Dark Dragon's Wolf

by Anastasia Wilde

  She couldn’t imagine how much money had been spent—and how many people had died—to make this place what it was.

  They took her into a small room. It was nicer than the last one—like a cheap motel was nicer than a crack den. She’d have to tell Tristan that their Netflix binging was paying off. She knew Earth things. Like crack dens and motels.

  Hers had a single bed with a thin bedspread, battered dresser, even a garish print on the wall for decoration.

  There was a door that led to a tiny bathroom, with full walls and a door. Whoopee—privacy to pee. And a large mirror over the dresser, which was almost certainly an observation window.

  “To what do I owe this luxury?” she asked Johnson.

  “I need you perfectly positioned,” he told her.

  “For what?”

  He smiled, and in that moment he didn’t look ordinary or boring at all. He looked like the evilest person she’d ever seen.

  “Because you’re bait,” he said. “I know you’ve been talking to someone on the outside, probably your brother. And when he can’t reach you anymore, he’ll come to get you.”

  He didn’t know about Tristan. That was good. “He won’t fall into the same trap you set for me.”

  Johnson just smiled that hideous smile.

  “No, he won’t. This one’s much, much bigger. He’ll bring your sister, and he’ll tear this place apart looking for you. And when my trap springs, I’ll have them both. The last Draken of the House of Al-Maddeiri will be in my hands.”

  He turned and left, the guards marching out after him. The door was solid metal and shut with a despairing clang.

  Mayah was left alone. The room was reinforced with magic; she could feel it all around her, suffocating her.

  She pounded on the wall, but it, too, was reinforced and didn’t even dent.

  This place was a worse trap than the one she’d fallen into. It might even trap all the dragons, not just Kira and Emon. And Tristan and anyone else with them would die, or be captured.

  She had to warn them.

  She lay on the bed and called out to Tristan in her mind, but there was nothing but silence.

  Chapter 29

  The team planned to head out at dusk. It was over an hour’s flight from Portland to Gen-X’s compound, and they had to make sure to get there after dark.

  Darkness would favor the shifters, who could all see in the dark better than the humans working for Gen-X.

  Even better, it would make sure they weren’t spotted by civilians. They couldn’t stay cloaked during the battle—Flynn’s team wouldn’t be able to see them, and neither would the wolves they were trying to evacuate.

  But no one wanted to try to explain to a news crew—or the Shifter Council—how ten dragons had managed to get caught on some random person’s cell phone video, burning an office building and research facility to the ground.

  “If the Council finds out, I’ll take the blame,” Emon said. “I’ll say it was all my people. They can’t do anything to me. I have my own interdimensional country.”

  Xander nudged Flynn. “We need to get us one of those,” he said. “Then we could do whatever we wanted.”

  “You already do whatever you want,” Flynn said.

  “Yeah, but if we had our own country you wouldn’t have to worry about me getting arrested.”

  Rebel and Blaze, Zane’s mate, were strapping on their body armor. They, along with Zane, Tyr, and Tyr’s mate Tempest, had shown up in matching t-shirts that read, You had me at “We’ll make it look like an accident.”

  Xander immediately insisted that Tempest conjure him one too.

  Flynn facepalmed. Tristan would have laughed, except that his head still felt like an overripe melon and his stomach was in knots. It had been almost eight hours since Mayah had gone silent, and both he and his wolf were just barely containing themselves.

  They had a staging point in the Coast Range, a wilderness cabin heavily warded by magical spells. It was only about a fifteen-minute flight from the complex, so they stopped there for a final check before heading in.

  They’d all memorized the plans drawn from Mayah’s intel—where the wolves were kept, where the main power and computers were, where Mayah’s cell was—but Rebel went through them again.

  “Mission brief,” she said. “Top priority, get the prisoners out. Flynn and his team are responsible for breaching the cells, and the dragons will lay down cover and then fly them out. Secondary priority—explosives team and dragons—destroy the facility as completely as possible without endangering the rescue.”

  Tristan put in, “I’m going for Mayah. I promised her I’d get her out, and I’m doing it myself.”

  “We’re backing you,” Flynn said. “As soon as we breach the cell walls.” Tristan nodded. Flynn had magical firepower and kamikaze instincts, and Tank could upend a one-ton pickup all by himself. Along with Sloan, Caitlyn and Xander, they should be fine even without dragon backup.

  Rebel went on, “Third priority, get the computers out before we trash the place. Blaze, Zane, Thorne and I have that mission. If we can’t do it, we’ll go with destruction.”

  Thorne picked up the briefing. “Dragons, keep yourselves cloaked as long as possible on the entry. Remember, you’ll have to uncloak so the prisoners can see you. Cloak yourselves again as soon as they’re onboard—it’s possible Gen-X can call in helicopter support. Any questions?”

  Silence.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Tristan took one more long look at the sketches of the compound, fixing the location of Mayah’s cell in his mind before going outside and climbing on Emon’s back, behind Trish.

  I’m coming for you, he said silently, even though she couldn’t hear.

  He had to save her. He had to save them all. Because if this mission went sideways—if he failed again—it would break him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

  And he wouldn’t be able to live without her.

  Emon jumped into the air and flexed his wings. The ground receded, and Tristan was surrounded by darkness.

  Mayah sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, head in her hands, desperately trying to reach first Tristan, and then her dragon, and then Tristan again.

  There was no answer from anyone. The drugs had mostly worn off, and she was hot and her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow, no matter how much water she drank from the discolored sink in the tiny bathroom.

  She wanted more than anything for Tristan to come riding in here on a dragon and whisk her away to live happily ever after.

  But not if it meant everyone she loved being captured or killed.

  She had to tell them not to come. She had to tell them it was a trap.

  She couldn’t even talk to the wolves anymore, to warn them. Not that there was anything they could do, unless they could reach Tristan somehow.

  But her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She’d never been completely alone inside her head before. There had always been Emon, and her dragon, and her ghosts.

  It felt so lonely.

  The surface of the mirror shimmered, and the glass became transparent. Johnson was on the other side.

  “I expect you’ve realized by now that you can’t contact anyone from the outside to warn them,” he said. “You’re totally at my mercy, and so are your brother and sister. In fact, I’m expecting them momentarily.”

  He smiled that evil smile. “You have one chance. Give me the keys to the wards guarding Emon’s territory, and I’ll let them live.”

  “No,” she said. “You’ll just come in there and kill them anyway, along with everyone else in the castle. I won’t betray them.”

  “You’ll wish you had,” Johnson said, “when you see what I’m willing to do to them to change your mind.”

  Mayah was glad her brain was too messed up for her to picture that in her imagination. It would make resisting harder—and she had to resist. She had to have faith in the others—that they would somehow avoid
this trap.

  “You won’t win,” she said. “If anything happens to Emon and Kira, Flynn and Trish will bring the entire shifter community down on you. If Flynn doesn’t kill you himself.”

  Johnson laughed. “Flynn is one lion shifter. He’s no match for us.”

  Mayah wouldn’t bet on that. At all.

  Johnson went on, “And the Council won’t move against us. How do you think we survived all these years?”

  They had a traitor in the Council. That penetrated even Mayah’s foggy brain. Well. He or she was going to be pissed as fuck when Mayah made it her personal mission to kill Johnson and eradicate Gen-X from the face of the earth.

  Because she was getting out of here. Somehow.

  Chapter 30

  Tristan had his mind wide open as he rode Emon’s dragon to Gen-X, straining to hear Mayah. But they came closer and closer to their destination, and he still heard nothing.

  She’s not dead, he told himself. She can’t be dead. She’s my mate. I’d know.

  Because in between everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, one thing had solidified in his mind and his heart. Mayah was his mate—his true mate, his one and only. He might not make it through this raid. His brain might liquefy at any time. But until that happened—until he was stone cold dead and maybe beyond—he was hers.

  He didn’t know why he’d ever pretended it could turn out differently.

  Suddenly, into his mind, came the voice of Mayah’s dragon. it said, sounding upset.

  He felt a huge presence settling over him, like a lead weight on his shoulders—and on his already damaged brain. He almost fell off Emon’s dragon. What the fuck are you doing?

 

  If you don’t kill me first. My brain is already like oatmeal. And it’s buzzing. What the hell is that?

 

  It took a second for that to penetrate Tristan’s fogged-up brain. The white wolves? I’m hearing all the white wolves?

  the dragon said forgivingly.

  All I hear is a dull roar. Is there any way you can turn up the ones near us? The one’s we’re going after today?

  There was silence from the dragon. Then,

  And they were.

  Here we are, White Wolf. We are waiting. We are ready.

  Tristan gripped Emon’s neck ridge so hard his knuckles went white. Mayah really had done more than pick up information from their minds. She’d told them to call out. She’d told them to be ready.

  She’d told them he was on his way. Their fucking savior.

  He tried to send a message back to the wolves. We’re coming. The dragons are coming. ETA, 5 minutes. Stay quiet. Don’t give anything away. He thought of Flynn’s explosives. And stay as far away from the outside walls as you can.

  He didn’t know if they heard him. He didn’t know if they understood.

  He felt blood drip from his nose, and his head was pounding.

  Just a little longer. He had to hang on. For the wolves. For Mayah. His mate.

  Inside the complex, the guards were gathered in the security monitoring room, staring at the screens.

  “What the fuck is going on?” one of them muttered.

  The test subjects—the wolf shifters—were all on their feet, moving to the front of their cells, pressing themselves against the Plexiglass. All staring straight out into the hallway.

  “Dunno,” someone else answered, his eyes not leaving the screens. “Full moon?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” the supervisor said. “They’re not werewolves.”

  “Full moons make even humans crazy. And they are too werewolves.”

  More and more test subjects were joining the first ones. Family groups were together, small children in the arms of their parents. They weren’t restless, or angry, or… anything.

  They were just there. All at the front of their cages. Staring.

  And then, very softly, one of them put his chin up and howled.

  It was an eerie sound, sending shivers down more than one spine.

  Then another person picked it up, and another, and another.

  The noise swelled as all the prisoners joined in, a plaintive, mournful song, going up and down the scale, rising in intensity. The wolves were calling.

  In her cell, deep in the central core of the complex, Mayah heard the wolves and raised her head.

  Johnson heard them too. “What are you doing?” he said sharply. “Are you setting them off?”

  “Not me,” she said.

  Gradually, as if the howling somehow was clearing her mind, she could hear the wolves’ thoughts. Faintly at first, but then louder. The dragons are coming. The Wolf is coming. We are here. We are ready. We will fight.

  Tristan was on his way. And he had gotten through to them.

  And if she could hear them, maybe they could hear her. Just as the thought came to her, the wolves stopped howling.

  Warn them! She screamed it as loud as she could in her mind. It’s a trap!

  There was one more beat of silence, and then she heard them calling out. Trap! Careful!

  And then Tristan’s voice, clear as anything.

  We don’t care about fucking traps.

  Mayah looked up to see Johnson staring at her. “What are you smiling at?” he demanded.

  Mayah let her smile grow predatory. “You’ll see.”

  Johnson hit the button on his headset, but it was too late.

  Chapter 31

  The dragons dove out of the sky, taking the complex by surprise.

  The ones carrying Flynn and his team landed on the roof of the prison section. The Bad Bloods jumped off the dragons and unfurled ropes and grappling hooks from their packs, rappelling to the ground on either side of the building.

  From inside the building, wolfsong burst forth, filled the night.

  Inside the complex’s central courtyard, Blaze and Rebel slid from Zane’s back to the ground. Shielded with magic, they headed for the main section of the building, with the power station and the server rooms.

  Guards swarmed out of the building, firing on the intruders.

  Thorne and Tyr landed, Changing to human and covering the ground troops with magical defenses. The three red dragons flew at the main part of the office complex, bathing it in dragonfire and knocking the walls down with blows of their barbed tails.

  Tristan and Trish slid down from Emon’s back. Emon Changed as well, landing in the courtyard.

  Tristan didn’t wait for anyone to back him. He ran for the side door, the nearest one to Mayah’s cell, and slapped a breaching charge on the outside. Behind him, he knew Flynn’s team was setting stronger charges along the reinforced cinder block wall, one for every cell.

  Tristan ducked back and blew the door, then drew his weapon and headed inside. All the rage he had bottled up inside him was burning him from the inside out, and adrenalin flooded him until he could barely feel his head pounding.

  All his focus was on finding Mayah.

  He opened his mind, calling for her, but he still heard nothing. Either she was unconscious or drugged. Not dead, he said again, like a prayer.

  Most of the guards were outside, fighting the intruders, and Tristan raced past the empty monitoring station towards the cell where Mayah had said she was being held.

  But why would they leave such a valuable prisoner unguarded?

  And then he knew.

  The cell door was open. There was no one in there.

  Tristan let out a howl of pure frustration.

  Mayah! he called frantically. Nothing.

  Only his wide-open senses—and his experience inside Mayah’s mind—allowed him to detect the cl
oaked dragon’s presence behind him, and duck. A dagger sliced into his combat vest, just missing slitting his throat.

  He slammed his elbow back, right where the fucker’s throat should be, and was rewarded with a strangled sound. The dragon appeared—a guy with reddish-brown hair and purple eyes who clearly thought he was smarter and stealthier than he really was.

  Tristan hooked his legs out from under him and landed with his knee on the asshole’s already bruised windpipe, his own glowing, magically enhanced knife at the dragon’s jugular. Thank you, Tyr.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where’s the dragon you captured yesterday?”

  The dragon sneered. “You can’t get to her, shifter. Not in time. Once they breach the central section—”

  And then they did. There was an explosion that rocked the building, and the power went dead. And then another explosion, this time of magic. Colored lights flashed in the air outside, reflecting through the slitted windows.

  And the dragon underneath Tristan seized up and stopped fighting him.

  What the fuck?

  Then it hit him. The trap Mayah had warned them about.

  It was a massive spell net.

  They’d disabled the dragons.

  Chapter 32

  From her cell, Mayah felt the explosions. She felt the spell net detonate. She heard the other dragons yelling, fighting, unable to break free.

  But Mayah didn’t have her dragon. The net didn’t affect her.

  And she could still hear the wolves—their song breaking up as their minds scattered in fear.

  Wolves.

  If she could hear the wolves, then she should be able to hear Tristan.

  But just then, her cell door opened. She whirled around to see Johnson with a long-handled stun weapon, advancing on her.

  Mayah almost laughed. This fucker knew nothing about the Al-Maddeiri dragons. She might not have her dragon, but it didn’t matter.