Page 9 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

I ris

This is a mistake.

The thought circles my mind, desperate and panicky. There’s been some misunderstanding. Some terrible mix-up that will sort itself out once everyone realizes—

But Kieran stands among them. Not captured. Not fighting. Just… standing there. Calm. Controlled. Like he belongs.

With me. He belongs with me!

My dragon stirs beneath my skin, scales threatening to surface as heat builds in my chest. My shadows writhe around my feet, responding to the emotional tsunami building inside me, dark tendrils reaching toward strangers who dare point weapons at me.

But I can’t move. Can’t process what my eyes are showing me.

“Your orders, sir?” the lead guard addresses my brother.

Sir? What the hell?

“One minute,” Kieran instructs him. The guard steps back.

He’s giving them orders? Why is he giving them orders?

“What’s going on?” The words scrape out of my throat, foreign and wrong. I search Kieran’s face for the brother I remember—the one who used to sneak me extra dessert when we were kids, who taught me how to throw a proper punch. “Kieran, what is this?”

He looks at me with those familiar eyes, and there’s nothing familiar in them at all. No surprise. No confusion. No desperate scramble to explain why armed soldiers are surrounding his sister.

Just… calculation.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way.” His voice carries that same measured cadence I remember, but underneath it is something cold. Something that makes my skin crawl and my dragon retreat deeper, confused by the scent of family mixed with threat.

Sorry it had to be this way.

Like this was inevitable. Like he knew it would end this way if I ever reached him…

“I don’t understand.” My shadows spiral higher, dark tendrils reaching toward the armed figures who haven’t moved, haven’t spoken, haven’t done anything except wait for orders. From him. “Why are they doing this?”

“Because I told them to.” Simple. Matter-of-fact.

Oh, God, the phone. When we were walking here, he was texting them.

“But… But why, Kieran?” I hate that I sound so pitiful, but I’m fighting back tears. I risked my life to rescue him. And he didn’t want rescuing.

“To save our people, Iris.”

Save our people. The words should make sense. Dragons need saving—I know that. The clans are fractured, weakened, dying out while the world grows more dangerous. But the way he says it, the clinical detachment in his tone, makes my stomach twist.

“Since when do you work with… people like this?” I ask because that’s easier than asking the real question.

Since when do you work with people who ambush your own sister?

“Since I learned the truth about what’s happening to dragon society.

” Kieran takes a step closer, and the armed figures adjust their positions slightly, maintaining their perimeter.

Professional. Coordinated. “The clan divisions, the territorial disputes, the endless warfare—it’s all leading us toward extinction. ”

My dragon surges. The urge to shift and attack wars with my confusion. How can I use claws and flame on the brother I came here to save?

“The Syndicate showed me the truth, Iris.” He spreads his hands, steady and certain. “They showed me what dragon society could become if we unified. If we stopped tearing each other apart and started working toward a common goal.”

The Syndicate.

The one that took Kieran in the first place.

“They showed you?” I repeat the words slowly. My shadows hiss around my feet, responding to the fury building beneath my fear. “Kieran, they captured you. They tortured you. They—”

“They opened my eyes.” His interruption is firm. “Yes, the initial contact was… unpleasant. But that was before they understood what I could offer. What we could accomplish together.”

Together. The word makes my shadows writhe higher, black tendrils reaching toward him before I yank them back. He’s talking about partnership with the people who’ve made our lives hell. Who made me search for him while they were—what? Converting him?

“You’re talking about the enemy.” My voice comes out sharp. Dangerous. The kind of tone that usually makes smart people step back. But not Kieran. He just watches me with eyes that used to mirror my own thoughts and now reflect nothing I recognize.

“The people who’ve been trying to prevent us from destroying ourselves,” he corrects, and there’s something almost pitying in his expression. Like I’m a child who doesn’t understand the complexities of the adult world. “The clan system is broken, Iris. It’s been broken for generations.”

“Broken enough to justify betraying your own sister?”

“I didn’t betray you. I’m offering you salvation.”

I almost laugh at that.

Salvation?

Like I’m drowning and he’s throwing me a rope attached to an anchor.

“How long?” The question comes out as a whisper. “How long have you been working with them?”

“Long enough to understand the scope of what we’re facing.

Long enough to see past the propaganda we were raised on.

” He moves closer, and this time I do step back.

My shadows respond to the instinctive retreat, darkening the air around me like armor I can’t fully trust. “The Syndicate isn’t our enemy, Iris. It’s our future.”

“They brainwashed you!” The words explode out of me, sharp and desperate. Heat flares in my chest, scales surfacing along my arms as my control wavers. “Whatever they did, whatever they told you, it’s not real. You’re my brother. You’re Kieran Asguard, and you would never—”

“I would never what?” His voice rises slightly, the first crack in his composure. “Work toward a future where dragons don’t have to hide? Where our children might actually have a chance of something more?”

“You would never lead your sister into a trap!” The shadows around me surge upward, responding to the pain that’s trying to tear me apart from the inside. “You would never look at me like I’m a problem!”

The silence that follows stretches taut between us. Kieran’s jaw tightens, and for a moment—just a moment—I see something flicker across his features. More regret, maybe. Or guilt.

Then it’s gone, replaced by that same cold certainty.

“You don’t understand the scope of what’s at stake,” he says quietly. “The projections, the statistical models—we have maybe fifty years before we’re extinct.”

Fifty years. The number unsettles me, not because it’s shocking, but because it sounds about right. We all know the clans are dying. We just don’t like to talk about it.

“But together,” Kieran continues, his voice gaining strength, “we could change that. Our combined abilities, our shared heritage as twins—we could accomplish things that neither of us could achieve alone.”

“Accomplish what, exactly?” I ask, though part of me already knows I don’t want to hear the answer.

“Reshape dragon society. Build something better than what we inherited.” His eyes gleam with an intensity that’s both familiar and alien. “The old ways are dying anyway, Iris. We can either cling to them and go down with the ship, or we can help build something that actually works.”

Something new. Built on the bones of everything we used to believe in.

The heat in my chest flickers, uncertainty creeping in. The logical part of my mind recognizes the truth in his words—the clans are dying, the old ways aren’t working. But the rest of me recoils from the cold calculation in his voice, the casual way he dismisses everything we were raised to value.

“And what if I say no? What if I don’t want to help you build your brave new world?”

He exhales a deep breath. “I hoped you’d understand,” he says softly. “But I knew you probably wouldn’t. Not yet.”

Not yet. Like my resistance is just a phase I’ll grow out of given time and proper conditioning.

“You’re not my brother.” The words come out flat and final. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Kieran. My brother would never—”

“Your brother was weak.” The softness disappears from his voice like someone flipping a switch. “Your brother clung to traditions that were killing us slowly. Your brother believed in honor and family loyalty even when those things became liabilities.”

The casual dismissal of everything we once shared hits harder than any physical blow. This stranger wearing my brother’s face, speaking with my brother’s voice, has just declared war on our entire childhood.

“My brother believed in protecting the people he loved,” I snarl. “Something you’ve apparently forgotten how to do.”

“I’m trying to protect everyone ,” Kieran snaps. “Including you. Even if you can’t see it yet.”

“By having me captured?”

“By giving you a chance to be part of the solution instead of clinging to problems that can’t be fixed.”

The logic is so twisted, so fundamentally wrong, that I almost laugh. Almost. If I wasn’t standing in the middle of my worst nightmare made real.

“The only problem I see,” I say, fists clenching as fire builds inside me, “is that my brother’s been replaced by someone who thinks kidnapping is an acceptable recruiting tool.” Flames lick along my skin, joining the shadows.

Kieran watches my display of anger with interest rather than concern. Like he’s taking notes for later reference.

“Your abilities have gotten stronger,” he observes. “The Syndicate’s research could help you develop them even further. Could help you understand what you’re truly capable of.”

“I know what I’m capable of.” My flames build stronger, hot and hungry and ready to tear through anyone who threatens me. “Want a demonstration?”

For the first time since this conversation started, Kieran shows something like genuine emotion. Not fear—disappointment.

“Violence won’t solve this, Iris. And it won’t change the fundamental truth of our situation.” He gestures to the armed figures still surrounding us. “I have resources now. Support. A purpose larger than just survival.”

“You have masters,” I correct. “People who tell you what to think and what to believe and what to do with your own sister.”