off before he hits open ground.”

I follow his gaze. The slope’s narrow, loose underfoot, but manageable. My fingers twitch with the need to move, to act, to do something that matters. “Let’s take it.”

He reaches for me, his grip grounding. “We do this together. Then we end it.”

The words settle between us—heavy with meaning, sharp with intent. I swipe soot from his cheek, leaving a streak across my thumb. “Still with me, dragon-man?”

His mouth twitches, just barely. “All the way.”

We bolt for the trail, skidding down shale and fractured rock. No room for hesitation now. Every second is borrowed. Every breath a countdown.

Then I hear it—Greer’s stolen siren wailing across the canyon, distorted by distance and terrain. The sound rises, bending sharp as it ricochets off stone. Not a warning anymore. A declaration.

Kade stiffens beside me. “He’s pushing it too hard.”

“I hear it too,” I say, voice low. “Something’s off. He’s rushing. Desperate.”

The engine’s whine climbs another octave, splitting the air with unnatural urgency. The hairs on my arms rise. We trade one look, nothing held back.

We’re not just chasing him anymore. We’re running out of time. One drum left. One shot to stop him before he hits the edge of Prescott and lights the fuse.

We pick up speed, hearts pounding, boots slamming stone. No more hesitation. No more restraint.

Fire may not be ours to wield—but we know how to stop it… and we will.

KADE

Smoke still beads in Liv’s curls when we break through the south face of the cave.

The basalt yields with a sigh of cooling glass, its surface fracturing like cracked sugar under a torch.

The rush of night air hits hard—cooler, drier, filled with the acrid tang of distant ash.

Embers swirl between us and the open dark, tiny constellations spinning above the flats.

Liv pauses, spine straightening as her boots touch scorched stone.

Her breath catches, then steadies, her jaw set with quiet purpose.

A beat passes before I follow, struck silent by the contrast. The firelight frames her like something forged instead of born—tempered, unbreakable.

The bond between us tightens, not just with power but with purpose.

The cave behind us still glows faintly with the heat we left behind, but out here, the world is raw and real.

Every breath I take carries the weight of what almost broke me—and the promise of what she burned clean.

The poison hasn’t vanished entirely, but it recoils from her flame. From us.

A Blackstrike helicopter ghosts in low, the rotor wash kicking up ash like bone dust, scouring the barren slope.

The air thins with the downdraft, peppering our faces with grit.

Dax leans from the open door, headset askew, his eyes sharp and assessing as they rake us from soot-caked boots to glowing sigils, lingering for half a beat longer on the flicker of fire still dancing across Liv's skin.

“You two look wrecked,” Dax says, tone laced with gallows humor.

“Greer’s worse,” I grit out, boosting Liv onto the skid before climbing up after her.

I launch into the air, letting go of the skid and pulling my body into a tight dive.

Midair, the change surges through me, swift and absolute. Fire ignites in my core, racing outward like a living fuse. My skin prickles, stretches, then dissolves into heat. Bones soften, twist, then snap back harder, longer—reshaped for flight.

A heartbeat later, wings explode from my back with a violent snap, air shredding around their sudden span.

My hands lengthen into talons, lungs expand for the sear of the sky, and the world sharpens into color and motion.

I rise in a clean, fluid sweep, momentum and fury fused into instinct, leaving the last shreds of humanity behind in the smoke below.

The wind rips past as I haul myself level with the cab. The fire engine is empty—driver’s seat vacant, door swinging open like someone bailed in a hurry.

Coward.

He’s already gone. Abandoned the rig and left it rolling straight toward the city—steering locked, gas pedal strapped down, the whole thing rigged to keep moving. A distraction by design. A bomb on wheels. That’s fine. He doesn’t need to be behind the wheel for the threat to be eliminated.

Flame builds behind my teeth—not wild, but honed by fury, vengeance compressed into heat and purpose.

I release it in a narrow stream. Flame scorches the fire engine’s roof, welding the final thermite barrel in place. Brackets seize. Metal blisters. Better it detonates here—over basalt and flame-blackened stone—than anywhere near the city. I bank hard and away, just as the barrel blows.

A roar of molten light erupts skyward, haloing my wings in a corona of searing brilliance. The blast tears through the canyon, splitting the air like a fault line. No civilian eyes—just a commercial drone arcing over a ridge, its green beacon blinking like a verdict.

Damn. Footage is rolling. And every frame is fire.

“Greer?” she asks.

“Negative. He wasn’t with the vehicle. He had it rigged to hit the city without him in it.”

“Of course he did. We should have figured he had no intention of blowing himself up.”

“Any sign of him?”

“Not yet, but he’ll surface. Dax says to take out the drone. He got the signal jammed before it could transmit. Rendezvous back at the top of the cliff.”

“Copy.”

One thing at a time, I remind myself as I bank toward the drone. The immediate threat to the city is gone. I’ll neutralize the drone—then we’ll deal with finding Greer.