Page 9 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

I walk beside Secretary Harrison through the sprawling corridors of the UN headquarters. Day three of this security briefing, and I’m already exhausted from maintaining my cover while trying to absorb every scrap of intelligence that crosses my path.

So far, I have to say, there hasn’t been much, which is disappointing.

“The Chinese delegation is going to push back on the cybersecurity protocols,” Harrison mutters to his Chief of Staff, Jack Deveraux, who’s keeping pace on his other side. “Make sure we have the revised numbers ready for the afternoon session.”

“Already taken care of, sir,” Deveraux replies, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses.

Behind us, Jake Reynolds and Peterson form part of our security detail, their eyes constantly scanning for threats. I can hear their low conversation about perimeter protocols. I listen with half an ear since it isn’t the kind of intel I’m after.

My dragon stirs, but I push the sensation down, focusing on the rhythm of my footsteps. Thank god, she does as I ask. We’re off to a good start.

We turn toward the bank of elevators, and my breath catches in my throat.

Fury stands near the elevator bay with Thompson, another member of the security team. He’s dressed in his standard black suit, looking every inch the professional bodyguard. When his eyes meet mine across the space, there’s a flash of something in them. It’s gone before I can decide what it is.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Harrison says as we approach. “Ready for another thrilling day?” He sounds like he is being sarcastic.

“Always, sir,” Thompson replies formally.

The elevator doors slide open and our small entourage files inside.

Peterson steps in first, assessing the area.

He’s followed by Harrison, who steps to the back corner, immediately pulling out his phone.

Deveraux positions himself beside the Secretary, tablet at the ready.

Reynolds holds back the elevator, and Thompson takes position just inside, while I stand closer to the control panel.

Fury steps in just as the doors begin to close, squeezing into the already cramped space. The elevator suddenly feels much smaller with his huge frame taking up so much room.

The elevator lurches upward as Harrison’s phone vibrates with an incoming call. He checks the caller ID before answering.

“This is Harrison.” He presses the device to his ear.

I strain to listen without appearing obvious. Deveraux is scrolling through his tablet, but I notice Fury’s subtle shift in posture that tells me he’s listening just as intently as I am.

“Yes, I understand the timing is tight,” Harrison continues. “But given the recent intelligence reports, I think we need to add the enhanced security protocols to today’s agenda…” He listens for a few seconds. “No, not just the cyber threats, but for the biological ones, as well.”

My heart rate spikes. Biological threats? What does he mean by that?

“The dragon situation in particular needs to be classified under potential domestic terrorism,” Harrison says, his voice dropping slightly. “I want them moved from the monitoring category to active threat assessment, where they belong.”

Crap! He is talking about my kind.

I catch Fury’s eye, and I can see he heard every word. His jaw is clenched tight, but his expression remains neutral.

“I don’t care what the previous administration classified them as,” Harrison continues.

“The intelligence we’ve gathered suggests they’re more organized and potentially more dangerous than we initially assessed.

Yes, both island populations. We need to put this particular item on the agenda for tomorrow’s—”

He listens again, nodding and making noises that tell the person on the other line he is listening.

Both islands. They’re talking about both Draig and Mistveil as active threats.

This is exactly the kind of intelligence my Council needs, but hearing it spoken so casually – like we’re nothing more than animals to be contained or even worse…exterminated – it makes my blood boil. It makes my dragon snarl with rage.

The elevator gives a sudden, violent lurch, and I grab the railing.

Harrison’s phone clatters to the floor as everyone grabs for the handrails. The elevator drops what feels like several feet before jerking to an abrupt stop, throwing us all against each other.

“What the hell—?” Thompson starts.

The lights flicker and go out completely, plunging us into absolute darkness.

“Oh, my god!” Deveraux’s voice is high and tight.

“Are we moving?” Peterson asks, his usually steady voice cracking. “I don’t think we are. What is going on? Shouldn’t we be moving? It’s pitch black in here.” His voice is now shrill.

“There must be a problem,” Thompson says, swallowing thickly. “Why has the light gone out?”

My dragon explodes into motion beneath my skin.

The confined space, the total darkness, and the complete loss of control…

It’s everything my beast fears most. I press my back against the elevator wall, fighting to keep from shifting.

I’m panting softly under my breath. My eyes feel too wide in my head.

Not here. Not now.

No!

“Everyone, stay calm,” Fury’s voice cuts through the chaos, steady and authoritative. “We’ve stopped and there is no light, but we’re secure…we’re okay.”

I hear him moving; there’s the rustle of fabric. The elevator lights up just a smidgen. The small beam of light coming from the back of his phone is like a lifeline in the suffocating darkness.

“I’m calling for help,” he announces, typing into his phone’s keypad.

“This is Marsh with Secretary Harrison’s detail,” he says into the device. “We’re trapped in elevator bank C, car number 4. Need immediate assistance. It seems to have malfunctioned.”

Trapped.

My dragon claws, desperate to break free from this metal cage. I feel scales pressing against the inside of my arms, my neck. If she emerges here, everyone in this elevator will die. Including me.

Everyone.

“How long?” Harrison demands, his voice strained.

“They’re working on it, sir,” Fury replies. “Shouldn’t be long. This is a simple malfunction. There is nothing to be concerned about. They will have us out of here in no time.”

Shouldn’t be long. But what if it is? What if we’re stuck here for hours?

The lights flicker back on for a moment, and I see the fear etched on everyone’s faces. Deveraux looks green around the gills. Peterson is sweating despite the cool air. Thompson checks his watch.

Then the lights die again.

Someone screams. I think it’s Deveraux, but I can’t be sure.

All I know is that my control is slowly slipping as well.

I’m panting hard. On the verge of— A large, warm hand envelops mine.

The touch is firm, and I know without looking that it’s Fury.

His thumb strokes across my knuckles in a soothing gesture that somehow reaches my dragon and calms her frantic struggle.

I squeeze his hand, using his steady presence as an anchor to keep from losing complete control.

“Emergency services are on the way,” Fury announces to the group, but I feel him give my hand another reassuring squeeze. “Everything is fine. We’re okay. We need to stay calm,” he repeats.

The lights flicker back on, and he immediately releases my hand, returning to his professional stance. But I can see the concern in his eyes when he glances my way.

“This is unacceptable,” Harrison snaps, his face flushed with anger and fear. “I have three critical presentations I need to attend, and—”

His phone rings, and he lunges for it. “This better be good news,” he barks into the device. “What do you mean, thirty minutes? Thirty minutes?” His voice rises. “I don’t have thirty minutes to waste sitting in a broken elevator! It’s unacceptable. I insist you do something. Do it now!”

My dragon responds to his agitation, and I feel her pushing again.

Thirty minutes. I can’t last thirty minutes in here.

The space feels like it’s shrinking with each passing second.

It feels like the air is getting thin. That can’t be right.

Surely, it’s just my panic taking hold? It has to be. I need to get a grip.

“Sir,” Fury says in an even tone, “I understand your frustration, but getting agitated won’t help the situation. The technical team is working as fast as they can.”

Harrison glares at him but doesn’t argue. He ends his call with a frustrated grunt and leans against the elevator wall. Sweat beads on his brow. He loosens his tie with a sharp movement.

“This day just keeps getting better,” Deveraux mutters.

That’s when the lights start flickering again in rapid, strobing flashes that make my head spin. Someone – possibly Peterson – lets out a string of curses.

My dragon surges forward with terrifying force. I bite down on my lip hard enough to almost draw blood, using the pain to focus. But it’s not enough. I can feel my control slipping away.

Oh god!

Oh god!

Fury must sense my distress because he subtly moves closer to me, his broad shoulder brushing against mine. The contact is minimal, barely noticeable to anyone else, but it’s enough to remind me that I’m not alone.

He’s here.

I’m fine.

We’re fine.

I can do this.

“Easy,” he murmurs under his breath, so quietly that only I can hear. “You’ve got this.”

But do I? My dragon is clawing at my skin with increasing desperation. If I had shifted last night like he suggested, maybe I’d have better control right now. Maybe I wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of a disaster that could expose both of us and get everyone in this elevator killed.

The lights go out completely again, and this time the darkness seems to press in from all sides. I hear Deveraux’s breathing becoming rapid and shallow. It’s almost as bad as mine. He’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. If he loses it, I will too.

Fury turns his flashlight on again. Then his hand finds mine. His grip is once again firm and steady, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control. I focus on the warmth of his skin, the calluses on his palm, the way his thumb traces small circles across my knuckles.

My dragon settles marginally, though she’s still more agitated than I would like.

“How much longer?” Thompson asks, his voice tight.

“They’re working on it,” Fury replies, and he checks his phone again. “Won’t be much longer now.”

“This is ridiculous.” Harrison pushes out.

“It won’t be long, sir,” Fury tells him in a hard but respectful tone.

I hope he’s right because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on. Every fiber of my being is screaming to shift, to break free from this metal prison. It’s taking everything I have to keep my beast contained. I feel sweat drip between my breasts and down my back.

The lights flicker once more in weak, unstable beams that cast shadows on our faces. Then, just when I think I can’t take another second, there’s a mechanical grinding sound and the elevator lurches back to life.

Fury lets my hand go.

We all hold our breath as the car begins moving upward, slow and steady. When the doors finally slide open with their familiar chime, I’ve never been so happy to see the marble floors of the UN building.

“Thank god,” Deveraux breathes, practically stumbling out of the elevator.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Harrison says, straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair. Despite his earlier panic, he’s back to his composed, authoritative self. “Nothing like a little excitement to get the blood flowing, eh?”

Thompson and Peterson both laugh, the tension bleeding out of them now that we’re on solid ground.

“At least we have a good story to tell at the bar tonight,” Peterson jokes.

“I suppose,” Deveraux mutters, still looking shaken. “I’m taking the stairs from now on.”

Harrison chuckles and checks his watch. “Alright, people, let’s get moving. We have a full day ahead of us, and I refuse to let a faulty elevator derail our schedule.”

As the group starts moving toward the conference rooms, I catch Fury’s eye and mouth a silent “thank you.” He gives me the briefest of nods before falling back into formation with the rest of the security detail.

I push out a shuddery breath and follow Harrison down the corridor. That was too close for my liking. If Fury hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t kept me grounded, I would have shifted right there in that elevator. The thought of what would have happened next makes my stomach turn.

I can’t let myself get that close to losing control again.

The information I’m gathering is too important, and the consequences of exposure are too severe.

Not just for me, but for my people, especially after overhearing Harrison in there.

He sees us as a real threat, and we haven’t even done anything.

We haven’t so much as stepped out of line.

If I am caught on human soil, it will spell disaster for my people.

The thought terrifies me more than I care to admit.