by Olivia Ash
“The override devices primarily,” Jace says with a small shrug. “They're the most intricate, complex machines we've ever seen. Even with the detailed specs you gave us, we're not entirely sure how they work. It'll take reverse engineering several of the components before we can get those up and running.”
“I can give you a few of my guys,” Drew says, looking at Jace. “I have a few human tech experts who might be useful.”
Irena frowns, her bright green eyes darting between the two of them with a hint of confusion on her face. “You two are working together now? Did I miss something?”
The four of us laugh.
Yeah, I would say she missed a lot.
“I'll tell you later, Irena,” I say, grinning.
I half expect her to laugh along with us, but her frown only deepens. Her gaze settles on Levi's knuckle as he gently strokes my arm, and there's a sense of loss in her expression as she quickly looks away.
She wants that.
Irena wants what I have. My men. This connection we share. She aches for it even though she tells herself otherwise. She aches to trust, to let her guard down, and I figure she still hasn't come to terms with Benjamin's betrayal.
Seeing how well we get along, how strong our bond is—it must be like salt in a wound for her right now.
It'll take time for her to heal from this, and my heart hurts for her.
Never one to sit too long with a feeling—especially an unpleasant one—Irena cracks her knuckles. “I spent today reaching out to my network and confirmed the names of the two people who betrayed us on the storage raid.”
The last of the laughter dies, and the room becomes quickly somber. There's an eerie silence as we wait for names like bloodthirsty hounds, thirsting for the scent so we can hunt.
“Who are they?” I ask, breaking the tense silence.
“You don't know them,” Irena says, shaking her head.
Hmm.
Interesting, since I know at least one of them.
I get the distinct impression she just lied to me, but her tells weren’t there. If she lied, she hid it expertly well.
“So, what are you going to do?” I ask, baiting her, daring her to say what I think she's going to say.
Irena squares her shoulders. “I'm going to see what else they know, and then I'm going to kill them.”
Around me, Jace, Drew, and Levi all nod. Their mouths are grim lines on their handsome faces, and their eyes are all focused on her.
But the unspoken agreement that these men must die, well, it’s just a given.
It's a bleak reality of our world that we can discuss death and murder in such a blasé fashion. It’s just the reality of our lives as warriors. As dragons. As former assassins.
If we let traitors live, there will never be a truce. Down the line, it will always become a choice: us or them.
Even though we're all looking at her, it seems like only I’m able to see the deep hurt in the way Irena can't hold my gaze—in the way she keeps tensing her jaw and shifting her weight. They’re subtle movements that most people would miss entirely, but to me, they betray her deep discomfort.
Apparently, she really liked this Benjamin guy.
It makes me want to kill him all the more for breaking her heart so completely.
At this point, it's obvious she wants to go alone, but I'm not even going to consider it.
“When are we leaving?” I ask casually as if it's a given that I'm going. “I figure it should be just me and Irena though, since these traitors will probably be spooked if we bring any more company than that. We still want to get intel from them, after all, and we can dangle my presence there as a bit of bait.”
“Good idea, Rory,” Jace says, relaxing into his chair. “What sort of weapons will you guys need?”
The room goes silent, and everyone instantly looks at Jace with various dumbfounded expressions.
He quickly scans the room. “What?” he asks, genuinely baffled.
Drew laughs, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes. “You’ve spent the last how many months trying to lock her away, and now suddenly you’re throwing her into the line of fire?”
Jace rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m not throwing her—”
“Is there any middle ground with you?” Drew interrupts, still chuckling.
“Rory, you're not coming,” Irena interjects, crossing her arms as she looks at me intently.
I scoff. “The hell I'm not. I won't let you go out there alone.”
“It's non-negotiable,” she says slowly, shaking her head. “I need to go underground to get to him, to get to them both. I need to…” She trails off, her eyes quickly darting around the room. “Begin,” she finishes vaguely.
Around me, my men narrow their eyes with skeptic concern, but I know exactly what she's talking about.
I impulsively stiffen, leaning forward as I try to think of how I can convince her not to do this. Not yet anyway.
The beginning—of her destroying the Spectres from within.
The beginning of her death march.
She's going to work her contacts and get things started. In her mind, it's time to unravel the Spectres from within. But in my mind, she's not ready. Until she accepts what she is—a dragon, not just a former Spectre—she won't be.
“You can't stop me,” Irena says before I can get a word in edgewise.
“Irena, you're not ready,” I snap.
“I'm fine,” she says, her tone even and steady.
“You were just shot.” I gesture toward her abdomen, toward the bandage I know is still there. Toward the wound I know still hurts her.
“Yeah,” she says, a hint of boredom in her tone. “And I'm better. Dragon blood or whatever. Right?”
I roll my eyes and rub my face, not entirely sure how I can make her see reason. “Jace, order her to stay.”
The dojo master laughs. “I'm not getting in the middle of this, Rory. You Quinn girls need to work this out.”
“Rory, stop this!” Irena barks.
The harsh demand cuts through the room, and tension builds in the lingering silence.
No one talks to me that way.
Especially not since I became the dragon vessel.
I bristle at the very idea that she could give me such a dismissive demand—and even more so that she thinks I would listen. I slowly stand from my chair, the wooden legs scraping over the floor as I lean my palms on the table.
Our gazes lock in silent challenge.
“You're running away from your problems,” I say, my voice dark and deadly.
A warning.
To sit the hell down.
“I'm facing them,” she corrects, her eyes narrowing.
I scoff. “No. You’re facing your problems like a Spectre.”
By snuffing them out as brutally as she can—when, in reality, facing her problems would mean staying here. Facing her problems would mean healing things with Eric.
So, no. She's absolutely running away.
And—as much as it pains me to admit this to myself—I know in my heart that I can't actually stop her.
With a long, slow breath, I relax my shoulders and hang my head. I know this woman better than anyone else on the planet, and I know when my efforts will be wasted.
No matter what I say, no matter what I try to do, nothing at all could possibly keep her here a moment longer.
I'm disappointed, heartbroken even, that she's already trying to leave. I really thought I had more time with my sister, but I know her too well to live in that fantasy anymore.
“Try not to be an idiot,” I say through the knot forming in my throat.
“I can handle this, Rory,” she says calmly. “I won't give Zurie the chance to capture me, and if anything is compromised, I'll come back immediately.”
I lift my head, studying her face in surprise. “Really?”
Usually, she would find a safehouse and retreat for a little while to let the trouble die down or move on.
For her to come back shows growth—however small.
It’s progress.
“I promise,” she says with a nod. “I won't let Zurie use me against you, even if that means coming back here.” She hesitates briefly, looking at Jace. “No offense.”
He shrugs. “None taken.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding as I cross my arms. “Good luck, Irena.”
She smirks. “Won't need it.”
I sit on the carpet in the living room of my suite, my back against the door. My head rests against the wood as I listen to the silence.
And I wait.
I’m waiting for the inevitable patter of Irena’s footsteps as she leaves.
It's the middle of the night, and as the evening wears on, a beam of moonlight slices through the shadows of the dark living room. I rest my arm on one knee, my other leg stretched in front of me.
It's difficult—forcing myself not to intervene—but it's already been decided, and there's nothing I can do.
Around two in the morning, a door creaks open down the corridor, and I hear the soft thud of footsteps through the hall, heading toward the stairs.
I expect them to just keep going, but they don't.
They pause at my door.
I close my eyes and hold my breath. Silently, I wish for her footsteps to recede back to her bedroom, but I know my sister better than that.
She's debating saying goodbye. Out there, right now, she’s deliberating as to whether or not she should ask for one last hug before she leaves.
But she knows me too well.
She knows I'll try to make her stay.
Her footsteps steal down the stairwell, and after a few moments, they fade into the silence once again.
I let out the breath I was holding, and my shoulders fall as I relax against the door. A ball forms in my throat, and I swallow hard to clear it.
It doesn't work.
Irena and I have always stayed one step ahead of Zurie, and if Irena does this, she might come back with intel that can turn the tides in our favor. It’s ironic to think that intel from the very traitors that tried to kill us may, in fact, betray our mentor’s next move.
I shut my eyes, exhausted from the day—but mostly, I fight grief. I finally got my sister back, only to have to sit and listen as she leaves again.
But that's our way. It was always us against the world, back when we were Spectres. Our missions, our purposes, were always the same. Now, however, we lead different lives—lives that often don’t intersect at all.
I have my life, my men, and my reason for living. Now, she's driven to fulfill hers.
I can't stop her from doing that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The midday sun shines across the center courtyard, filtering in through the windows of the room Jace tried to lock me in when Mason Greene came to threaten me all those months ago.
He and I have sure come a long way since then.
I straighten his collar, mostly just fiddling with his shirt just because I like the way being near him ignites the deepest parts of me. He allows me to do it, grinning slightly and watching my every movement like this is somehow entertaining.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, looking up at him.
He grins and kisses me in answer, the brush of his lips on mine igniting fire and magic deep within me.
“Stop asking that,” he demands, his voice playful and light.
“Once you announce that you're stepping down from the dojo, there's no going back,” I point out even as he holds me tightly to his chest.
He studies my face for a moment as he holds me, his grip firm and strong on my back. “I know.”
I smirk, lost in his stormy gray eyes and drunk from his touch.
Gods, he's so damn hot.
Movement outside catches my attention, and I peek over his shoulder as the crowd forms beneath the balcony. The double doors onto the terrace sit open, letting in a cool breeze on the otherwise warm day, and the courtyard is practically full. Dragons line the walls, but most of the soldiers huddle in their human forms, standing below on the black tile as they wait.
Only Harper, my men, and I know what the announcement is about. I almost can't believe this is happening—that Jace and I really got to this point.
There's no turning back after he steps out there.
With one arm still around my shoulders, he lifts my chin with his other hand until our eyes meet. The air between us crackles with energy and desire as our unfulfilled mate-bond drives us ever closer. Our dragons are aching for us to do this already, to finish what we've resisted for so long, and there's not a doubt in my mind that this is the right thing to do.
After all, this is the choice he made. I'm not forcing him to do anything.
The door to the hallway opens, and Harper walks in as we hold each other.
“Ew, stop making out,” she says, grinning.
“Is it time?” Jace asks, ignoring her jibe.
The Fairfax Boss nods. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Jace squares his shoulders and winks at me. He kisses me once more tenderly on the forehead and smacks my ass hard before heading out onto the balcony.
There's a slight tingle in my rear from his touch as the skin goes briefly numb, but I laugh. Jace Goodwin plays rough, and I have to admit I really like it.
Harper stands next to me, watching as he exits onto the balcony. “I've never seen him this happy,” Harper admits, leaning toward me. “I'm proud of you both.”
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile.
Outside, the soldiers cheer as Jace walks onto the balcony. The dragons along the wall roar in welcome as their general and master takes center stage. He lifts his hand, and that simple gesture instantly settles them into silence.
“As many of you know,” he begins, his eyes scanning the crowd below him, “I've trained at this dojo since I was a boy. For as long as I can remember, I fought within these halls and wandered the tunnels below the embassy. I learned everything I know from the masters who have taught here before me. So, when I say serving in this dojo is all I ever wanted, know that this has been a lifelong dream come true.”
He pauses, puffing out his chest ever so slightly with pride. “Serving as your master and as the Fairfax General has been the honor of a lifetime, and one I do not take lightly. However, my dragon has made a choice for me. One I cannot refuse.”
Jace pauses, and I suspect this is carefully orchestrated silence. The only sound is the wind whistling by, and I imagine that everyone below is starting to figure out what this announcement is really about.
“As of today, I will be stepping down as the dojo master,” he says, arching his shoulders. “And I'll be taking my mate.”
I expect disappointed murmurs, or maybe even some heckling. Instead, the crowd cheers.
I lift my eyebrows in surprise, and I'm not entirely sure how to take this. After all, they deeply respect him. These are people who would die for him, and they're cheering that he’s stepping down.
“Is that a good thing?” I ask, pointing outside. “Shouldn’t they be, I don’t know, upset?”
Harper laughs. “They're happy for him, same as me. For a thunderbird, finding your mate is one of the highest honors. It doesn’t happen to everyone, and when it does, it’s to be celebrated. Most of them out there want mates, Rory. They're as proud of him as I am.”
Jace laughs while the soldiers cheer for him, beaming as he steals a look at me over his shoulder. I smile back at the goofball and gesture for him to finish his speech.
He returns his gaze toward the crowd, and as he speaks, the rising tide of their cheering drowns him out. He continues talking over them, but I only catch every few words.
“He's explaining what's going to happen next,” Harper says, probably reading the confusion on my face. “He's telling them that he's choosing a replacement, one that'll do his legacy proud. We've already chosen our candidate.”
“Russell?” I ask.
&n
bsp; Harper nods. “He's accepted the trials, and we begin tonight.”
I frown in confusion. “What trials?”
“It’s our selection process. The trials are intense,” Harper says as she cracks her knuckles, shaking out her hand to loosen the tension. “But that's the point. If he passes, the next time he walks among the other soldiers, it will be as their master. He will have to prove himself before he can be deemed their leader, though. It's going to be a difficult few days for him.”
“And if he doesn't pass?” I ask.
Harper lets out of frustrated sigh. “Then we'll have to do it all again. It happens more often than you think. I almost didn't pass mine.”
I lean slightly away from her, scanning her face skeptically. “There was a trial for you to become the Boss?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” she says casually, shrugging. “Why wouldn't there be?”
“I don't know,” I admitted. “I figured that it just sort of… happened. You know, like an ascension to power.”
Harper scoffs. “Not for Fairfax dragons. We're all about adrenaline and honor. We have to earn our place and continue to do so to maintain the respect of the people. There are no handouts with us.”
“What were your trials like?”
“Brutal,” she admits quietly. “When my father died, I only had two weeks to grieve and then prepare for the Great Trial. The ultimate one, so to speak—gruesome, difficult, and painful. That's how the Boss is selected. I had about forty competitors, and even Jace competed just to mess with me.”
I laugh. It's something Jace would do.
“It lasted for three weeks,” Harper continues, her gaze briefly slipping out of focus as she remembers. “The final battle of the Great Trial is a fight to the death amongst the two most competent challengers. It's the final proof of strength and pretty much a given in any Fairfax trial. I was up against my younger brother.”
My heart pangs, and I look at her in horror. “You had to kill your younger brother?”
“No, no,” she says, gently shaking her head. “Sorry, I always forget how brutal that sounds to outsiders. A ‘fight to the death’ for the Fairfax dragons can also be a fight to surrender, since in many ways it’s the death of others’ respect for you.”