Page 41 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

I ris

The Aurora Collective’s main conference room feels different this morning.

Maybe it’s the mate bond humming between Riven and me, making everything sharper, more vivid.

Maybe it’s having Kieran alive and sitting three chairs down, shadows moving restlessly around him.

Or maybe it’s just what victory feels like when you’ve forgotten the taste.

I settle into my chair, hyperaware of Riven’s presence beside me.

His shoulder bumps mine as he adjusts his position, and warmth spreads through my chest. The claiming marks on our throats are hidden beneath high collars, but the bond itself broadcasts what we are to anyone with supernatural senses.

Not that anyone seems surprised.

“Before we begin,” Viktor announces from the head of the polished conference table, his scarred features wreathed with something that looks like a genuine smile, “congratulations are in order.”

Heat creeps up my neck. Beside me, Riven goes statue-still.

“Another mating,” Elena says, grinning as she counts on her fingers. “Caleb and me, Dorian and Juno, Lila and Talon, Vanya and Hargen, now you two.” She looks around the table. “At this rate, we’re going to need a group discount for mating ceremonies.”

“We don’t need ceremonies,” I mutter.

“Speak for yourself,” Mara pipes up from across the table, the light touching blue streaks in her ebony hair. “I want the party. With cake. Lots of cake.”

Luke snorts. “You’ll get cake when you find your mate.”

“Working on it. Just need to find the guy who can take on all of this fabulousness,” she says cheerfully, then turns serious. “But first, we have bigger problems than planning parties.”

The mood shifts instantly. Viktor leans forward, all business now. “The intelligence reports from Romania?”

“Mixed bag,” Mara says, fingers flying across her tablet. “Good news: no mainstream media picked up the story yet. Bad news: local witnesses, satellite imagery, social media postings starting to build momentum.”

My stomach drops. “How bad?”

“Unexplained explosions, strange lights in the mountains, seismic readings that don’t match natural causes.” Mara’s expression grows grim. “We’ve got maybe a day before someone with a bigger platform grabs the story. After that, it’s damage control, not prevention.”

“What kind of damage control are we talking about?” Caleb asks.

“Memory modification for witnesses, data scrubbing for satellite feeds, plausible cover stories for the seismic activity.” Luke ticks off items on his fingers.

“Standard containment protocol. Not as complex as the fuck-up at Craven Towers.” He grimaces as he touches on the dragon battle that had waged around Caleb’s head office, smack in the middle of Seattle’s business district.

“But it’s going to need some careful attention. ”

Viktor nods slowly. “That’s manageable. Luke, you’ll coordinate the Romania cleanup?”

“Already have teams standing by,” Luke confirms. “But I’ll need tech support for the digital scrubbing.”

“I’ll go, obviously,” Mara volunteers immediately. “This is my kind of chaos.”

“And I’m going too.”

Every head turns toward Ember. She sits straight in her chair, hands folded with deceptive calm. But her eyes hold determination that I know is not going to be swayed easily, because I was once just like her.

“Absolutely not,” Vanya says, maternal instincts flaring. “You’ve done enough. More than enough.”

“The visions didn’t stop when the ritual ended,” Ember continues, meeting her mother’s stare without flinching. “There’s something still active at that site. Something I might be able to sense that technology can’t detect.”

Hargen leans forward. “What kind of visions?”

“Residual magical energy. Power signatures that don’t match what we saw during the ritual.

” Ember’s voice grows more confident as she explains.

“The chamber may be sealed again, but the awakening attempt left… echoes. I’m the only one who saw the original vision sequence. I might be able to tell what changed.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Vanya protests.

“More dangerous than letting magical instability go unmonitored?” Ember challenges. “What if the Syndicate’s ritual damaged the containment? What if there are aftershocks building toward something worse?”

The question hangs over the small gathering. Viktor studies Ember, weighing options with the calculating intuition that’s kept the Aurora Collective intact for over a decade.

“She has a point,” he says finally. “Finding out what’s actually going on down there is going to be critical.”

“Then send someone else,” Vanya snaps. “Someone with more experience.”

“There is no one else,” Ember replies quietly. “These visions are specific to me, to my hybrid nature. You can’t delegate prophecy, Mom.”

The family tension crackles across the table. I recognize the dynamic—protective parent versus determined child, safety versus necessity. It’s the same calculation I’ve been making about Kieran since the moment I found him.

Sometimes love means letting go.

“I’ll watch out for her,” Luke offers. “Both of them. Mara’s tech expertise, Ember’s magical sensitivity, my tactical experience. It’s a solid team.”

“For a routine cleanup mission,” Hargen says slowly, clearly working through the logic.

“For a routine cleanup mission,” Luke confirms.

Vanya looks between her daughter and her mate, conflict written across her elegant features. Finally, she sighs. “Limited duration. Specific objectives. Heavy security protocols.”

“Absolutely,” Ember says quickly, before her mother can change her mind.

“And if you sense any immediate danger—magical, physical, or otherwise—you get out of there immediately,” Hargen adds.

“Of course.”

I catch Riven’s eye, see him observing the team dynamics with professional interest. A lifetime of hunting alone, and now he’s watching a group negotiate protection protocols like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The mate bond carries his fascination and something deeper—a hunger for belonging that he’s still learning to acknowledge.

And yet beneath it all, he’s still Riven. Still the most dangerous man in the room. And mine.

“Speaking of intelligence,” Viktor continues, turning his attention toward my brother. “Kieran, I understand you have information about Syndicate operations?”

Kieran straightens in his chair. The past twenty-four hours have put color back in his cheeks, but his hands still tremble slightly.

“They kept detailed records of everything,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Locations, experiments, personnel files. The position I attained in their ranks meant they trusted me with more access than they should have.”

“How detailed?” Viktor’s tone sharpens with professional interest.

“Facility blueprints. Security protocols. Project timelines.” Kieran meets my eyes across the table. “And lists of targets. Other bloodlines they’re tracking. Other families like ours.”

I pull in a breath. “How many?”

“At least thirty active cases. Maybe more.” His jaw tightens. “They’re not just capturing individuals anymore. They’re mapping entire family trees, identifying genetic markers, building profiles for large-scale operations.”

“Heritage consolidation,” Vanya says grimly. “It was raised during many of my meetings with the Ivory League. Roland Vex is obsessed with bloodlines.”

“What kind of consolidation?” Caleb asks.

“Controlled breeding programs. Magical enhancement experiments. Attempts to create bloodlines with specific abilities.” Kieran’s voice drops to something flat and clinical. “They’re not just trying to control existing dragons—they’re trying to create new ones.”

Silence settles over the room. The implications are staggering. If the Syndicate succeeds in weaponizing dragon genetics…

“This intelligence,” Viktor says slowly, “could cripple their operations continent-wide.”

“That’s the idea,” Kieran confirms. “I remember more than I wish I did. But I remember.”

Pride swells in my chest, mixing with the mate bond’s warm contentment. My brother, broken and manipulated, still found a way to gather intelligence that could save lives. Still found the strength to offer that information in service of something larger than revenge.

“We’ll need extensive debriefing sessions,” Viktor continues. “Memory extraction protocols, cross-referencing with existing intelligence, strategic analysis of vulnerabilities.”

“I’m ready,” Kieran says without hesitation.

“It won’t be easy. Recalling traumatic memories, even for strategic purposes—”

“I said I’m ready.” Steel enters his voice—the first time I’ve heard real strength there since we got him out of that place. “They used me to hurt people. I won’t let that stand.”

I feel Riven’s approval, his recognition of the kind of determination that rebuilds broken men into warriors. His respect for my brother’s courage settles something restless in my chest.

“All right,” Viktor decides. “Kieran and I will handle intelligence analysis here. Luke’s team handles the Romania cleanup.

Caleb and Elena, I want strategic assessments of every target Kieran identifies.

” He looks around the table. “And Iris, Riven—you two get recovery time. Integration period. The mate bond needs proper settling before we throw you back into fieldwork.”

Heat floods my cheeks again. “We don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” Elena interrupts, grinning. “Trust me. The first few weeks are… intense. Emotionally and physically.”

Riven clears his throat. “How long are we talking?”

“Depends on the individuals,” Caleb says diplomatically. “Elena and I managed three days before she insisted on returning to work.”

“Because someone was trying to kill me,” Elena protests. “Hardly standard circumstances. If we’d been like Dorian and Juno, we’d be planning a honeymoon now.”

“Point taken,” Viktor says. “Two weeks minimum. Longer if you need more time.”

Two weeks. Two weeks of learning what it means to be permanently connected to someone, to share emotions and instincts, and the strange new hunger that burns between us.

Two weeks of figuring out how an assassin and a shadow-walker build something that lasts.

Piece of cake.

“When do we leave?” Mara asks, already pulling up flight schedules on her tablet.

“Within the hour,” Luke decides. “Private jet to Romania, we’ll need the helo to get around there, then fly back once the cleanup is complete. Should be routine.”

Something cold touches my spine. The confidence in his voice, the casual assumption that this will be simple containment work. After everything we’ve been through, nothing feels routine anymore.

But maybe that’s just paranoia from too many years of hunting. Maybe not everything has to be a life-or-death crisis.

“Equipment manifest?” Luke continues.

“Memory modification devices, digital scrubbing software, seismic cover story materials,” Mara rattles off. “Plus, standard communication gear and emergency extraction protocols.”

“Magical detection equipment for residual energy analysis,” Ember adds.

“And enough firepower to handle complications,” Luke finishes.

“Plus my secret weapon,” Mara pipes up.

“Secret weapon?” Caleb frowns.

“Snickers Bars.” Mara grins. “Keeps me sharp.”

“God help us,” Luke mutters, then looks at Viktor. “I’ll keep a handle on her.”

Viktor nods in approval. “Straightforward mission. In and out within forty-eight hours.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as people begin to rise, conversations splitting into smaller groups focused on specific preparations.

The Romania team clusters around Mara’s tablet, reviewing technical requirements.

Viktor and Kieran move toward the door, already deep in discussion about debriefing protocols.

“You sure about this?” I ask Ember as she gathers her things.

“About which part? The visions or defying my mother’s protective instincts?”

“Both.”

Her smile holds echoes of her parents’ determination. “The visions are real. And sometimes you have to take risks to protect the people you love.”

Fair point. I’ve taken exactly those kinds of risks.

“Besides,” she continues, glancing toward where Luke and Mara are comparing equipment lists, “I’ll have good protection.”

Something in her tone makes me look closer. The way she watches Luke move, the careful attention to his tactical explanations. Interesting.

“Iris.” Vanya approaches, elegant composure hiding maternal worry. “Thank you.”

I tilt my head. “For what?”

“For taking her seriously. For showing her what strength looks like. For teaching her that she has a voice.”

“She didn’t need teaching,” I reply honestly. “That came from you and Hargen.”

“Perhaps. But seeing it in action…” Vanya’s smile holds genuine warmth. “It made a difference. My little girl isn’t a child anymore. I’m so proud of that… even though I probably come across as overprotective.”

The Romania team heads for the door, voices carrying back as they discuss flight times and equipment checks. Ember’s excitement mingles with her parents’ worry, Luke’s protective instincts already shifting to accommodate two charges instead of one.

Routine cleanup mission. Simple containment work.

The words should be reassuring.

Instead, they make my shadows simmer with unease I can’t name.

“Ready to go home?” Riven asks, his hand finding mine with casual intimacy that still feels miraculous.

Home. The word tastes different now. Not a place I’m searching for, but something I’m building. With him. With the people in this room who’ve become family in ways that have nothing to do with blood.

“Yeah,” I tell him, fingers threading through his. “I’m ready.”

But as we walk toward the door, as Luke’s team disappears around the corner heading for the exit, unease trails behind us like a shadow.

Routine missions have a way of becoming anything but.