Page 13

Chapter 13

L ila

Nothing exists here but fire.

I float in a sea of crimson flame, neither burning nor consumed. Time has no meaning in this place between consciousness and oblivion. No walls. No restraints. No extraction chair digging into my flesh.

Freedom… of a sort.

And uncontrolled visions.

Elena stands in a towering lobby, light streaming through glass walls. Her dark hair catches the sun, highlighting strands of copper I never knew existed. She’s grown into her beauty—my high cheekbones, but a stronger jaw, more determined. More sure of herself than I ever was at her age.

A receptionist smiles. “Mr. Craven will see you now.”

The vision shifts, blurring. Fragments assault me in rapid succession.

Elena in an elevator, ascending. Heart racing. Nervous but focused. Professional. Driven. My daughter.

Then she’s in an office, face-to-face with him. The man who will change everything.

Caleb Craven. Dragon. CEO. Keeper of secrets too dangerous to name. Tall, imposing, with amber eyes that burn with ancient fire. Something electric passes between them—a spark neither understands but both feel. His gaze lingers on her face longer than professionally appropriate. Her pulse quickens when their hands meet.

My daughter and a dragon. Their energies intertwine, resonating with an ancient harmony neither recognizes. A connection as old as our bloodlines.

The vision shatters, bursting into new scenes.

Elena examining files in a darkened archive. The Heartstone pulsing behind sealed doors, responding to her presence though she doesn’t know it.

Elena and Caleb in his office. Standing too close. His fingertips brushing her cheek. The air between them charged with more than professional interest.

Elena’s face lighting up when he enters a room. His eyes following her across crowded spaces.

Then darkness descends. A figure emerges from shadows; limping, powerful, ancient. An older dragon with eyes that have witnessed centuries of carnage. Something in my memory stirs. A name hovers just beyond reach.

He watches Elena with calculated intent. Waits. Plans.

“She’s the key,” his voice slithers through the vision. “Rossewyn blood. The last piece.”

A battle erupts. Fire and blood. Dragons revealed. Elena’s screams.

No. No. NO!

I thrash against the visions, trying to break free. Pain slices through the crimson void, real pain, physical pain, anchoring me to a body I’d forgotten existed. I grasp it like a lifeline, using it to pull myself upward through layers of unconsciousness.

The weight of reality crashes down. My eyelids feel sealed shut, impossibly heavy. My throat burns as if I’ve swallowed glass. Every nerve ending screams.

I’m alive. Somehow.

Voices filter through the haze, distant at first, then clearer.

“—neural pathways still damaged. No guarantee she’ll ever—”

“She’s strong. She’ll fight her way back.” A man’s voice. Familiar. Not Hargen. A voice that draws me back from the brink.

“The Syndicate doesn’t keep non-functional assets, Reeve. You know the protocol.”

Footsteps retreat. A door closes. Silence settles.

Something warm envelops my hand. Fingers intertwining with mine, the touch gentle but firm.

“Lila.” The voice drops lower, a rumble I feel more than hear. “I know you’re in there. I know you’re fighting.”

Reeve. No—Allard. But that feels wrong somehow. The stranger who’s already become so much more. I’ve seen his face in my visions, too; he means something I can’t comprehend. Something that takes too much energy to focus on when I’m already overwhelmed by everything else. By trying to survive.

Memory returns in painful flashes. The extraction. The Shard forced into my palm. The name torn from my throat.

Elena.

They know. They know about my daughter.

Panic surges. I struggle to open my eyes, to move, to speak. Nothing responds. My body remains a prison, unresponsive to my desperate commands.

“I’m sorry.” His voice roughens with emotion. “I should have stopped them. Should have done something sooner.”

His thumb strokes my forearm, the gentle motion at odds with the fury simmering beneath his words.

“They found her.” A pause. “Elena. Your daughter. They know where she is,” he confirms my worst fears.

No!

My heart monitor spikes, the only external sign of my internal scream.

My daughter. My beautiful girl. Walking straight into their trap.

I push against the paralysis with everything I have. One finger twitches against his palm—a tiny victory that costs immense effort.

Allard’s breath catches. “Lila? Can you hear me?”

Another twitch.

Yes. I’m here. I’m listening.

“Fight, Lila.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Come back. Your daughter needs you.” His voice drops even lower, almost inaudible. “I need you.”

Did he just say that?

I need more than twitching fingers. Need my voice, my strength. Need to warn her, protect her, save her from the fate I’ve spent my life trying to prevent.

Darkness creeps in at the edges of consciousness. I fight it.

Please, God, not now. Not when I’m so close.

“Stay with me.” His hand cradles my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “I know you can do this.”

I focus everything on opening my eyes. Just that. Nothing else matters.

My eyelids flutter. Once. Twice.

Light stabs like daggers. I suck in a breath and flinch away from it, the movement sending fresh pain cascading through my body.

“Easy.” Allard’s face swims into focus, features sharpening slowly. The worry in his eyes softens to relief. “There you are.”

“E-Elena.” Her name scrapes my raw throat, husky. Then I suck in a breath as I realize what I just said.

“It’s fine. You can trust me.” His eyes lock with mine, and God help me, I find that I want to. And what choice do I have?

“Is she…?” I begin.

“She’s okay.” He leans closer, voice dropping. “The Syndicate has eyes on her, but they don’t have their hands on her. Not yet.”

I try to sit up. My body betrays me, muscles refusing to cooperate. Frustration burns hot and useless.

“Careful.” His arm slides behind my shoulders, supporting me as he adjusts the bed. “You’ve been unconscious for four days.”

Four days!

My daughter exposed and vulnerable for four days while I floated in a sea of fire.

“Water,” I croak.

He brings a straw to my lips. The cool liquid soothes my ravaged throat, though swallowing feels like knives.

“They know,” I manage after a moment. “About Elena. The Heartstone.”

“Yes.” No point denying it. “She’s an investigator. They used a Syndicate firm to hire her to infiltrate Craven Industries. She started yesterday morning.”

Yesterday. Not a vision of what might be, but what is already happening. My visions showed truth—Elena meeting a Craven, the connection neither understands, the danger lurking in shadows.

“She doesn’t know what she is.” My voice strengthens slightly with urgency. “Doesn’t know about the Rossewyn bloodline. About her abilities.”

“They’re counting on that.” Allard’s expression darkens. “Her ignorance makes her the perfect pawn.”

I close my eyes against a wave of dizziness. “How much time?”

“Before what?”

“Before she…” I struggle to form the words, to explain what I’ve seen. “The Heartstone will respond to her presence. They’ll use her to find it. To take it.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes. “You’ve seen this.”

“Fragments. While I was… out.” I grip his hand with what little strength I have. “She’s in danger. Caleb Craven—”

“Is as much a target as she is,” he finishes. “The Syndicate wants what his family protects.”

“Not just the Syndicate.” The memory of the limping dragon in my vision sends ice through my veins. “Others. Watching. Waiting.”

Allard’s eyes narrow. “Who, Lila? Who else threatens her?” He presses my hand. “Please, Lila. We don’t have much time before they notice I’ve put the cameras in sleep mode.”

I search the fragments of my vision, grasping for the detail that hovers just beyond reach. It comes suddenly, bursting into my consciousness.

“Iron… Steel… Very strong.” The words emerge from the depths of my consciousness. “Ancient dragon. Powerful. Ruthless. He wants her.”

Allard goes perfectly still, only his eyes betraying his shock. “Ancient dragon? You’ve seen this? In your visions?”

I nod weakly. “He wants to take her, too. For the Heartstone.”

“Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture unexpectedly human for a being so controlled. “Another faction. This complicates things.”

I try to push myself up again, managing to lean forward with his help. Each movement sends lightning bolts of pain through my skull, aftereffects of the brutal extraction.

“Where’s Hargen?” I ask, suddenly aware of my handler’s absence.

“Meeting with Creed. Explaining your medical status. Buying time.” Allard’s expression softens slightly. “He’s been by your side since they brought you in. Only left when ordered.”

Of course. Hargen has always protected me as much as his position allows. The bond between us gives him little choice, but I’ve long suspected his care goes beyond magical compulsion.

“How bad is it?” I ask, gesturing weakly to my own body. “The damage.”

“Bad enough.” He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “They pushed too far. Tore pathways in your mind that may never fully heal.”

I absorb this, the reality of what they’ve done to me settling like lead in my bones. “And Creed?”

“Focused on Elena now. You’re secondary. Useful if you recover, disposable if you don’t.”

The brutal truth doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always been a means to an end.

“My daughter,” I insist. “I need to warn her.”

“You can barely sit up,” Allard reminds me gently. “And she’s surrounded by Syndicate surveillance. Do you honestly think you could reach out to her?”

Logic. Cold and irrefutable. I close my eyes against the truth of it.

“Then what?” My voice catches. “I watch her walk into their trap? Let history repeat itself?”

“No.” The firmness in his tone draws my gaze back to his face. “We get you out of here. Then we help her.”

“Out?” I stare at him. Did I hear him correctly? A spark ignites in my chest. Something I’d forgotten existed. Hope.

Don’t go there, Lila. It’s a trap.

“There is a way,” he continues quietly. “But you need to trust me.”

That word again.

I search his face, looking for some sign of deceit and finding none. This man I barely know, yet who looks at me with such fierce intensity that it steals my breath.

“Why would you help me?” I whisper against my better judgment. “Risk everything for me?”

Something flickers in his eyes, an emotion I can’t name. “Let’s just say I recognize injustice when I see it.”

I sense there’s more he isn’t saying, but weakness washes over me in waves, making it hard to push.

“I can’t leave her,” I say instead. “Not when she’s in danger.”

“The best way to help her is to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can recover your strength, your power.” His hand finds mine again, the warmth steadying. “You’re no good to her like this.”

The truth of his words stings, but I can’t deny them. In my current state, I’m useless to Elena.

“I haven’t been outside these walls in decades,” I murmur, the reality of what he’s suggesting sinking in. “I don’t even know if I remember how to exist out there.”

“One step at a time.” His voice gentles. “First, you recover enough strength to move. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

A wave of fatigue washes over me. Even this brief conversation drains what little strength I’ve regained. But beneath the exhaustion, that tiny spark glows brighter.

Freedom.

The word feels strange in my mind. Foreign. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

The door opens before I can respond. Hargen enters, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes widen when he sees me conscious.

“Lila.” He strides to the bed, relief plain on his normally emotionless face. “You’re awake.”

“Barely.” My voice cracks on the word.

His hand hovers near mine, not quite touching. “How do you feel?”

“Like I died and someone dragged me back.”

He almost smiles. “Close enough to the truth.”

His eyes move to Allard, something unspoken passing between them. An alliance I never expected. Two men setting aside whatever differences exist between them, united in what appears to be concern for my well-being.

“Creed wants an update on her condition,” Hargen tells Allard. “I’ve bought us some time, but he’ll expect results soon.”

Allard nods. “I’ll handle it. Stay with her. I’ll have to reactivate the security surveillance, so keep it professional.”

Our eyes meet one last time before he leaves, that strange connection still pulsing between us. He’s not what he seems. Not the cold Syndicate operative he pretends to be. The realization should frighten me, but instead, it feeds that dangerous spark of hope.

As the door closes behind him, I turn to Hargen.

“Tell me everything,” I demand, voice stronger than I feel. “About my daughter. About what happens next.”

Hargen sits beside me, his presence familiar and steadying after days lost in visions. “It’s complicated, Lila.”

“It always is.” I reach for his hand, gripping it with what little strength I have. “But I won’t survive in this place much longer.”

His fingers curl around mine, warm and solid. “Then I guess we need a plan.”

“Yes.” I close my eyes, Elena’s face hovering in my mind’s eye. Years of separation, of sacrifice, of protection from afar. “We need a plan.”

And it begins with getting strong enough to fight. For my daughter. For myself. For the future I’ve glimpsed in flames.