Page 21

Dominic

D ragon kings of old had established the High Draconic Council centuries ago, back when the first humans bonded with dragons, enabling their spirits to live on inside human hosts.

In the early days, we hadn’t learned to control the bloodthirsty beasts with tattoos yet, tethering their spirits to ours, and too many hosts died beneath their claws and magic.

Although those of us hosting dragon spirits prided ourselves on our innate ferocity and need for dominance, discovering the link between tattoos infused with the dragon’s magic and control over said beasts had been pure coincidence.

Once we had control over our dragons, we established the Council to better manage the affairs of dragonkind.

The Gifted Interests Government had existed for far longer than our Council, but after a few disagreements led to massive losses—on their side—they agreed to let us handle ourselves.

Yes, we were above the law everyone else had to obey. Our laws were simpler and more primitive, and our justice system quick and heavy-handed. In response, every Sato’s life was governed primarily by the family motto: Kill or be killed.

I stepped out of the limo and adjusted my black suit jacket.

While I had attended plenty of Council meetings in the past, this would be my first as the Sato empire’s official heir.

Judgment would be even harsher today, which meant every detail mattered.

Jou’s heat radiated outward, ensuring not a single wrinkle marred my expensive suit and soothing my tensed muscles.

A small gathering of non-Gifted humans watched as the impeccably dressed dragons descended on the Council building in the heart of D.C.

They would wonder who we were, but their internet searches would provide nothing more than gossip, naming most of us as mob families. To be fair, that much was true.

Their gossip was fine by me. The more the non-Gifted feared us, the easier it was to keep them at a safe distance.

Normally as we entered the building, Rin would be by my side as my unofficial right-hand man. I didn’t need a bodyguard, per se, but among this crowd, having someone to watch your six was always a wise idea.

Unfortunately, Ichiro had dragged him into the lab break-in investigation last night and he still hadn’t returned. Knowing my friend, he was likely leading them on a wild goose chase. Or wolf chase, in this case. Playing the big dumb jock made everyone underestimate him, especially my grandfather.

A smile tugged at my lips. Yes, for all his cunning, the old man could be such a fool.

As I entered the foyer, a hush fell over the mingling crowd. This reaction wasn’t uncommon when I appeared, especially over the past month. I’d outed myself as the infamous Red Dragon, after all.

Tightness filled my chest as an image of her face swam through my memories.

Godsdamn heart. It just had to fall for a fucking siren.

Had I known Bree was going to be the mystery fighter, had she trusted me enough to truly let me in, I never would have accepted my grandfather’s deal.

I would have forced his hand another way.

But she hadn’t trusted me, and I still didn’t know how I felt about that. I needed to know whether her lack of trust was due to her own secrets or because of who I was and the terrible things I’d done. I needed to find her, which meant I needed this pyrocrystal situation handled.

I clenched my jaw and strode past the crowd, nodding to clients and those I hoped to gain as clients. Not all the Sato dealings were illegal, by Gifted laws or otherwise, although those were certainly the most lucrative.

There were at least a few among this crowd that I knew were benefiting from the pyrocrystal trade. Benefiting from their brethren’s suffering and deaths. After I took Ichiro down, they would be next.

I entered the circular chamber where we held Council meetings.

Grecian-style columns encircled the room and drew the eye upward, where a painted mural sprawled across the ceiling.

The mural depicted the times during which the first humans and dragons had bonded.

Blood flowed in rivers as scenes portrayed the voracious beasts feasting on enemy humans or their hosts.

The images were a bloody reminder and warning of the dragons’ true nature. Wild beasts could never wholly be tamed.

The five Council leaders sat on a slightly raised dais at the back of the room, while rows of seats rose to the right and left of the central aisle for the rest of us. The rising height of the seating allowed onlookers a decent view no matter where they sat.

Dragons of every element were present. Not the spirits of the beasts, of course. That would be complete chaos. Just the humans hosting the vicious creatures.

Like most witches, elements separated dragon magic—water, air, earth, and fire.

The last of which was mostly made up of the Sato lineage.

It was impossible to tell just by looking at someone which elemental dragon they’d bonded with, but every once in a while, the dragon’s essence would spark within their pupils.

Flashes of blue, green, yellow, and red appeared around the room as I took my place beside Ichiro in one of the prime front-row locations.

My grandfather didn’t bother to acknowledge my presence, which was nothing new. However, I couldn’t afford him the same disrespect. Not yet.

I bowed formally to Ichiro and waited with a bent waist.

Long seconds passed before he finally deigned to grunt in my direction. In the past, I might have grown angry at the delay, but not today. No, not this day when I would bring Ichiro to his knees once and for all. I had to restrain my smile.

"You’re late," he said so quietly I almost didn’t catch it as I took my seat. "As heir, you should always arrive by my side."

I was only late by his standards. "My apologies, sir."

Little did he know, this would be the last time he attended a meeting.

A trumpet blasted a single note, effectively silencing the crowd, followed by the bright yellow light of an air dragon rising above our heads.

The dragon’s vicious visage hovered over the room like a ghost, then carried the musical note around the room, ensuring every attendee obeyed the call to order.

Once the dragon completed its duty, it dove to rejoin James, the Council herald.

James might have been young, but he always took his job seriously. His voice boomed like thunder as he announced the five Council leaders—Takemaru Hayashi, Sloane Vega, Avery Callahan, Robert Ward, and Mateo Serrano. Each entered as they were called and took their place on the dais.

The leaders represented each element, plus a respected elder who would cast a vote in the event of any ties. Our current elder, Robert Ward, was a water dragon. The human’s body was frail and stooped, his skin wrinkled and spotted. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Once the elder died, one of the other four would take his place, generally the next eldest. In doing so, a spot on the Council would open up to the rest of the members, and it was that seat Ichiro hoped to replace.

"The High Draconic Council has come to order," James declared. "The first order of business is a recent violation of our non-disclosure pact with the non-Gifted population."

As the meeting droned on, I only half-listened.

The other half of my brain reviewed what I would present to the Council to prove Ichiro’s guilt, confident in what we had after sleeping on it.

I would bring in the scientists as additional proof once I’d made my claim.

They had wisely chosen to value their lives more than their loyalty to my grandfather.

The promise of a large deposit into their bank accounts had encouraged their cooperation.

At last, the elder held up his wizened hand, calling for silence. "It is now time to bring forth any matters we have not yet discussed."

I stood and buttoned my jacket before moving to the steps leading down. Whispers circulated as I approached the dais.

On the last step, my phone chimed. Everyone I knew was here or knew I was here and not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Before reaching the dais, I withdrew my phone and looked at the screen. My blood ran cold, and I froze mid-step.

An image of Rin secured to a metal table appeared on the screen. A machine stood beside him, holding a bag of familiar blue liquid that dripped into a needle in his arm. His face was contorted in agony as steam drifted off his skin.

Oh, fuck.

He knew.