Page 30 of Forged in Fire

“Kieran, what are you doing?” I ask without taking my eyes off the stranger.

“What I have to,” my brother says quietly. “I’m sorry, Iris. But you’ve made your choice clear.”

The beeping gets faster, more urgent. Somewhere in the building, I hear the distant sound of boots hitting the floor. Lots of boots.

Reinforcements incoming.

The stranger’s jaw tightens, and I catch a glimpse of something that might be regret in those arctic eyes.

It shouldn’t matter. He’s threatening my brother.

“Your loyalty is admirable,” he says quietly, and there’s an unexpected gentleness in his tone that does dangerous things to my pulse. “Also incredibly stupid.”

The sound of approaching footsteps grows thunderous. Multiple teams converging on our position from different directions. Whatever window we might have had for escape is closing fast.

“Last chance,” the stranger says, and there’s an odd edge to his voice now. Like my answer matters to him in ways that go beyond tactical considerations.

I shake my head. “I’m not—”

His hand moves faster than I can track. Something strikes the side of my neck—precise pressure that sends lightning through my nervous system. But not before I catch his scent, something wild and untamed that makes my dragon stir in ways I don’t understand.

This shouldn’t feel familiar.

The world spins. My shadows scatter as my concentration breaks, dissolving back into ordinary darkness.

Pressure point.

Some kind of martial arts technique designed to disrupt neural function. Not just martial arts; there’s magic too. Something I can’t fight.

He’s not human.

“You—” I start, but the word comes out slurred. My legs give out, and I’m falling toward the floor.

Strong arms catch me before I hit it, and the contact sends a shock through my system that has nothing to do with the nerve strike. The stranger’s face hovers above mine, and for just a second, I see something that might be genuine remorse in those cold blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “But I won’t let you die for someone who’s already lost.”

Behind him, Kieran’s voice sounds distant and distorted: “Security teams to Corridor C. Intruders contained.”

Contained.Not rescued.

I never got through to him.

The stranger lifts me easily, and I want to fight, want to call my shadows back and tear him apart for taking this choice away from me. But my body won’t obey my commands. Whatever he did is shutting down my motor control systematically.

“Bastard,” I try to say even as betrayal burns me.

This stranger is saving me from my own flesh and blood.

The irony would be funny if my heart wasn’t breaking.

Shouts ring out, and my stomach lurches as the stranger hefts me higher, then spins on his heel and bolts.

My last conscious thought is of my brother’s eyes, cold and hard.

Maybe there’s still something left to save in Kieran. Maybe there isn’t.

Either way, I have far bigger problems to deal with.