Page 23 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

R iven

The monastery looks like jagged bones against the mountain. Ancient stone. Orthodox spires cutting into predawn gloom. Mist clings to the ruins.

I kill the engine of the rental car behind a crumbling outbuilding. Silence settles—no birds, no wind. Just cooling metal and Iris shifting beside me.

She’s wearing the gray sweats I bought yesterday afternoon when I left her in the guesthouse, trying to put some space between us. Should look plain. Instead, they make her eyes burn brighter. The color suits her. Makes me think about things that have no place in my mind.

“They’re early.” She nods toward the helicopter settled in the courtyard. Black. Unmarked. Professional.

I study the layout through the windshield. Multiple escape routes. Equal number of kill zones. Clear landing space, but also clear fields of fire from the walls. Tactical nightmare or advantage, depending on which side you’re on.

“Stay close,” I tell her, checking the Glock under my jacket. “Something goes wrong, we move.”

She nods. Her fingers twist in her lap, reminding me that there’s a lot that’s been left unsaid. Like, what the fuck happened last night?

Don’t think about it.

Shoving away thoughts of her sweet curves beneath my palms, I open the door and get out of the car, Iris doing the same.

We move through the ruins, and I take in sight lines automatically. Worn stones under our feet. Moss creeping up walls. Water dripping somewhere distant. It would be picturesque if I weren’t waiting for a sniper round at any moment.

A woman waits by the helicopter. Dark hair pulled back out of her face. Cargo pants, vest, sensible boots, sidearm visible. Tall and athletic with pale gray eyes. Elena, I’m guessing.

When she spots us, relief floods her face.

“Iris.” Elena crosses the distance fast, pulls Iris into a fierce embrace. “My God, when I heard what happened—”

“I’m fine,” Iris says, voice thick. “Elena, I’m fine.”

A second figure emerges from behind the helicopter. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moves efficiently. Luke Kenan—I recognize him from Craven intel files. Craven clan elder. Military specialist. The kind who measures threats in milliseconds.

His eyes find mine, assessment passing between us. A slight flicker tells me he knows what I am. The question is whether he considers me an asset or a threat. I don’t find out because he doesn’t engage, so I don’t either. I prefer being around men who know when to stay quiet.

Elena pulls back from Iris, hands on her shoulders, checking for damage. “Are you hurt? We barely spoke yesterday. And when you said you were nearly caught—”

“I’m okay.” Iris glances at me. Something unreadable in her expression. “Riven got me out.”

“Right. Good.” Elena’s eyes flick to me. Gratitude mixed with professional curiosity. “Thank you.”

I nod in response but don’t say more.

“Riven is the one I was telling you about, Elena,” Iris goes on.

“The hired gun,” Elena says bluntly.

“Elena!” Iris reacts sharply.

“It’s alright, Iris,” I interject. “She’s not wrong.” I turn my attention to the dark-haired woman. “Riven Barlow, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she says. “Elena Ross… Rossewyn.”

I feel my eyes widen just a tad. A Rossewyn witch.

Ancient, powerful line. I’ve heard of them, but never encountered one.

I make a note to keep a safe distance. If I had to go up against anyone here, I’d prefer my chances against the lethal-looking male standing beside the chopper. The witch would finish me.

“Where’s Caleb?” Iris asks, looking into the empty interior of the helicopter.

Elena gives a small snort. “He doesn’t need to be involved in everything I do.”

Iris looks surprised. “You’re telling me he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He’ll figure it out soon enough,” says Elena. “And I guess he’ll chew me out. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Shit,” says Iris.

‘Shit’ sounds about right. If the team is here without Craven sanction, that puts a different complexion on things.

Static crackles from Elena’s radio. A voice emerges—authority and age: “Elena. Report.”

“Viktor,” Elena responds, keying the radio. “Iris is secure.”

“Excellent. Initiate extraction protocol immediately.”

Iris stiffens. “Extraction?”

Elena’s expression shifts. Professional mask sliding into place. “We’re here to get you out, Iris. Take you somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” Iris steps back, fight building in her posture. “I don’t need extraction. I need resources. Support. I need help getting to Kieran.”

“That’s not—” Elena stops. Takes a breath. “Look, we can discuss options once we’re airborne. Right now, priority one is getting you away from this guild that’s after you.”

“The Guild isn’t the problem,” Iris snaps. “The Syndicate has my brother. That’s the problem.”

Luke speaks up, tone measured but firm. “Infiltrating a Syndicate stronghold unprepared is insane. You know this.”

“So is abandoning family.”

The radio crackles again. Viktor’s voice, edged with impatience: “Elena. We don’t have an unlimited window here. Get her on that bird.”

Elena looks between the radio and Iris, conflict written across her features. “He’s right, Iris. Every minute here increases risk.”

“Risk to who?” Iris’s voice rising. “You’re not here to help me. You’re here to stop me.”

“We’re here to keep you alive,” Elena shoots back.

“Elena.” It’s Viktor. “This is non-negotiable. She’s too valuable to risk.”

“Too valuable?” Iris snaps. “What the hell does that mean?”

Elena and Luke exchange a look.

“Later,” Elena says finally. “We’ll explain everything once—”

“No.” Iris plants her feet, a stubborn set to her shoulders that I recognize. “Explain now. What did Viktor mean when he said I’m too valuable?”

The question hangs like a challenge. I’m curious about the answer, but more than that, I’m watching the situation develop. This argument is taking too long. Voices carrying farther than they should. Something at the edge of my awareness sends up warning flags.

My enhanced thermal perception picks up movement in the treeline.

Shit!

I force myself to stay settled. It could be anyone. Curious passersby who saw the chopper.

Luke keys his radio. “Viktor, we have a situation. She doesn’t want to come.”

“Then make it non-voluntary,” comes the immediate response. “Use whatever force necessary.”

Iris recoils like she’s been slapped. Elena’s expression crumbles.

“Viktor, no,” Elena says into the radio. “She’s not a prisoner.”

“She is now. Elena, you have your orders.”

Luke’s hand doesn’t move toward his weapon, but his posture shifts. Ready to act. A professional following orders that make my skin crawl.

I step forward, putting myself between Luke and Iris. Not aggressive. Not yet. Making my position clear.

“That’s not going to happen.”

Luke assesses me. Measuring threat level rather than capability. “This doesn’t concern you, assassin.”

“It does now.”

The tension ratchets up. Elena looks torn in half—duty warring with friendship. Luke calculates odds. And Iris—

Iris is looking at me like I’ve just done something she didn’t expect. Something that changes the equation between us.

She’s really not used to having someone on her side.

“You’re not taking her against her will,” I continue, voice carrying the calm that usually precedes violence. “Find another solution.”

“There is no other solution,” Luke replies. There’s a slight hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t like this any more than Elena does.

“Then we have a problem.”

The standoff stretches taut. Four people with conflicting loyalties. Nobody willing to back down. Helicopter engines tick as they cool.

That’s when I hear it.

Fabric against stone. Boot leather finding purchase. A subtle shift in air pressure. Bodies moving with quiet intent.

My thermal perception screams warnings. Multiple threats. Professional approach patterns. Coordinated assault formation.

Guild.

“Down!” I bark, already moving for Iris as the first rifle crack splits the morning air.

All hell breaks loose.

Muzzle flashes bloom from the tree line. Bullets whine off stone and spark against helicopter armor. Elena drops into a combat crouch, sidearm appearing. Luke spins toward the threat, an assault rifle materializing from nowhere.

But all of that is background noise. My entire focus narrows to Iris. Getting her behind cover before the snipers adjust their aim.

I tackle her low and hard. Drive us both behind the helicopter’s bulk as high-velocity rounds tear through the space where we’d been standing. She hits the ground beneath me, breath forced out in a surprised gasp.

“Stay down,” I growl against her ear, then roll away to assess the situation.

This is professional. Coordinated. Exactly what I’d expect from Guild operatives. Because I have no doubt it’s them. Multiple firing positions in the tree line. Overlapping fields of fire. Systematic approach vectors designed to cut off escape routes.

They’re not here to negotiate.

Fuck. Why didn’t I pay attention when I heard them earlier?

Too busy worrying about Iris being upset by Elena’s plans.

Elena and Luke have taken cover behind some stone pillars, Luke returning fire. The helicopter pilot is already spinning up rotors, preparing for emergency takeoff.

“How many?” Elena shouts over the growing whine of turbine engines.

I chance a look around the tail boom, count muzzle flashes, estimate positions.

“Six in the trees. At least four more flanking through the ruins.”

“Extraction window is closing,” Luke reports. “We need to move now.”

The helicopter lurches as the pilot brings it to full power. Rotor wash begins stirring dust and debris, a localized storm providing concealment but making accurate shooting nearly impossible.

Elena’s eyes flash silver for a split second. Her fingers trace quick symbols in the air, and I catch the scent of magic, like the aftermath of lightning—old power, earth, and blood combined. A protective ward shimmers into existence around our position.