Page 9

Chapter 9

T alon

The Syndicate’s briefing room reeks of ambition and stale coffee. Six dragons in human skin arranged around a polished oak table, the air between us charged with power barely contained. I’ve been here thirty minutes, and already, my scales are shifting beneath my skin.

“Containment protocols on the Rossewyn witch are inadequate.” I keep my voice flat, disinterested—just another briefing. “The dampening field fluctuates during extractions. Drops twelve percent at peak moments.”

Creed’s jaw tightens. “Impossible. Those systems were upgraded last quarter.”

“See for yourself.” I slide the tablet across the table, data scrolling in neat columns. “Three consistent dips during yesterday’s session.”

He studies the numbers, forehead creasing with disapproval. Behind him, two junior officers shift uncomfortably. Everyone in this room knows what failure costs in the Syndicate hierarchy.

“These fluctuations coincide with her resistance spikes,” I add, careful to sound like I’m addressing a technical issue rather than defending her. “Suggests she’s accessing more power than previously documented.”

“Not possible.” The words snap from Dr. Emerson, the facility’s chief researcher. Gray hair pulled into a severe twist, lips permanently pursed in disapproval. “The witch’s abilities are fully documented and countered.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Then explain the data.”

Emerson flushes, scales briefly rippling beneath her skin. “Equipment malfunction. Nothing more.”

“Then you won’t mind if I implement additional security measures.” I don’t phrase it as a question. “Including a full review of handler protocols.”

The room temperature drops several degrees.

“Cole’s methods are proven,” Creed says, too quickly. “His record speaks for itself.”

“Without successful escape,” I correct. “Not the same thing.”

The silence stretches, loaded with unspoken warnings. My dragon senses shift, alert to the subtle changes in their scents—the metallic tang of anxiety, the smoky edge of anger.

“I want to understand Cole’s part in this,” I say, watching for reactions. “How does he control her?”

“Why is that necessary?” Creed scowls.

“If her power is fluctuating, we need to understand all containment measures.”

Creed and Emerson exchange a look loaded with meaning.

“Cole’s assignment was strategic,” Emerson says carefully. “His background makes him uniquely suited to managing the asset.”

“His background.” I let the words hang, invitation clear.

After a long pause, Creed nods once at Emerson. Permission granted.

“Hargen Cole possesses a rare sensitivity to magical energies,” she says, her voice clinical. “He can attenuate the extraction process, making it more efficient and less… damaging to the asset.”

“He’s magical?” My pulse quickens but I keep my reaction measured.

“In a way.” Emerson pulls up schematics on the wall display. “Through a specialized ritual, we’ve established a conduit between them. He moderates her power during extractions. Channels it. Controls it.”

“He can access her magic?” My tone remains professionally curious while my gut twists with something that feels uncomfortably like jealousy.

What the hell?

“Not access. Influence.” Emerson zooms in on a diagram. “The ritual creates a pathway. One-directional. He dampens her abilities, buffers the extraction process, prevents her from accessing her full power.”

The implications crawl under my skin. This man has been inside her mind. Connected to her magic. Present during her most vulnerable moments.

“But what makes him compliant?” I ask. “I’ve heard of loyalty to the cause, but this goes above and beyond. You’re not afraid he’ll change his mind?”

Creed scoffs. “Not going to happen. He’s bound.”

“Bound?” I frown.

“Magically,” Emerson interjects. “Cole’s sensitivity leaves him vulnerable to magical influence. He can no more leave her than she can leave him.”

Distaste floods me as I consider how little concern these people have for those around them. Nobody is more than a tool to them. Just another pawn in their game.

“And you’re certain the bond is secure?” I ask, voice steady despite the fire building in my lungs.

“It’s reinforced regularly,” Emerson says, bringing up a schedule. “The connection requires maintenance.”

“How?” The word comes out sharper than intended.

Creed’s eyes narrow at my tone. I force my shoulders to relax, face to smooth into professional curiosity.

“A ritualistic blood exchange,” Emerson answers vaguely. “Minimal. Just enough to re-establish the connection.”

“Interesting approach,” I say. “Seems… invasive.”

“It’s necessary,” Creed cuts in. “The witch’s power was unmanageable otherwise. We lost handlers before Cole. Her visions killed them.”

“I thought he was with her from the start.”

“He was on the team, but pretty soon, we could see that he was the only one who would be able to manage her. After the second death during a procedure that only he’d been able to survive, we realized he was our best option.” Emerson shrugs.

That can’t be right. Rossewyn witches channel prophecy, not death. Unless…

“She fought back,” I say, the realization dawning. “In the beginning.”

“Viciously.” Creed’s lip curls with grudging respect. “Until we found Cole. His presence calmed the visions, made them accessible without killing the receiver.”

“I want to observe more of the procedures,” I state, making it sound like security protocol rather than the visceral need to understand what they’ve done to her. “There could be improvements we could make.”

Creed rises, a subtle reminder of his authority. “Don’t interfere with Cole’s methods, Reeve. He’s peculiar about the witch. But he gets results.”

“Peculiar how?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

Creed shrugs, dismissive. “Handler syndrome. Common with long-term assignments. He keeps her functional; that’s what matters.”

“I need full access to the most recent extraction data,” I say, changing tactics. “The Craven readings. What exactly are we looking for?”

The atmosphere shifts instantly—tension coiling tighter in the room.

“That’s above your clearance, Reeve,” Creed says, too quickly.

I let my expression harden slightly. “Not if it affects facility security. These energy fluctuations have you pushing the witch beyond safe extraction limits. I need to understand what we’re facing.”

Creed and Emerson exchange another loaded glance.

“Show him,” Creed decides finally. “Limited access.”

Emerson taps her tablet reluctantly. The wall display shifts to a map of Seattle. Red dots pulse at various points, concentrated around what appears to be a towering office block.

“Craven Industries’ head office,” Emerson explains. “Six months ago, we detected unusual energy behavior around this location. Since then, the pattern has intensified.”

I study the map, recognition tickling at the back of my mind. “What kind of anomaly?”

“We believe it’s the Heartstone,” Creed says. “I think they’ve been keeping it there. And after centuries of dormancy, it’s responding to… something.”

“At Craven Towers,” I say unnecessarily, trying to process this.

“Well, of course. They are its guardians,” Emerson says with clear distaste.

“And what’s causing the instability?” I press.

A pause, heavy with hesitation.

“The witch’s visions suggest another magical influence,” Creed says carefully. “Something—or someone—is interacting with it.”

“Another witch?” I suggest, watching their reactions.

Emerson’s fingers tense on her tablet. “Impossible. The Rossewyn bloodline is extinct except for her.”

“Yet her visions show a connection,” Creed counters. “Something with similar energy signatures. We’ve tracked a pattern of interactions—someone within Craven Industries has accessed the Stone repeatedly.”

My pulse quickens. If they suspect another Rossewyn witch exists…

“Can she identify this person?” I ask.

“She claims the visions are unclear,” Emerson says with clear frustration. “But her resistance spikes whenever we press on this particular point.”

“She’s hiding something,” Creed adds, eyes narrowing. “Protecting someone, perhaps.”

My gut clenches at the implication. If Lila has a connection to someone within Craven Industries—someone capable of influencing the Heartstone—no wonder she fights to conceal it.

“What’s your objective regarding the Heartstone?” I ask, keeping my tone professionally curious.

Creed’s smile is cold. “Recovery and proper utilization. The Heartstone belongs with those who understand its true potential, not locked away to gather dust.”

“And the Shard?” I add, testing the waters.

The temperature in the room plummets. Creed’s eyes fix on mine.

“What do you know about the Shard?” His voice soft, dangerous.

I affect mild surprise. “It’s referenced in the reports. A fragment of the Heartstone, broken during an attempted theft during Kael’s time. I assumed it was part of your search parameters.”

Creed relaxes marginally. “Indeed. The Shard contains a portion of the Heartstone’s power. Our intelligence suggests it’s changed hands recently. The witch has been… uncooperative in helping us locate it.”

“We’ve had teams searching tirelessly,” Emerson adds. “Our acquisitions subsidiary has recovered numerous artifacts that might lead us to it. Until recently, progress was minimal.”

“Until recently?” I prompt.

Emerson’s lips thin. “We lost control of that subsidiary when Craven Industries executed a hostile takeover of NyxCorp, one of our holding companies. They’ve seized our research and artifacts.”

Interesting. The Cravens not only guard the Heartstone but actively blocked the Syndicate’s attempts to locate the Shard. And Lila’s visions are somehow tied to both.

“I take it recovery is a priority,” I say.

“The highest,” Creed confirms. “Which is why the witch’s cooperation is essential. She’s seen something—someone—connected to both the Heartstone and the Shard.”

The pieces click together in my mind. They suspect there’s someone else—someone Lila is protecting. Someone connected to the Heartstone and possibly the Shard.

“I’ll increase security protocols around her extractions,” I say smoothly, already calculating how to get this information to Viktor. “Perhaps a different approach might yield better results.”

“Just ensure she remains functional,” Creed says dismissively. “And secure. Her schedule will intensify in the coming weeks.”

The implication is clear—they plan to push her harder, risk more damage to extract what she’s protecting.

“Understood.” I exit before my expression can betray my thoughts.

In the empty corridor, I exhale slowly, processing the implications. The Syndicate is hunting for the Heartstone and its missing Shard. And they’re willing to break Lila to find them both.

I need to accelerate my timeline. Need to get her out before they push too far. Before they find the Shard or break her. Or both.

As I round the corner toward the monitoring station, I nearly collide with the object of my thoughts.

Hargen Cole steps back, straightening to his full height. “Sir,” he acknowledges, eyes watchful. “I was just submitting yesterday’s report.”

“Cole.” I nod, studying him with new interest. Not just a handler—a conduit for her power. A defense against the worst of the extraction process. “I’ve been reviewing your procedures.”

“So I’ve heard.” His tone reveals nothing, but tension radiates from him. “The process is delicate. Specialized.”

“Clearly.” I match his careful tone. “I’m particularly interested in this bond of yours. It wasn’t in the standard documentation.”

Something flickers behind his eyes—wariness, perhaps. “It’s tailored specifically to Ms. Ross. One of a kind.”

“Yet remarkably effective.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “Tell me, Cole, what happens during these… bond renewals?”

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps you should discuss that with Dr. Emerson. She oversees the technical aspects.”

“I’d rather hear it from you.” I hold his gaze. “Someone who understands the practical application, not just the theory.”

Cole studies me for a long moment, something calculating in his dark eyes.

“The process is… intimate,” he says finally. “Requires trust. Connection. Not something easily explained to an observer.”

The word “intimate” sends a pulse of irrational irritation through me. “I plan to understand, regardless,” I inform him.

“Of course.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “We all want what’s best for Lila, after all.”

Lila?

There’s something beneath his words—a current I can’t quite decipher. His emphasis on her name feels deliberate.

“Her welfare is a priority,” I agree carefully. “Asset preservation ensures continued functionality.”

“Indeed.” He studies me intently. “Though I’ve noticed your definition of preservation seems… personalized.”

Warning bells ring at the edge of my consciousness. “Meaning?”

“Just an observation.” His voice softens slightly. “In my experience, those who show particular interest in Ms. Ross tend to find themselves reassigned. Or worse.”

The subtle emphasis makes his meaning clear. Is he threatening me? Or warning me?

“I appreciate your concern,” I reply. “But my interest is purely professional.”

His smile is thin. “I’m sure she will be relieved to hear it.”

Before I can respond, he continues past me down the corridor, leaving me with the unsettling sensation that more was exchanged in our conversation than mere words.

I watch him go, mind turning over the interaction. Did Cole just subtly threaten me? Or did he warn me that my interest in Lila has been noticed? Either way, the implications are troubling.

And beneath it all, the larger revelation pulses with urgency. The Syndicate is hunting the Heartstone and its missing Shard. If they get their hands on them, they’ll pretty much have our entire species under their control. And they’ll kill Lila to get the information they need.

I need to get this intelligence to Viktor immediately. Someone near the Craven clan is working with the Heartstone—someone Lila is protecting fiercely enough to endure torture rather than reveal.

Someone worth killing for.

The mission parameters have shifted. The stakes just rose exponentially.

If Lila breaks and gives them what they want, we’re all in trouble.