Page 7

Chapter 7

T alon

I taste bile as I stride away from the extraction chamber, each step measured to conceal the rage burning beneath my skin. My dragon stirs, scales itching to break through as I round the corner and duck into a supply closet.

Fuck.

I press my forehead against the cool metal shelving, breathing deeply to cool the fire building in my lungs. What I just witnessed wasn’t interrogation. It wasn’t intelligence gathering. It was torture, sanitized with clinical terminology and chrome equipment.

The woman’s face flashes behind my eyelids. Pale skin stretched too tight over cheekbones, hair damp with sweat, blood trickling from her nose as they tore visions from her mind. Lila Ross. Not asset . Not witch . A woman with eyes that cut straight through my carefully constructed facade.

My fist clenches, knuckles whitening. I’ve seen Syndicate brutality before, but this… this was something else entirely. The calculated precision of her suffering, the routine of it. For so many years…

How is she still sane?

I check my watch. I have seven minutes before my “inspection” of the north quadrant security systems is expected to begin. Seven minutes to make contact.

The encrypted comms unit feels impossibly small as I press it into my ear.

“Aurora actual,” I murmur, the subvocal pickup catching my words without actual sound. “Talon checking in. Position secured.”

Static hisses for three seconds, then Zoe’s voice filters through. “Confirmed, Talon. Status?”

“In place. Security clearance established.” I keep my voice low. “I’ve made initial contact with the mark.”

“Assessment?”

I exhale slowly, organizing my thoughts. “Situation is worse than anticipated. They’re conducting regular extractions. Invasive. Dangerous. She’s strong, but…”

The image of Lila straining against the restraints flashes again, her body twisting in pain as they pushed deeper into her mind.

“She won’t last much longer at this rate,” I continue. “Creed is obsessed with some sort of activity near Craven turf. Pushing her beyond safety parameters.”

“Timeline adjustment needed?”

My jaw tightens. “Not yet. Need to assess the situation further, but we should prepare contingencies. I’ll need a clearer picture of security patterns and a better read on her handler.”

“Understood.” A pause. “Is she what Viktor believes? True Rossewyn?”

I think of the power I felt crackling beneath her skin when I adjusted her restraint—that brief moment of contact that sent a strange ripple of sensation through my skin.

“Yes.” No hesitation. “And more. There’s something about her…” I stop, unsure how to articulate the connection I felt. “She’s hiding something from them. I’m certain of it.”

“Can you secure private communication?”

“Working on it. Her handler, Hargen Cole—there’s something there. Protective. Might be leverage.”

“Careful, Talon.” Concern edges into Zoe’s typically detached voice. “If the handler’s loyal to her, he might expose you to protect her.”

“I know. I’ll move carefully.” I straighten, checking my watch again. “Need to go. Next contact in twenty-four hours unless emergency protocols initiated.”

“Confirmed. Aurora actual out.”

The comm goes silent. I pocket the tiny device and smooth my expression back into Allard Reeve’s professional detachment before stepping back into the corridor.

Security rounds take me past Lila’s quarters an hour later. Through the observation panel, I catch sight of Hargen administering something to her IV line. Her eyes are closed, face drawn with exhaustion, but some of the tension has eased from her body.

I tap the access pad, entering the security code I memorized from the briefing materials. The door slides open with a soft hiss.

Hargen looks up, surprise quickly masked by professional deference. “Sir. I wasn’t expecting a security check.” He straightens, pulling himself to his full height, which is perhaps a full inch taller than my own 6’2”. Again, I get that sense of protectiveness around her.

“Random protocol assessment,” I reply, stepping inside and letting the door close behind me. “Standard procedure when assuming command.”

My eyes scan the room, taking in details. Bookcases filled with what appear to be facility-approved texts. A small dining area. Modest bathroom visible through a partially open door. Comfortable furniture. And everywhere, tiny paper dragons. Hundreds of them, arranged on shelves and surfaces.

Not a cell, but not freedom either.

“She’s resting,” Hargen says quietly, adjusting something on the monitor beside her bed, although his bearing stays tense. “The extraction took more than usual.”

I move closer, keeping my posture rigid, hands clasped behind my back. “Recovery protocol?”

“Pain management,” he answers, something indefinable entering his voice. “Approved regimen.”

But the way he avoids my eyes tells me it’s not entirely by the book.

Interesting.

“Her vitals?” I ask, glancing at the monitors.

“Stabilizing. She’s… resilient.”

I study him as he works—efficient movements, gentle hands. Not what I expected from someone keeping a powerful witch captive for so long.

“You’ve been her handler since acquisition?” I keep my tone casually professional.

Hargen nods, not elaborating further.

“Unusual assignment length.”

He looks up, eyes darkening to something closer to obsidian before he controls whatever emotion caused it. “Consistency yields better results with seers. Changing handlers disrupts the process.”

“Logical.” I step closer to the bed, and something shifts inside me as I observe Lila at rest.

Her dark lashes cast shadows against her cheeks. Her hair catches the low light, gleaming like moonlight on water. Her lips, full despite her pallor, part slightly with each breath. Even unconscious, there’s a quiet dignity in the curve of her neck, the line of her collarbone visible above the plain gray facility shirt.

Heat rises unexpectedly beneath my skin.

What the fuck, asshole?

I shouldn’t be here, watching her like this—vulnerable, unaware of my presence. It feels invasive.

Yet I can’t look away. The fierce woman who challenged me in the extraction chamber is transformed in sleep, revealing a softness she carefully conceals when conscious. The contradiction fascinates me, awakens something protective and primal that has nothing to do with my mission.

This is dangerous territory.

I force my gaze back to Cole. “Has she always had this degree of resistance during extraction?” I ask, recalling how she fought the process despite the pain.

His hands still momentarily. “She’s… acclimated to the process over time.”

“I require full extraction records,” I state, turning away from the bed before my interest becomes too obvious. “All sessions, all outcomes. Patterns of resistance, techniques for optimal results.”

Something flickers across the man’s face—concern, perhaps. “The records are extensive. A significant amount of data.”

“I’ll start with the last six months.” I move toward the door, then pause as if struck by an afterthought. “Your assessment, Cole. Is the current extraction schedule sustainable?”

He hesitates, measuring his response carefully. “She’s showing signs of strain. Three full extractions in one week exceeds recommended protocols.”

“Noted.” I match his careful tone. “I’ll review the technical specifications of the equipment as well. Ensure everything is… optimal.”

Our eyes meet briefly, and I see the calculation behind his. He’s trying to read me, to understand if I’m a threat or a potential ally to his charge.

“I appreciate your thoroughness,” he finally says. “The facility’s assets are valuable. Irreplaceable, in her case.”

“Indeed.” I step toward the door, stealing one last glance at Lila. Her fingers twitch slightly against the blanket, and I wonder what she fights even in dreams. “Continue your work, Cole. I’ll expect those records by 0800 tomorrow.”

As the door slides closed behind me, I exhale slowly, trying to steady the unexpected turmoil in my blood. My dragon stirs restlessly beneath my skin, responding to something about her that defies logical explanation.

Turning away from her door, I put distance between myself and the woman who seems to be drawing me inexplicably back.

Get a grip, Raize.

It takes me several minutes to rebalance my composure.

Back in my assigned quarters, I sit at the desk and pull up the facility schematics on my secure tablet. Floor plans, security protocols, guard rotations—all memorized during preparation, but now I study them with new eyes.

Three potential extraction routes, each with complications. The service tunnel requires bypassing two security checkpoints. The emergency exit triggers immediate lockdown unless proper override codes are inputted. The loading dock offers fewer security barriers but maximum exposure.

None ideal for extracting a prisoner who might be weakened from these “routine” procedures.

I scrub a hand over my face, feeling the stubble rasp against my palm. This was always going to be complicated, but what I witnessed today changes the stakes. I need time—time to understand the rhythms of this place, to identify the true threats and potential allies, to gauge Lila’s condition between extractions.

Rushing means mistakes. Mistakes mean failure. Failure means death—for both of us.

I pull up a secure file, begin drafting contingency plans. Three variations for different scenarios. I mark Hargen Cole as a question mark—his loyalty to Lila evident but not yet something I can reliably use to my advantage.

The face of the woman in that bed haunts me as I work. The unexpected vulnerability that contrasted so sharply with her earlier defiance. The electric jolt when our skin connected briefly. The way her sleeping form awoke something in me that transcends the mission parameters.

I close the tablet and move to the window, staring out at the mountains beyond the facility. Somewhere out there, the world continues turning, oblivious to the woman being tortured for glimpses of its future. Oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface of dragon politics.

Whatever Lila sees in her visions has Creed desperate. Desperate enough to risk damaging her. That alone confirms Viktor’s suspicions—something significant is shifting in the balance of power.

And Lila Ross is at the center of it.

I press my palm against the cool glass, feeling the beast stir beneath my skin in response to my heightened emotions. My admiration for her resilience mixes dangerously with the attraction that caught me off guard at her bedside—a complication I didn’t anticipate and can’t afford.

I take a steadying breath, tamping down the fire building in my chest. She doesn’t need another dragon’s misplaced emotions complicating things. She needs careful planning. Sound strategy. Security from those who would use her.

The mission remains clear: confirm her abilities, assess her value to the Aurora Collective, and extract when the time is right. But now there’s a personal element I can’t deny—I want to see her free. Want to know who Lila Ross is beyond the defiant prisoner, beyond the powerful witch.

For now, I’ll watch. Learn. Build trust where possible. Understand what makes Cole protect her despite his role in her torment. Find the leverage points in this facility’s security.

And when the time comes, I’ll be ready to act.

But not yet. Not until I’m certain I can get her out alive.