Page 22

Chapter 22

L ila

The Shard burns against my palms, its crimson light pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Two weeks since dragons tore through Seattle’s skies, and I’m still a prisoner. Still a tool.

Better than being dead, I guess.

“Focus, Ms. Ross.” Emerson’s voice slices through my concentration. “The connection is unstable.”

“Where’s Creed?” I ask, stalling. My fingers trace the Shard’s edges, feeling power hum beneath them.

“That’s none of your concern.” Emerson taps her tablet. “Establish the connection. Now.”

Her impatience is telling. Creed’s absence during a major operation can only mean one thing—he’s in the field. Whatever this mission entails, it’s important enough for him to oversee personally.

I close my eyes, reluctantly opening myself to the Shard’s power. This isn’t like the extractions—those violent invasions of my mind to rip out visions. This is worse. They want me to reach through the crystal, to touch another dragon’s consciousness, to bend their will to mine.

To make them betray everything they are.

The magic surges up my arms like liquid fire, burning pathways through veins and nerves. I gasp as the power crests. Unlike previous sessions, I don’t fight it—not visibly. But deep in my mind, where they can’t see, I weave subtle flaws into the connection. Not enough to alert Emerson, but enough to ensure imperfection.

My consciousness stretches outward, seeking out the mind I’ve been connecting with. Serena Maze. The dragon elder whose loyalty to the Craven clan apparently has limits.

I find her easily—too easily. She’s been prepared somehow, her defenses weakened. The Shard’s energy wraps around her consciousness like crimson threads, binding her thoughts to mine.

Serena.

Her mind flinches at my intrusion. Witch.

I’m sorry.

And I am. Despite everything, despite what they’re forcing me to do, I feel genuine regret at violating another being this way.

Images flash as our minds connect—Serena in a sleek black car, driving through Seattle’s rain-slick streets. The elegant dragon elder seems composed, but I sense the struggle beneath her calm exterior. Part of her fights what I’m doing, even as the Shard’s power forces her submission.

A silver-haired woman sits beside her. Through Serena’s thoughts, I recognize her as Lydia James—another clan elder from the Cravens. She’s speaking, unaware of what’s happening behind Serena’s eyes.

“I worry about our Caleb,” Lydia says, frowning at the rain-streaked windows. I wish he’d tell us more about what’s going on.”

“Our leader has always kept his own counsel.” Serena’s voice sounds normal, though I feel the strain of her speaking words I feed her. “Although these precautions seem excessive, even for him.”

“After the tower incident, can you blame him?”

“Guess not,” Serena says, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

My heart stops.

Elena. My daughter. She’s sitting in the backseat behind us. This is the mission they’ve been planning for.

“No!” I choke out. “No, I won’t do this!” I shake my head so wildly that my hair flies about my face.

“We anticipated this from you,” Emerson says, jerking her head at the guard beside the door. He opens it, and I see Hargen standing there. There’s regret in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Lila.”

“You…” I glance at Emerson. “If you think he’ll convince me, you’re wrong.”

“Really?” Her lip curls. “Show her we mean business, guard.”

Hargen gives a stumbling step forward, and I see that there are two armed men behind him. One of them holds a weapon to the base of his skull, a finger on the trigger.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” Hargen says.

“Take control,” Emerson barks, monitoring my vitals. “Stop passively observing. We need hands on the target. Do it. Now.”

“I will not!” I growl out.

“Fine.” Emerson nods at the second guard. “Do it,” she says.

The guard angles his weapon almost casually and pulls the trigger. The explosion in the small room tears a scream from me. Hargen lets out a guttural cry and staggers forward, clapping a hand to his shoulder where blood is now blooming through the front of his torn uniform. The bullet has passed right through him, leaving torn flesh and gore in its wake.

“You… You shot him!” I gasp, feeling my eyes widen with horror. Nausea churns in the pit of my belly.

Hargen sways but stays on his feet, blood pulsing through his fingers where he’s clamped them over the wound.

“Yes,” says Emerson coolly. “And we’ll do it again if you don’t cooperate. It takes a long time for a man to die if you don’t hit anything vital. But I can assure you, it hurts.”

God! Oh, my God!

I swallow hard, feeling the tremor build in my hands. They’re using Serena to get to Elena. Using me to control the dragon to trap my own child. And using Hargen to force me to do it.

A savage desire to resist rises in me—to break the connection, to refuse. But I have no doubt that they’ll kill Hargen. And before they do that, they’re going to torture him.

“I’m okay, Lila,” Hargen grits out through clenched teeth. Although the sudden pallor of his blood-spattered face tells me he’s anything but okay.

I have to do it. Better to maintain the illusion of compliance while sabotaging from within.

“Okay,” I say hoarsely, turning my attention back to the Shard.

Pull over, I command Serena. Her hands tighten on the steering wheel, but she signals and guides the car to the curb. I feel her fighting the compulsion, struggling against the Shard’s influence.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asks, surprise evident in her tone.

I feed Serena words, deliberately leaving gaps for her to resist. “Need… to check something.”

Through Serena’s eyes, I watch Lydia’s expression shift from confusion to suspicion.

“What’s wrong with you?” The older woman’s hand moves subtly toward her coat.

Now. I release my control just enough, giving Serena an opening. She seizes it, momentarily breaking through.

“Run,” she gasps, her true voice emerging. “Trap—”

Before she can finish, I’m forced to clamp down again as Emerson notices the fluctuation.

“Stabilize the connection,” she snaps, moving closer. “What’s happening?”

“Interference,” I lie, strengthening the bond while still concealing my deliberate sabotage. “She’s fighting back.”

Through Serena’s eyes, I watch Lydia reach for her phone, alarm written across her features. But it’s too late. Black SUVs screech to a halt around their car, boxing them in. Syndicate operatives emerge, moving with intent.

And among them, striding with cold purpose—Creed.

“What are you waiting for?” Emerson demands, watching me closely, noting how the monitors are dipping. “Do something.”

I grit my teeth and push Serena to move. To my horror, her body responds immediately, hand snapping out to grab Lydia’s wrist before she can complete her call.

“Serena, what—?”

The elder’s words cut off as Serena’s other hand grips her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Serena whispers, her true self bleeding through again as I deliberately weaken my control.

Syndicate operatives wrench open the car doors, dragging Lydia out. She fights, ancient dragon strength making her formidable even against multiple attackers. Scales ripple beneath her skin as she partially shifts, a roar building in her throat.

Two operatives inject something into her neck. She convulses, then goes limp.

I choke back a scream as they drag Elena from the car. My daughter struggles, fire crackling between her fingers, Rossewyn magic awakening in her blood. Pride and terror war within me as I watch through Serena’s eyes.

“Let me go!” Elena shouts, her power flaring.

Creed steps forward, unfazed. “Ms. Ross. At last.”

Two dragons flank him, shifting partially, scales gleaming beneath their skin. Elena’s magic surges, but she’s untrained, unprepared. They overwhelm her in seconds.

“The tunnels,” Creed commands. “Secure containment protocols.”

Through Serena, I’m forced to watch as they bind Elena’s hands with spelled restraints. My daughter’s eyes dart around, searching for escape, landing briefly on Serena’s face.

“Why?” she asks, betrayal raw in her voice.

I try to make Serena speak, but the elder’s will reasserts itself unexpectedly. She’s cooperating now, her resistance fading.

“It’s necessary,” Serena says, her voice entirely her own. Confusing me.

They load Elena into an SUV, surrounded by guards.

Creed’s cold smile sends ice through my veins as he turns to Serena. “Well done. Your sister will be pleased to know you’re not signing her death sentence today.”

I stiffen as I realize what’s happening. He’s threatening someone she cares about. He’s got more leverage over her. Not just me. Probably because he knows I’d try to fight this. Alastair Creed didn’t get to where he is by being a fool.

The scene shifts. Serena must have taken over because I didn’t have control of the past few minutes. We’re in a tunnel, someplace dark. Water drips. Elena is standing unbound, looking around us. Creed stands beside her, eyes cold as he watches her face.

“What do you want from me?” she snaps.

“An invitation,” Creed says smoothly. “Work with us. Help us control the Heartstone, to take our kind to its rightful place in the world. As its rulers.”

“What?” she snaps. “You’re asking me to help you take over the planet?” She scoffs. “Never. I’ll die first.”

Creed gives a dry chuckle. “I expected you’d say that. We have something I believe you’d very much like to see.”

He lifts a tablet, turning it to show a video feed. My heart seizes as I recognize the figure on screen—it’s me, captive in my sterile cell.

Elena stares for a moment, a storm of expressions flickering across her features.

“Mom?” she whispers, and my heart nearly bursts. Joy and anguish twist through me. She knows me. She remembers me.

“Alive, as you can see,” Creed continues. “For now.”

Elena’s face hardens. “What do you want?”

“The Heartstone. Bring it to us, and your mother goes free.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Her voice drips with contempt.

“You don’t have an option.” Creed smiles thinly. “The Syndicate has held her for decades. We can hold her for decades more.”

Elena’s eyes narrow. I see her calculating, assessing, forming a plan.

“I’ll need proof she’s alive,” she stalls. “Not a recording. Live connection.”

“Arrangements can be made.” Creed steps closer. “But right now, you’ll be coming with us.”

“I don’t think so,” says my daughter.

What happens next takes me completely by surprise.

Elena moves so fast that I barely register it. A blast of magic erupts from her palms, sending two operatives flying. She ducks a third, spinning to kick him sharply in the knee. The crack of breaking bone makes me flinch.

Pride surges through me, fierce and bright. My daughter fights like a warrior. Like someone who’s had to protect herself her entire life.

Because of my absence. Because I wasn’t there.

“Subdue her!” Creed orders, falling back as the fight intensifies.

An operative lunges forward, but Elena sidesteps and slams her palm into his sternum with magic-enhanced strength. I feel Serena hovering uncertainly, caught between her conscience and fear of the consequences.

“Do something!” Creed yells, and Serena steps forward, but at the last moment, I latch onto her mind, forcing her to turn straight into the path of Elena’s next blast.

Serena flies backward. Creed shouts out a curse, but Elena flicks a hand, and he’s sent spinning through the air.

“Witch! What are you doing?” Emerson shouts at me, noticing the fluctuation in our connection. “Maintain control!”

I force my expression to show strain rather than deliberate sabotage. “She’s too strong—fighting back.”

Through Serena’s eyes, I watch my daughter battle. She’s outnumbered, but her power flares brightly, creating space around her. One operative goes down. Another. A third retreats, nursing a broken arm.

More operatives move in, but Elena’s power erupts outward in a wave that knocks them back. Her eyes blaze with fire—Rossewyn magic in its raw form. They took her by surprise before, but now, she’s ready to tackle them.

Suddenly, footsteps thunder down the tunnel, and a tall figure emerges from the shadows. Caleb Craven, his eyes blazing amber as partial scales ripple beneath his skin.

“Elena!” he roars, the sound more dragon than human.

Three more dragons pour from the tunnel behind him, shifting partially as they move. They form a protective circle around my daughter, whose magic still crackles between her fingers.

Creed’s face contorts with fury. “Fall back!” he orders, grabbing Serena’s arm roughly. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I feel Serena’s confusion through our connection as Creed drags her back down the tunnel. “But the witch—”

“I said we’re leaving,” Creed hisses. “This battle is lost.”

Through Serena’s retreating gaze, I watch Elena collapse into Caleb’s arms, exhaustion finally claiming her. The tenderness in his expression as he holds her makes my throat tighten.

“This isn’t over,” are the last words I hear Creed mutter before I lose contact again.

“We’re losing the witch!” Emerson snaps. “Strengthen your control!”

I feign strain, pressing my palms harder against the Shard. “I… I can’t! The connection is too weak.”

It’s not entirely a lie. My control over Serena is fluctuating, perhaps because I’m not strong enough right now or maybe because her own motives are so conflicted. I feel like a passenger as she hurries to keep up with Creed, who’s moving through the dark maze at speed.

“Change of plans,” Creed snarls, turning to his team. “Find the other Craven. The brother.”

“Dorian?” Serena asks, my control slipping enough for her true self to emerge.

“If we can’t leverage the witch, we’ll leverage family,” Creed says, cold calculation replacing rage. “Find him.”

The scene shifts rapidly as they move through a hive of underground levels, following intelligence about Dorian Craven’s location. I watch in dismay as he walks straight into their trap. Dark-haired, fierce-eyed, the family resemblance to Caleb is unmistakable.

Dorian fights with dragon ferocity, taking down two operatives before they overwhelm him with specialized weapons. Chains that burn his skin on contact, forcing him back to human form.

They drag him upward, through service corridors, toward an exit. He’s bleeding heavily, weakened by whatever magic the chains contain.

Outside, in what appears to be a construction site adjacent to the office towers, they form a circle around him.

“Your brother will come for you,” Creed tells the wounded dragon. “And he’ll bring the Heartstone to save you.”

“You’ve miscalculated,” Dorian chokes out. “Caleb’s duty to the clan comes first. He’ll come… to end you.”

“Perhaps.” Creed gestures to his followers. “But we’ve added insurance.”

The dragons around him inhale deeply, then exhale in perfect unison. Flames erupt in a circle, creating a barrier of fire.

Dorian continues to fight while Creed watches with amusement.

“It’s only a matter of time now,” Creed says. “Soon, the only Cravens left will be the ones who join our order.”

That’s when I see her.

A small figure approaches through the night, moving with purpose toward the flames. Even through Serena’s eyes, I recognize what’s happening before anyone else does.

This is the woman from my visions. The one I’ve glimpsed rising from ash and fire.

“Juno!” Dorian cries out, struggling against his chains. “Stay back!”

But she doesn’t stop. She walks directly into the flames.

For one terrible moment, I think I’m witnessing her death. Then something extraordinary happens.

The fire doesn’t consume her—it embraces her. Flames curl around her body like living silk, responding to her presence. Her skin begins to glow from within, illuminating delicate features with amber light.

“What the—?” Creed turns, sensing the disturbance, eyes widening in shock.

Light explodes outward, blinding in its intensity. I see the woman at its center, her body transforming in ways I’ve never witnessed. Not dragon—something else entirely. Something ancient. Something reborn.

Wings unfurl from her back, feathered with light rather than scaled like a dragon’s. Her arms extend, fingers elongating into golden primary feathers that shimmer with fire.

Holy shit… A phoenix!

The creature—Juno—rises into the air on wings of flame. Three dragons launch forward to intercept her.

They don’t stand a chance.

Golden fire erupts from her wings in a perfect circle, engulfing the first dragon completely. One moment it exists, the next there’s nothing but ash drifting on thermal currents. The other two follow, erased from existence with terrifying efficiency.

Below, Creed exchanges a panicked glance with Serena.

“Retreat!” he orders, already running. “Fall back!”

I feel Serena’s relief as my control shatters completely. The phoenix dives toward Dorian, wings folding close to her body. The flames part as she passes through them, landing beside his broken form.

She touches the chains binding him, and they dissolve into nothing. As she gathers him in her arms, cradling him against her body, I catch a glimpse of her face.

Not just power there. Love. Fierce, protective love.

The vision cuts off abruptly as the connection breaks. I slump forward, the Shard slipping from my bloodied palms to clatter on the table.

“What have you done?” Emerson’s voice cuts through the laboratory, sharp with rage. “You deliberately sabotaged the connection!”

I look up at her, not bothering to hide my satisfaction. “Oops.”

She hits me so hard my ears ring. I taste blood, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except what I’ve just witnessed.

My daughter, fighting back. A phoenix rising from flame. A world transforming beyond anything the Syndicate can control.

“You’ve sealed your fate,” Emerson hisses, face contorted with fury. “Creed will execute you for this.”

I smile through bloody lips. “Probably. Or maybe he’ll keep me… because he sure as shit isn’t getting his hands on my girl.”

The strange thing is, I’m not afraid. I’ve lived in captivity for too long, endured too much. Watching my daughter’s strength, seeing the phoenix emerge—it feels like witnessing the start of something I’ve sensed coming for years.

The old order dies. The new emerges. And I played my small part in it.

Guards drag me from the laboratory, back toward my sterile cell. I don’t resist. My body aches from the backlash of the broken connection, but my spirit feels lighter than it has in years.

I saw my daughter today. My Elena. Strong, fierce, unwilling to be used or controlled.

She is everything I hoped she would become, everything I sacrificed to protect.

And if my death is the price for her freedom, it’s one I’ll pay gladly.