Page 24 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

“That’ll buy us thirty seconds,” she says, already moving. “Maybe less.”

Luke’s form begins to shift slightly—not full transformation, but enhanced strength and speed. Dragon aspects bleed through his human facade. His return fire becomes more accurate, more devastating.

I look back at Iris, pressed against the landing gear. Scared but focused as her shadows weave about her.

Not panicking. Good.

“We’re getting you out of here,” I tell her, having to shout over the noise.

She shakes her head, her mouth moving. I can’t hear her words, but I read her lips: “Not without you.”

Something cold settles in my chest. The situation is crystal clear. Ten Guild operatives, probably more. Elevated positions. Overlapping fields of fire. One helicopter with limited evasive capability. Four people who need safety.

The math is simple. Brutal. Unavoidable.

Elena appears at my shoulder, moving closer under the cover of the rotor wash. “We need to go! Now!”

I grab Iris by the shoulders, force her to look at me. Her eyes are fierce with denial.

She needs to understand.

“They’ll keep coming,” I tell her, voice carrying just enough to reach her ears. “The Guild won’t stop. Someone has to buy time.”

Understanding dawns in her expression. Followed immediately by refusal. She grabs my jacket, her grip surprisingly strong.

“No,” she says. This time, I hear her clearly despite the noise. “We go together or not at all.”

Elena looks between us, picking up the tension.

Gunfire erupts from a new position. Closer. The Guild operatives are advancing, tightening the noose. It’s only minutes before they have the helicopter bracketed from all sides.

Luke appears beside Elena in a low crouch. “Perimeter’s collapsing. We’re out of time.”

Elena’s ward flickers, magical energy depleting under the sustained assault. She’s already reaching for her own power, preparing stronger magic, but it’ll take time they don’t have.

I look at Iris one more time. Memorize the fierce determination in her eyes. The stubborn set of her jaw. The way her hair catches the wind.

Then I make the only choice that matters.

Before she can react, before she can fight me, I hook my arms under hers and lift her bodily toward the helicopter’s open door. She’s light but strong, struggling against my grip.

“Riven, no!” The words tear out of her throat like something vital being ripped away. “Don’t you dare—”

“Save your brother,” I tell her, pushing her up into Elena’s waiting hands. “I’ll find you.”

Elena and Luke grab her, hauling her into the cabin despite her desperate attempts to reach back for me. Her eyes lock with mine through the chaos, communication passing between us that has nothing to do with words.

I look at Elena. “Keep her safe.”

Then I’m moving. Sprinting away from the helicopter toward the heaviest concentration of muzzle flashes. Drawing their fire. Giving the pilot clear space to lift off.

Heat builds in my chest—dragon fire responding to combat adrenaline.

I let it flow through my weapon, superheating rounds as they leave the barrel.

Bullets whine past my head, chunking stone from ancient walls.

I return fire, not aiming to kill but to keep heads down.

To make them focus on me instead of the helicopter rising behind me.

The Glock kicks. Brass scatters across worn stone. The world narrows to immediate priorities—cover, movement, targets. Skills that have kept me alive for decades take over.

My enhanced perception tracks the helicopter rising quickly, the growing distance between rotors and stone. The moment when physics and firepower join to make Iris safe.

A bullet burns across my shoulder, tearing fabric and scouring flesh. Another shatters stone near my head. Guild operatives close in, their coordinated advance compressing my available cover.

I duck behind a fallen column, eject an empty magazine, and slam home a fresh one. Through gaps in the stone, I see dark figures moving toward me. Professional. Relentless.

They have me surrounded.

The helicopter’s turbine whine grows fainter as it gains altitude. Part of me wants to look up. To catch one last glimpse of the woman who managed to crack something inside me I thought was permanently sealed. But looking up would mean death.

Instead, I focus on making every shot count. On selling my life as expensively as possible. On buying Iris enough time and distance to escape.

Guild operatives are good, but they’re not expecting someone willing to trade life for time. Their cautious advance falters as I press forward instead of retreating.

I put two rounds into the chest of an operative who gets careless about cover. I watch him drop. Others adjust, become more careful. Careful takes time they don’t have.

The chopper is almost out of effective range. Small arms fire becomes increasingly ineffective with altitude and distance. A few more seconds and Iris will be safe.

Something impacts my left leg. Spins me sideways. Pain flares white-hot through my thigh as a slug tears through the meat of it, but luckily, the bone holds.

Still mobile. Still dangerous.

I come up firing, lay down suppression as I move to new cover. Operatives are forced to keep their heads down, disrupting their advance. Buying precious seconds.

A voice echoes across the ruins, electronically amplified: “Riven Barlowe! Stand down and surrender. You’re surrounded and outgunned.”

Professional courtesy. They know who I am. What I’m capable of. Offering terms while they still can.

I respond with a double-tap at the voice’s source. The amplifier cuts off mid-word.

More muzzle flashes. More bullets seeking flesh. My left leg is starting to go numb, blood soaking through torn fabric. The shoulder wound burns. But I’m still moving. Still fighting. Still buying time.

The helicopter is a distant speck now, rotors barely audible over the gunfire. She’s safe. Elena will get Iris to Viktor. To Aurora Collective resources. From there, maybe she can find her brother. Maybe she can build the life she deserves.

Maybe she’ll forgive me for making this choice without asking.

An operative breaks cover, trying to flank me. I put him down with three quick rounds, but the movement exposes me to crossfire. Bullets whine past my head, force me back behind my rapidly disintegrating cover.

They’re closing in.

I check my ammo. One magazine left, plus a chambered round. Not enough to fight my way out. Enough to make them remember this morning.

Dragon fire builds in my chest again—hotter now, desperate. I let it flow into my remaining rounds, turning each bullet into something that burns as well as kills.

Through a gap in the stone, I catch a glimpse of movement. Black military gear. Assault rifle. Precision equipment.

I wait until he commits to his approach, then put two superheated rounds in his chest. He drops hard, weapon clattering across ancient stone.

But there are more. Always more.

The helicopter is gone now. Disappeared into the morning haze.

Mission accomplished.

Iris is safe, whether she wanted to be or not.

A strange peace settles over me as I reload for the last time. All this time, I’ve avoided questioning anything—purpose, methods, lives taken in service to causes I no longer believe in. Wondering if there was something better than the shadows I’ve called home.

Now I know.

Sometimes the best thing a monster can do is choose his last stand carefully.

And as I rise and walk toward the voice telling me to surrender, one thing is clear in my mind:

She’s worth it.