Page 2

Dominic

M y entire body ached. A deep, bone-breaking ache that promised intense pain as soon as I could move again. I had wedged myself between crates inside a shipping container for the better part of six hours, waiting for Keiko’s signal that it was safe enough to emerge.

It was also cold. The kind of cold where I knew if I closed my eyes to rest, even for a minute, I might never open them again. Even in the dark, my breath fogged out with each exhale. It was the kind of cold that might make one wish for death.

Thankfully, my dragon, Joubunaryūō—Jou, for short—was more than capable of keeping my body warm enough to avoid hypothermia.

The Baltimore warehouse storing the shipping container had to keep temperatures near freezing to ensure the massive amount of pyrocrystals stored within didn’t combust on their own.

Finding that fact out had been a fun surprise for all involved.

A very expensive surprise.

My leg spasmed in protest, demanding movement. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and Jou flooded my muscles with warmth, soothing the spasm until it ceased.

It was the fifth time it had happened in the last hour.

Fuck this.

As quietly and slowly as possible, I slid a crate a few inches away and stretched out my leg. My knee popped loudly with the movement.

Atop another crate near me, two large yellow cat eyes popped into existence. They focused on me and narrowed.

I ignored the leopard’s glare as the blood rushed back into my legs and I massaged my muscles. Since my sight had long since adjusted to the limited light that crept through the container’s various cracks, I could make out the leopard’s big head resting on his equally massive paws.

"We’re not all built for day-long naps," I muttered quietly.

Something soft and fuzzy swept across the back of my neck. With a silent curse and a shudder, I swatted away the cat’s tail. "Quit it."

The black cat yawned. Teeth the length of my fingers glinted briefly before they and the yellow orbs disappeared into the darkness again.

Unlike their wolf counterparts, most cat shifters were solitary creatures, and Aaron was no exception. He preferred to live and work alone, though he was never opposed to a nightly cuddle with some gorgeous woman warming his bed. He just never let them stay longer than a night.

His family was also leopards, each connected with their cat spirits at birth, much like the wolves. They enjoyed getting together at holidays and other events but knew when enough was enough and were happy to go their separate ways again.

The Sato family had lucked out getting someone like Aaron involved in our businesses. Not only was he a whip-smart accountant who cooked the books with precision, but his feline abilities made him an excellent spy.

Normally, I didn’t do the sneaking around part of our jobs, but we were getting close to finally tracking down the source of Ichiro’s pyrocrystal supply. With all the precautions my friends and I had taken to keep our activities hidden from Ichiro, it had taken over a month just to get this far.

We needed to know how my grandfather was manufacturing so many crystals so quickly, and we needed evidence to prove it. Plus, I needed a distraction to keep from thinking about her .

I curled my hand into a fist as anger and hurt swept through me for the thousandth time. For the first time in years, I was failing. And it wasn’t from doing a task poorly or not meeting expectations—all of which Ichiro would argue I did every day.

No, I was failing at finding someone with my near-unlimited resources.

I still hadn’t found Bree. She and her sister had vanished after the fight, and no matter how much money I spent on resources or who I sent looking, I’d turned up empty-handed. Not even that stubborn fae woman knew where they went.

Marissa should have been easy to find, but her massage school claimed they had no records of a student named Marissa Johnson, nor anyone matching her description. There was only one explanation at this point—magic was involved.

Just as Frankie had said, the siren left a note apologizing for deceiving us both. I’d read it a hundred times, hoping to discover a clue in her words.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the constant heartache her absence caused ever since her siren song had released its grip on my mind.

I wouldn’t stop until I found Bree, if only to ensure she was safe. But it was becoming increasingly obvious she truly wanted nothing to do with me, a fact that threatened to consume me if I thought about it too much.

Shaking my head, I refocused on the current task.

Besides looking for the siren woman who’d stolen my heart, my friends and I had been digging into the Sato holdings, trying to find everything we could about the dangerous pyrocrystal trade.

But because it was illegal and forbidden amongst dragonkind to do what Ichiro was doing, information was hidden deep.

The more we dug, the more questions that popped up. The amount of pyrocrystals my grandfather could produce in such a short amount of time was impossible unless magic was used. And let’s face it, of course he’d used magic. There were no other logical alternatives.

So now the questions had become which kind of magic and who supplied it. Dragon magic wasn’t enough. There was more to this equation; I just needed to know what I was missing.

Although the Gifted Interests Government governed most of the Gifted population, we dragons had a hierarchy all of our own.

The High Draconic Council had overseen all dragon activities around the globe for centuries, and the next Council meeting was coming up quickly.

It was at that meeting that I planned to expose my grandfather’s actions.

Ichiro had tried many times over the decades to gain a seat within those esteemed ranks, but his business acquisitions and dealings had made him too risky a choice.

Needless to say, he was not pleased.

I had a gut feeling the pyrocrystals were somehow tied to my grandfather’s revenge against the Council. That he had exploited the dragon community at large as a big ‘fuck you’ to the Council. I certainly wouldn’t put it past the grumpy old bastard.

Mentally, I snorted. The only bastard in the Sato family was me. The only known bastard, at any rate. I was sure there were plenty of others, even some sired by Ichiro himself. But none were as offensive as the babe who’d cost him his daughter’s life.

Aaron lifted his head and tilted his ears toward the container’s door.

The bolt slid sideways, and the door cracked open.

I tensed for a fight.