Page 7 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

I ris

The compound spreads across the mountainside like an elaborate archaeological dig, complete with research buildings, equipment staging areas, and the kind of purposeful activity that screams legitimacy to anyone watching from a distance.

But my dragon vision cuts through the careful illusion.

Those aren’t graduate students manning the perimeter—they’re armed professionals with tactical gear disguised as field equipment.

And weapons. Why would an archaeological dig require so much security?

It’s a question I know the answer to. There’s more to this place than meets the eye.

I crouch behind weathered rock, studying their setup.

Years of tracking leads around half the globe, and this is where it ends.

Guard towers masquerading as observation platforms. Motion sensors camouflaged as survey equipment.

What looks like a sleepy dig site is actually a fortress built to keep secrets buried.

The Syndicate doesn’t do anything halfway.

Shadows reach for me before I even call them, darkness sliding along my skin, cloaking me. They respond to the restless energy that’s consumed me since Kieran disappeared. The pull to my brother.

The pull grows stronger as I watch the compound. Not just magical resonance, but something more personal. The twin bond that’s been my compass since birth, finally pointing true north.

And somewhere down there, Kieran waits for me.

Hold on, I whisper to the darkness. I’m coming.

I slip over the ridge, and the shadows embrace me completely.

Not just concealment but communion—darkness wrapping around my body with an intimacy I’ve never allowed another person.

This search has meant I’ve spent too much time alone.

But it’s a sacrifice I’ve made willingly.

I let the shadows engulf me. I vanish from sight.

My enhanced vision cuts through the night, revealing details invisible to human eyes. Guards. Cameras. Security checkpoints.

I take it all in, then move silently forward, my shadows deepening until I’m little more than a whisper against the stone.

I move through their perimeter like smoke. The first motion sensor never sees me coming—I flow beneath its detection arc, close enough to touch the metal housing. The second gets the same treatment. By the time I reach the outer fence line, I’m pure darkness in their carefully monitored world.

The razor wire poses the biggest challenge.

Cutting through it would set off alarms. Going over it risks the motion detectors.

Instead, I compress myself into shadow, darkness becoming liquid as I slip through a maintenance gap near the eastern corner.

The wire catches my jacket, tears a line across my shoulder blade that stings and burns.

Blood wells, glistening in the moonlight, but I’m through.

The compound opens before me like a movie set designed to fool satellites and casual observers. Prefab research stations. Equipment sheds that probably house surveillance gear. Temporary structures that are supposed to look hastily erected but show signs of permanent foundations beneath.

A guard rounds the corner ahead, assault rifle in hand, scanning systematically. Human. No enhanced senses to penetrate my shadow manipulation. I press myself against the nearest building, becoming one with the darkness, and he walks past close enough that I could reach out and touch his jacket.

His radio crackles. “Sector Seven clear. Moving to Eight.”

“Copy that,” comes the response. “Kitchen reports the coffee’s finally ready in Building Three. Team leaders can grab some after the shift change.”

Building Three. Living quarters.

Another voice cuts in. “Perimeter sweep complete. All equipment secured for the night. Recommend we maintain minimal lighting in the residential area.”

Definitely living quarters.

I turn away, running an eye over the compound.

Each prefab structure is clearly marked with large lettering on corrugated sheeting walls.

Building Three sits in the center, larger than the others and designed to look like a main research facility.

But the subtle details give it away—reinforced windows that could be bedrooms, ventilation systems too complex for a simple lab, multiple entry points that suggest corridors rather than open workspace.

The pull grows stronger as I approach. The twin bond that’s been stretched thin finally vibrating with certainty.

He’s in there.

The entrance is equipped with both electronic locks and magical wards, but I’m prepared for this.

The lockpicks slide home smoothly, a satisfying click telling me I’m past the first line of defense.

The magical protections require more finesse—I have to coax them open rather than force them, letting my shadows seep into the mechanisms like water finding cracks.

The door swings open on a corridor lined with what could be dormitory rooms or holding cells, depending on your perspective.

Is he locked in here?

Emergency lighting casts everything in amber shadows, and I can hear the distant hum of climate control systems working overtime.

I slip inside, every nerve singing with anticipation that has nothing to do with tactics and everything to do with the compulsion that’s driven me for what feels like a lifetime.

The building’s layout is simple—central corridor with rooms branching off on both sides. Most doors are closed, but I can sense occupancy behind some of them. Sleeping guards, maybe. Or other prisoners.

The pull draws me deeper into the building, past what might be a common area, past doors marked with numbers instead of names.

My enhanced vision picks out details that would be invisible to human eyes—scuff marks on the floor, worn spots on door handles, the kind of everyday wear that comes from regular use.

This isn’t a temporary facility. They’ve been operating here for months, maybe years.

The pull grows stronger with each step, until it’s less like a compass and more like a magnet trying to drag me forward. I turn a corner that leads into a large living area and freeze.

Kieran stands at the other end of the room, fully dressed despite the late hour, examining something on a tablet in his hands.

He’s broader than I remember, stronger-looking, his dark auburn hair shorter and neater than the wild style he used to favor.

But it’s unmistakably him—the set of his shoulders, the way he tilts his head when he’s concentrating, the familiar line of his profile.

He’s alive. He’s really, truly alive.

Joy explodes through my chest, stealing my breath and making my knees weak. All the false leads, all the dead ends, all the nights I wondered if I was chasing ghosts—none of it matters now. He’s here. He’s real. He’s—

“Kieran!” His name bursts out of me before I can stop it.

He spins toward me, and for a heartbeat, his eyes go wide with shock. Then recognition hits, and his face transforms with an expression I haven’t seen in years.

Pure, unguarded joy.

He’s pleased to see me. Not upset that I left him. Thank God.

“Iris.” He drops the tablet onto a nearby table, and it clatters forgotten as I launch myself at him.

Too easy, a little voice murmurs in the back of my mind. I ignore it.

His arms come around me with the same fierce strength I remember, lifting me off my feet and spinning me in a circle like we’re children again.

I bury my face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him—still fall leaves and clean soap, still fundamentally Kieran beneath whatever changes these years have wrought.

“You found me,” he whispers, and his voice breaks on the words. “I can’t believe you found me.”

“I never stopped looking,” I whisper back, mapping his face with desperate fingertips. He’s real, solid, warm under my hands. Alive. “Never. I knew you were out there somewhere.”

He pulls back to study my face, and I can see questions forming behind his eyes. How I found this place. How I got through their security. Whether I’m alone. But before he can voice any of them, his expression shifts.

“We need to go,” I say, the words tumbling over each other in my rush to get them out. “I have an escape route planned, a car waiting. If we move now—”

“Wait.” His hands frame my face firmly. Almost too firmly. “Iris, wait. There’s something I need to do first.”

What the hell?

What could he possibly need to do now?

“What?” My voice is sharp.

“Please,” he says. “It’ll only take a minute.”

I search his expression, looking for some clue about what could be more important than getting out of here.

“Kieran, we don’t have time. This place is crawling with guards, and they’re going to notice I’m here, eventually.”

“I know.” He glances down the corridor, then back to me. “But there’s something I need to show you. Something important.”

“Show me?” I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. “Show me what?”

“Just trust me, Iris.” His eyes are steady, serious. “You came all this way to find me. Trust me for just a little longer.”

Every instinct I have screams that we should be running. That whatever he thinks is important can wait until we’re somewhere safe. But this is Kieran. My twin. The other half of my soul, even if that bond has been strained and distant for too many years.

“How long?” I ask.

“Five minutes. Maybe less.”

Five fucking minutes?

“Kieran—”

“Please, Iris.” There’s something in his voice I can’t quite identify. Urgency, maybe. Or desperation. “I need you to see this. To understand.”

I study his face, looking for some sign of what’s driving this request. He looks healthy, stronger than I expected after being in captivity. There’s no obvious sign of coercion or fear. Just that steady, familiar determination that means he’s made up his mind about something.

This is nuts, Iris. We have to go.

“Five minutes,” I finally say, despite myself. “Then we leave. No arguments.”

Relief flashes across his features. “Five minutes.”

He leads me back the way I came, toward the exit. I follow, confusion building with each step. Whatever he wants to show me, it’s not inside the building.

“Where are we going?” I whisper hoarsely as he pushes open the door I’d entered through.

“Somewhere we can talk privately,” he says, stepping into the night air. “Without surveillance.”

This is ridiculous. He can talk all he wants when I get him to safety. But I follow dutifully, blind faith moving me.

But something is wrong. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.

The moon has shifted since I entered the building, casting different shadows across the compound. Kieran moves with confidence, like he knows exactly where the cameras are positioned. Like he belongs here.

My unease deepens.

It was too easy…

We walk past the equipment sheds toward what looks like a staging area at the compound’s edge, a place where vehicles probably assemble for deliveries or collections.

As we move, I catch Kieran’s hand sliding into his pocket. He pulls out his phone, thumbs moving quickly across the screen in a way that suggests he’s typing a message. The blue glow illuminates his face for just a moment before he slides it back into his jacket.

No. Did I imagine that?

“Kieran, what—?”

“Almost there,” he says, his voice tight.

We walk another couple of minutes, then round the corner of a supply shed, and the staging area opens before us. It’s larger than I expected, with equipment crates stacked in neat rows and a cleared space in the center that could accommodate vehicles or helicopters.

It could also accommodate an ambush.

Kieran stops walking. His head jerks.

Six figures burst out from behind the crates. All armed. All wearing tactical gear and holding assault rifles. All trained on me.

I take another step before my brain catches up with what I’m seeing.

“Kieran?” My voice comes out small. Realization is suddenly dawning. “What’s happening?”

He looks at me with those familiar copper-gold eyes, and I finally recognize what I’ve been seeing in his expression since the moment I found him. What I mistook for joy, for relief, for the brother I remembered.

Regret.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” he says quietly.

“No!” I gasp.

This can’t be happening.

The betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound. Not rescue. Trap. Not salvation. Destruction of everything I’ve believed for the past few years of my life.

I expected danger when I walked into this place. Considered the chance of capture, considered the very real prospect of death. But this…

I never considered this.

My brother—my twin, the other half of my heart—just led me straight into enemy hands.