Page 42 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

I ris

I sigh with contentment as I sit on the terrace, looking out over the valley.

For the first time in years, I’m not calculating escape routes or scanning for threats.

Just sitting with my legs curled beneath me on the outdoor couch, Riven’s arm draped over my shoulders, watching my chosen family enjoy a moment of peace.

The mate bond hums blissfully between us, a constant low-level awareness that still catches me off guard. When he shifts to reach for his coffee, I feel the movement before he makes it. When his amusement spikes at something Kieran says, warmth spreads through my chest.

It should be invasive. Instead, it’s like finding a piece of myself I had no idea was missing.

“What’s up?” Riven murmurs against my ear, voice rough with satisfaction.

“Just thinking.” I lean into his warmth, marveling at how natural this feels. “About how different everything is.”

Across the terrace, Kieran sits with Tabitha and Nadia, actually laughing at something the wolf shifter said. Color has returned to his cheeks over the past day, and the tremor in his hands has nearly disappeared. He’s still fragile, still carries shadows in his eyes, but he’s healing.

More than that—he’s trying to heal.

“The training program sounds interesting,” he’s saying to Tabitha, whose skin glows dark bronze in the afternoon light. “Physical conditioning, tactical instruction, magical enhancement. I could use all three.”

“It’s not easy,” she warns, but there’s approval in her startling blue eyes. “Viktor doesn’t believe in gentle introductions.”

“Good,” Kieran replies. “I’ve had enough gentle.”

Pride swells in my chest. This is the brother I remember—determined, stubborn, ready to fight for what matters. They tried to break that spirit, but it survived. He survived.

“He’s stronger than they gave him credit for,” Riven observes, following my gaze.

“Always was.” I watch Kieran gesture animatedly, explaining something about shadow manipulation to Nadia. “The Syndicate thought they could remake him into a weapon. They just made him more dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?”

“Because now he knows exactly what they’re capable of. What they’re planning.” I think about the intelligence he’s been sharing with Viktor, the detailed maps and personnel files he’s recreated from memory. “They gave him access to their entire operation. He’s going to help us tear it down.”

I feel Riven’s savage satisfaction. His protective instincts don’t just extend to me anymore—they’re expanding to encompass everyone on this terrace. Everyone who’s become family.

“Strange thought,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I never thought I’d have people worth fighting for. Now I have too many to count.”

The admission does dangerous things to my heart. This man who spent decades alone, who was trained to avoid attachments, is slowly accepting that belonging doesn’t make him weak.

It makes him invincible.

“For the first time in years,” I tell him, “I know where I belong.”

His arm tightens around me, and I feel his answer before he speaks it. Here. With me. With these people who’ve become something more than allies.

Family.

“Iris!” Elena calls from across the terrace, raising her wineglass. “Tell Caleb he’s being ridiculous about the security protocols.”

I look over to where Caleb is explaining something to Viktor with his customary intensity, his hands moving in sharp gestures that suggest fortifications and defensive positions.

“What’s he planning now?” I ask.

“A safe house,” Elena says, rolling her eyes. “Completely off-grid, self-sufficient, enough firepower to hold off a small army. Because apparently our current arrangements aren’t secure enough.”

“They’re not,” Caleb protests. “We just took down a major Syndicate operation. They’re going to retaliate. We need better defensive positions.”

“We need to live our lives,” Elena counters. “Not hide in bunkers.”

“You can live your life in a well-defended bunker,” Caleb replies stubbornly.

Viktor’s rugged face holds amusement as he watches the familiar argument play out. “Perhaps a compromise. Enhanced security that doesn’t require complete isolation.”

“See?” Elena gestures triumphantly. “Reasonable.”

“Fine,” Caleb concedes. “But I want remote sensors, magical wards, and at least three escape routes.”

“Of course you do.”

I laugh, settling deeper into Riven’s embrace. This is what normal looks like for us—strategic discussions disguised as domestic planning, security concerns wrapped in relationship negotiations. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.

“What about you two?” Vanya asks, moving to sit across from us with Hargen beside her. She looks different in casual clothes, platinum hair loose around her shoulders instead of pulled into its usual severe style. Feminine rather than militant. “Any thoughts about living arrangements?”

Heat creeps up my neck. “We haven’t really discussed—”

“The downtown safe house is available,” Viktor offers. “Fully warded, excellent security, close enough to headquarters for quick response times.”

“That’s very generous,” Riven says carefully, and I catch the undertone of a man who’s never been offered generosity without strings attached.

“It’s practical,” Viktor corrects. “You’re both valuable assets. We want you comfortable and secure.”

Assets. The word should bother me, but Viktor’s tone carries warmth that transcends military terminology. We’re not just resources to be managed—we’re people he wants to protect.

“Plus,” Hargen adds with a slight smile, “mate bonds require privacy. Trust me on this.”

More heat floods my cheeks. I feel Riven’s amusement at my embarrassment mixed with his own awkward awareness of being the center of attention.

“We’ll consider it,” I manage.

“Consider it quickly,” Elena advises. “Before Caleb gets it into his head to lock you up, too.”

“Elena,” Caleb warns.

“What? It’s true. Remember when you tried to go to that clan meeting without me? You made it to the parking garage before the separation anxiety kicked in.”

“That was a special circumstance—”

“You threw up in a planter.”

“It was a response to potential threats.”

“You threw up because I was more than fifty yards away.”

“For God’s sake, I did not throw up. How the hell did I pick a woman who’s so out of touch with reality?”

“Because I’m perfect for you.”

“I suppose there’s that,” he huffs.

Riven’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. I feel his relief that we’re not the only ones who struggle with the intensity of dragon pair bonding.

“The point is,” Elena continues, ignoring her mate’s mortification, “you’re going to want privacy. And probably soundproofed walls.”

“Elena!”

“What? I’m being helpful!”

The easy banter washes over me, carrying the kind of warmth I’ve only ever found in fantasy. People who care about each other enough to tease mercilessly. People who’ve seen each other at their worst and stayed anyway.

People who choose to be family.

“The intelligence Kieran provided,” Viktor says, steering the conversation toward safer ground, “it’s more comprehensive than we hoped. Personnel files, facility locations, operational timelines. If even half of it proves accurate—”

“It’s all accurate,” Kieran interrupts, voice carrying quiet conviction. “I remember everything. Every detail, every face, every conversation I was forced to witness.”

The admission hangs heavy in the afternoon air. The enormity of those memories must be crushing. I’m not surprised that he wants to atone for what he believes are his sins. I wish he wouldn’t.

But he’s carrying them anyway. Turning them into tools for justice instead of letting them destroy him.

“We can dismantle their entire network,” Viktor continues. “Shut down facilities, rescue prisoners, prevent the heritage consolidation program from reaching critical mass.”

“How long will it take?” Vanya asks.

“Months. Maybe years. They’ve been building this operation for decades.” Viktor’s expression grows grim. “But yes, it can be done.”

Satisfaction settles in my chest. Not just for the strategic victory, but for what it means. Other families won’t go through what we did. Other twins won’t spend years searching for brothers who’ve disappeared into Syndicate laboratories.

We can prevent that. We can stop them.

“There’s something else,” Nadia says, setting down her wineglass. Her pale green eyes hold the intensity that means she’s been thinking about something important. “The Circle of Fire is a mess without Malakai’s leadership. Most of their operations have gone dark.”

“Permanently?” Hargen asks.

“I don’t know. But their immediate threat level has dropped significantly.” She looks around the group. “For the first time in years, we’re not fighting a war on multiple fronts.”

Hope blooms in my chest. A world where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders, where relationships can develop without the constant threat of violence. Where mates can bond in peace instead of between battles.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Viktor warns, reading my expression. “The Circle will adapt. Find new leadership, new strategies. This is a victory, not an ending.”

“But it’s still a victory,” Elena points out. “We’re allowed to celebrate those.”

Viktor’s smile transforms his rugged features. “Yes. We are.”

As if summoned by the word celebration, Tabitha produces another bottle of wine from somewhere. Glasses are refilled, toasts are proposed, and the terrace fills with the kind of laughter that comes from people who’ve survived impossible odds together.

I lean against Riven’s chest, letting a sense of peace wash over me. His hand traces lazy patterns on my arm, sending pleasant tingles through my skin. For once, the future stretches ahead without immediate crisis or desperate missions.

For once, we can simply exist.