Page 96 of Forged in Fire

“New plan,” Viktor commands through the chaos. “Use the distraction. Get to Kieran while they’re focused on each other.”

I’m already moving, flitting through the shadows as I slip deeper into the mountain. Riven matches my pace, his presence steady at my back. Whatever’s happening between the Circle and the Syndicate, it’s buying us the opening we need.

The main chamber opens before us—vast, impossible, carved from living rock that holds its own light. Glowing crystal conduits run through walls and ceiling, all coming together on a central dais where—

“There.” My voice breaks on the word.

Kieran stands in the ritual circle, hands raised, darkness flowing from his fingers to feed the ancient magic building around a stone platform on which a huge statue of a man is lying. He looks exactly as I remember and nothing like himself at all. Same face, same eyes, but the way he holds himself belongs to someone else.

Someone who learned to survive by becoming whatever they needed him to be.

Someone willing to hand me over to the enemy.

Someone in a trance.

Beyond him, a tall, lean man in an expensive suit directs the ceremony—sharp jawline, perfectly groomed dark hair, authority that radiates from his every gesture. He’s wearing a carved black mask and he’s instructing my brother, while a circle of robed figures circle them like something out a freakish horror movie.

“Elena,” I breathe into my comm. “Need identification on the Syndicate leader. There’s a guy here who could be in charge of this thing.”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, dark hair, mask, expensive suit. Which is just ridiculous. Who wears a suit to an underground dragon ritual?”

“Roland Vex, would be my guess, if Vanya’s latest intel is anything to go by. Ivory League; traditionally, they mask themselves. Extremely dangerous.”

The name means nothing to me, but the way he’s using my brother means everything.

“Wait here. I’m going in,” I tell Riven.

“Like hell you are.” His voice carries an edge I’ve never heard before—protective, possessive, absolute. “We go together.”

“There’s no cover for two people. I can shadow-walk past their defenses.”

“Iris—”

“I’m the only one who can reach him unseen.” I’m already gathering shadows around me. “Cover my extraction route.”

But before he can argue further, a massive explosion rocks the eastern wall. Circle forces have breached the chamber perimeter, and chaos erupts around us.

“Go!” Riven shouts, dragon fire erupting from his hands as Circle operatives pour through the breach. “I’ll hold them back!”

I shadow-walk across the chamber, darkness carrying me past the sudden three-way battle toward the ritual circle. Toward the brother I’ve searched for across three years and half a dozen countries.

Behind me, I hear Riven’s roar of fury as more Circle fighters engage him. The sound tears at something in my chest, but I force myself forward.

I make it halfway before Vex notices me.

Magic. He must have some kind of magic to see through my defenses.

“Fascinating,” he says, studying my approach with clinical interest. “The infamous twin sister. Right on schedule.”

Schedule?

The word hits me wrong, sets off every alarm I’ve learned to trust. This isn’t an unexpected complication—they’ve been hoping I’d come.

“Let him go.” My shadows surge, responding to rage that threatens to consume rational thought. “Whatever you want, it doesn’t require torturing him.”

It’s a desperate request, but I’m out of options.