Page 9 of Not an Assistant (Tales of the Dreggageggon #4)

The Quiet Before the Storm

Z ahara

I wake up to the sound of nothing. No street noise. No honking. No thin walls where echoing neighbors’ arguments or babies crying seep through. Just silence.

At first, it feels suffocating. Like I’ve slipped into some liminal space where time doesn’t move. But the longer I lay there, the more I realize it’s peaceful. Safe. And absolutely terrifying.

The sun filters in through glass walls, casting golden light across the floor. The view outside is unreal, like something from a movie. Skyscrapers gleaming in the distance, clouds curling low over the horizon like they’re reluctant to rise.

I sit up slowly, wrapping the sheet around my chest as if it can shield me from the weight of reality. Acheron’s scent clings to the bed. Faint and lingering. Like he’s everywhere, even when he’s not in the room.

I don’t know how long I stay there. Minutes. Hours. My internal clock is broken, rewired by too many nights without sleep and too many mornings waking up to nothing but fear. But eventually, I move.

I shower in the en-suite, a monstrosity of dark tile and chrome with more water pressure than I’ve ever experienced. The steam curls around me, washing away the sweat, the scent, the confusion. But not the bond.

That’s inside me now. Etched into my bones.

I towel off, open the walk-in closet, and stare. Designer clothes. Silk and leather and cotton in every shade and color. Shoes that look like they might be custom-made. Jewelry glinting in velvet-lined drawers.

I should feel thrilled. Awed. But all I feel is displaced. None of this belongs to me. But him? He says I belong to him and he belongs to me.

I choose a simple black sweater and dark grey leggings. Soft and comfortable. I want armor, but this will have to do.

The moment I step into the hallway, a motion light clicks on.

The house is quiet, but not empty. I can feel him here, not just his scent, but his presence.

It’s in the way the lights adjust to me.

In the way the heat kicks in beneath my feet.

In the way the doors seem to know where I want to go before I do.

It takes me a few minutes but I find the kitchen. It too is massive. Marble counters, chrome appliances, and a stocked fridge that looks like it belongs in a five-star restaurant. A fresh pot of coffee steams beside a covered tray on the island.

I lift the lid to find a full array of deliciousness. Eggs, toast, sliced fruit, and perfectly crisp bacon. My stomach growls loudly, the smell making my mouth water. For a split-second, I hesitate, and then I dig in.

After I finish every last crumb, I wander through the rest of this mansion. I find a library that stretches three stories, a conservatory filled with plants that bloom under artificial sunlight, and a gym with more equipment than my entire old apartment complex.

Every corner of this place screams wealth. Power. Legacy.

But it’s not just a fortress. It’s his.

It’s layered with quiet details I never expected. Photos, black-and-white and sepia-toned, of old cities and even older dragons. Books with spines cracked by time. A grand piano in the music room with fingerprints on the keys.

There’s life here. And I don’t know what to do with that. I was expecting to find a clinical, clean shell. More of a museum than a home, but this place has been lived in and tailored to fit Acheron.

I pause in the main hall, drawn toward the faintest sound, like a low hum in the distance. Following it leads me to a room with no visible door, just smooth stone carved with intricate sigils.

The moment I touch one, the wall dissolves.

Inside is a chamber that feels ancient. Older than anything in the house.

Dark stone around a single circular platform surrounded by candles.

In the center is a black dragon scale the size of a platter, resting on a pedestal.

My breath catches and my hands tremble. The air hums with power as I step in.

And I feel something shift deep inside me. The part of me I’ve been suppressing. Ignoring. Fearing. The part I couldn’t believe was real. Something that seems more and more possible with every passing moment.

Deep inside me is a dragon, far away from the surface and wrapped in fog, but closer now. Closer than ever.

I press my hand to the scale, close my eyes, and something in me answers back.