Page 18 of Possessed by the Dragon Alien (Zarux Dragon Brides #6)

FOURTEEN

Madrian strode through the obsidian corridors toward the council chamber, his boots echoing against the polished floor. The listening device felt like molten metal in his pocket. Evidence of betrayal. Proof that colleagues he’d worked alongside for cycles had orchestrated Nena’s death.

The chamber doors slid open with their usual whisper. Eleven figures turned toward him as he entered—the remaining members of the Twelve, minus himself. Their faces wore expressions of manufactured concern, but Madrian had learned to read the subtle tells that revealed their true thoughts.

Taghi’s fingers drummed against the table in sets of three—her pattern when she was pleased about something.

Valkos kept his hands perfectly still, which meant he was fighting excitement.

Ezi’s scaled brow ridge was slightly furrowed, but his eyes darted between Madrian and the others, rather than focusing on him directly.

Genuine worry, but not about the missing prisoner.

“Madrian.” Chancellor Shorvis gestured to the empty chair. “We were just discussing the security breach in the workers’ quarters.”

Madrian took his seat, noting how Shorvis had positioned himself at an angle that let him watch both Madrian and the door. “Breach?”

“One of the prisoners escaped at the end of her shift,” Taghi said. Her voice carried false sympathy, but her pupils were slightly dilated—a sign of anticipation in her species. “A Terian female. We’re concerned she might pose a security risk.”

Uri leaned forward, his scaled features creased with worry that seemed genuine. But his claws tapped once against his knee—a nervous habit Madrian had observed countless times when Ezi disagreed with a council decision but felt pressured to go along.

“The search teams found no trace of her,” Ezi said. “It’s as if she simply vanished.”

“Strange,” Madrian said, keeping his tone neutral. “The dome is sealed. Where could one prisoner go?”

Valkos’ yellow eyes fixed on Madrian with predatory focus. The pale chancellor’s breathing had slowed—something that happened when he was preparing to strike. “That’s what concerns us. Someone had to help her. The question is who.”

Madrian let silence stretch for exactly three heartbeats before responding. Long enough to seem thoughtful, not long enough to appear defensive. “You suspect someone at Central assisted her?”

“We have to consider every possibility.” Taghi’s smile was razor-thin, but her left eye twitched—barely perceptible, but Madrian had seen it before when she was lying to the full council about resource allocations.

“The timing is…interesting. Just as we’re dealing with rebellions in other facilities. ”

The trap was elegant, he had to admit. They’d orchestrated Nena’s arrival, waited for him to react, then used her disappearance as justification for their suspicions. But they’d underestimated his ability to read them after so many cycles of shared deceptions.

“Speaking of which,” Shorvis interjected, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual—another tell Madrian recognized, “we’ve received disturbing reports from the outer territories. The Slarik Arena has gone completely dark. No communications for three cycles.”

Uri’s expression darkened, but his claws had stopped tapping. This was news to him. They weren’t sharing everything with the full council.

“That makes four facilities we’ve lost contact with in the past month,” Ezi said.

Madrian’s pulse quickened, but he kept his expression mildly interested. “What’s the connection?”

“We’re still investigating,” Valkos said smoothly. His hands remained perfectly still, but a muscle in his jaw twitched once. “But there are…patterns emerging.”

Chancellor Bendahn, who’d been silent until now, shifted in her seat. Her breathing was shallow, and she kept glancing at the door. She wanted to leave. Whatever this was, she either disapproved or feared being associated with it.

“Patterns?” Madrian asked. If the stakes weren’t so high, he’d be enjoying this. Toying with them, just as they’d toyed with him over the many mig -cycles that they’d all worked together.

Taghi leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled. The gesture looked casual, but it was calculated to make her appear in control. “Zaruxian officers abandoning their posts. Facilities falling to rebellion shortly after. It’s quite the coincidence.”

There it was. The accusation wrapped in observation. Madrian felt heat build in his chest. It wasn’t enough to trigger any physical change, but just enough to fuel his response.

“You think members of my species are unreliable?” The words came out with precisely the right amount of offense.

“We think some Zaruxians in Axis leadership have forgotten their loyalty,” Valkos said. His pupils contracted slightly as he spoke. Madrian recognized that as excitement masked as concern. “The question is whether that… forgetfulness might be spreading.”

Around the table, reactions varied. Shorvis nodded along, but looked distracted and vaguely bored.

Ezi appeared clearly uncomfortable. His claws now dug into the armrests of his chair.

Bendahn had gone completely still. Only Taghi and Valkos showed signs of satisfaction.

The rest seemed marginally interested in the conversation, and appeared to want to move to other points on the meeting agenda.

A faction, then. Not the full council, but enough to be dangerous.

“My loyalty has never been in question,” Madrian said, letting his voice carry just enough steel to suggest wounded pride.

“Of course not.” Taghi’s tone was honey over poison, but her pupils remained dilated. She was enjoying this. “But we must be vigilant. These rebellions didn’t happen overnight. They started small. A question here, a hesitation there. Before we knew it, entire facilities were lost.”

Madrian tilted his head, as if considering her words. In reality, he was watching Valkos, who’d made the mistake of glancing at a specific datapad when Taghi mentioned the rebellions. Whatever intelligence they had, it came from that source.

“What are you suggesting?”

Shorvis cleared his throat, the sound more nervous than authoritative. “We’re implementing new security protocols. Enhanced monitoring of all high-level personnel. Regular psychological evaluations.”

The cage was tightening, but not as tightly as they thought. Ezi’s discomfort was genuine. Bendahn looked ready to bolt. Shorvis was clearly uncomfortable with the direction this was going. Only Taghi and Valkos seemed fully committed to whatever scheme they’d hatched.

“I see,” Madrian said. “And the missing prisoner?”

“Oh, we’ll find her.” Valkos’ smile was all teeth, but his hands finally moved—a tiny gesture of triumph that he probably didn’t realize he’d made. “It’s only a matter of time. The dome has ways of…revealing hidden things.”

The threat hung in the air like smoke. But Madrian caught something else—the way Valkos said “revealing” suggested they already knew where to look. They had a plan for finding Nena, which meant he needed to accelerate his own timeline.

“In the meantime,” Taghi continued, “we need all council members to be extra vigilant. Report anything unusual. Any changes in behavior or loyalty.”

She was fishing, but also establishing plausible deniability. When they moved against him, they’d claim they’d given him every opportunity to come forward.

“Of course,” Madrian said. “We all serve the Axis.”

“Yes.” Valkos leaned forward, his breathing quickening slightly. “We do. The question is whether some have forgotten what that service requires.”

The meeting dragged on for another— interminable —eighty-five piks .

Reports of supply shortages that Madrian now suspected were manufactured.

Discussions of guard deployments that seemed designed to test his reactions.

All of it meaningless noise while the real conversation happened in glances and calculated silences.

Madrian participated with mechanical precision, offering suggestions and approvals while mentally cataloging every tell, every nervous gesture, every sign of the fault lines running through the council. When this was over, he’d know exactly who could be trusted and who needed to be stopped.

When the session finally ended, Madrian rose with the others. The weight of their suspicion pressed against him, but so did his growing certainty about how to outmaneuver them.

“Madrian.” Taghi’s voice stopped him at the door. “A word?”

The chamber emptied, except for the two of them. Taghi approached with predatory grace, but Madrian noticed the slight hesitation in her step. She was confident, but not completely certain of her position.

“You seem tense today,” she said.

“These security breaches are always concerning.”

“Indeed.” She circled him slowly, a technique meant to intimidate. But her breathing was controlled, deliberate. She was working to maintain her composure just as much as he was. “Tell me, have you noticed anything unusual at Central? Among the garden workers, perhaps?”

His pulse spiked, but he’d expected this question. “Nothing significant.”

“Hmm.” Her white eyes studied his face, looking for micro-expressions. “Because I heard an interesting report about you speaking with prisoners. That’s quite unlike you.”

The heat in his chest built. “I occasionally inspect the work quality.”

“Of course.” Her smile was icy, but she blinked twice in rapid succession—uncertainty masked as confidence. “Just be careful, Madrian. These are dangerous times. One can never be too cautious about outside influences.”

The words pricked like a needle, but they also revealed something crucial. She was warning him. Not out of friendship, but because she wanted him to know the trap was closing. She wanted him afraid. “Your concern,” he said, “is noted.”

Taghi’s expression shifted, becoming almost sympathetic.

But her hands trembled slightly—the first genuine emotion she’d shown.

“We’ve worked together for so long. Chancellor Cratta invested so much in preparing you for this role.

She practically raised you, molded you into the perfect successor.

What would she think, seeing you now? She always said you were different from the other Zaruxian hatchlings.

More controlled, more loyal. It would break her heart to see you make the same mistakes as the others. ”

“What others?” He kept his voice bland, but the mention of Cratta sent an old, familiar ache through the scars on his back.

He could still feel the sting of her training whip, still hear her cold voice demanding perfection.

The female who’d “raised” him had been nothing but cruel calculation wrapped in false maternal concern.

She’d beaten loyalty into him, scarred disobedience out of him, and called it affection.

Even now, hundreds of mig -cycles later, the mere sound of her name made his wings twitch with phantom pain.

“The Zaruxians who forgot their place. Who let sentiment override duty.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and now the tremor reached her words. “It won’t end well for them. They will be caught. Punished. So will their Terian mates.”

With that, she glided from the chamber. But Madrian had caught the fear beneath her threat. Whatever they were planning, Taghi wasn’t completely confident it would work. If he had to wager a guess, Taghi was not the one who passed him that warning note.

He waited until her footsteps faded, then allowed himself a grim smile. They thought they were hunting him, but he’d been reading their moves for cycles. Every tell, every nervous gesture, every moment of uncertainty gave him information he could use.

Let them think they had the advantage. Let them believe their trap was perfect.

They’d made one critical error in their calculations. They’d assumed he was still the weapon they’d crafted from a stolen hatchling.

They were about to learn how wrong they were.