Page 2 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

“According to legend, the chambers would be heavily fortified,” says Viktor. “Kael’s people would have made sure of that. No easy access, clearly underground.” He glances at the footage on my phone again, studying the stone walls visible in the background.

“Underground means limited escape routes,” Hargen observes, his military instincts kicking in. “Easy to get trapped.”

“It also means that if the Syndicate is there, they can’t bring their full force to bear,” Dorian adds. “Confined spaces work both ways.”

The conversation swirls around me—entry points, backup plans, extraction strategies. I should be contributing. These are my skills, my area of expertise. Endless tracking, infiltration, and survival tactics have taught me how to think strategically.

But something’s wrong with my head. The voices blur together, and underneath it all, there’s this terrible urgency building in my chest.

Time’s running out.

The thought hits me from nowhere, urgent and undeniable. My hand finds the dragon pendant at my throat, fingers working over the familiar ridges. The metal feels warm against my skin, almost pulsing like a second heartbeat.

“Iris?” Juno’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain. She’s been silently observing me for the entire conversation. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I force myself to focus on the conversation, on the logical discussion of approach vectors and contingency plans. But underneath it all, that horrible certainty keeps gnawing at me like something with teeth.

Too late. You’re going to be too late.

“We need intelligence on what we’d be up against,” Viktor continues. “Historical layouts of other dragon caves, Syndicate security protocols, anything that might give us an advantage.”

“I can reach out to some contacts,” Vanya offers carefully. “People who might have insights into Syndicate operations.”

“How long will that take?” The question tumbles out before I can stop it, too sharp and too desperate.

Viktor glances over at me. “Proper preparation takes time, Iris. Rushing in blindly gets people killed.”

“But if they’re using Kieran for something, if they’re planning—” I cut myself off, shake my head. The words feel dangerous, like speaking them might make them true. “Never mind.”

Except I can’t shake the feeling. Like a countdown timer ticking in the back of my skull. Like watching storm clouds gather on the horizon and knowing you can’t outrun what’s coming, can only hunker down and hope you survive the impact.

“Never mind what?” Juno says, clearly recognizing my growing agitation, and I’m grateful that at least one person is seeing how this is affecting me.

“What if we’re already too late?” I ask quietly.

The room falls silent. Everyone’s staring at me now—concern, calculation, the weight of decisions that could cost lives. The kind of silence that happens when someone voices the fear everyone’s trying not to think about.

“We won’t be,” Caleb says bluntly. “They’ve kept him alive this long, Iris. They obviously have a purpose for him, or they would have killed him by now.”

I suck in a sharp breath. The thought of my brother serving a purpose for the enemy makes me nauseous.

“Geez, Caleb!” Elena nudges him in the ribs. “A bit of tact might be good?”

“What?” He frowns, genuinely confused. “She knows the stakes.”

I blink hard, willing away the tears that are threatening to spill over. “Sure,” I say, managing a shrug like it’s no big deal that my twin brother might be strapped to a torture rack as we speak. “He’s probably fine.”

But he’s not. I feel it in my bones, in the hollow space where our twin bond used to live. Something’s wrong. Something’s been wrong for a long time, and now it’s getting worse.

“We’ll do this right,” Viktor decides, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “There’s too much at stake to screw it up.”

I nod like I agree, like I’m on board with the careful planning and measured approach. Because they’re right. Tactically, strategically, logically—they’re absolutely right.

But every instinct I’ve honed during my years of searching is screaming that we don’t have time. That whatever the Syndicate is planning, whatever they need Kieran for, it’s happening soon.

Maybe it’s already happening.

I touch the pendant again, and for just a moment, I swear I can feel him. Kieran. Somewhere in the dark, waiting for someone to remember he exists. Waiting for his sister to finally be brave enough to come find him.

The metal grows warmer under my fingers, and suddenly I’m watching Syndicate operatives drag my brother away while I hide like a coward. Watching him mouth “run” as they shove him toward a transport vehicle that would take him away.

I should have fought. Should have stayed. Should have been stronger, braver, better.

But I was afraid, and by the time I’d gathered enough courage to try to reach him, the trail had gone cold.

Now here we are, with a real lead for the first time, and they want me to wait.

“Fine,” I say, standing up from the table. “Plan away. But make it fast. Whatever window we have, it won’t stay open forever.”

I head for the door, needing air and space and time to think without everyone watching me like I’m some kind of loose cannon.

Although maybe I am.

“Where are you going?” Elena calls after me.

“To get some air,” I say without turning around.

I leave them to their planning and step into the corridor.

I look back toward Viktor’s office, where they’ll probably keep arguing about contingency plans and logistical advantages.

Good people. Smart people. People I should probably be listening to because they’re right; we don’t even know exactly where he is right now.

But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do something immediately.

Because Kieran is my brother. My twin. The other half of a whole that’s been broken.

I touch the pendant one more time, feeling that strange warmth pulse against my fingertips.

Hold on, I think desperately. Just hold on a little longer.