Page 32 of Flames of Ruin

“CiCi,” he grunts out through ragged breaths.

Looking up, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. I can see the shadow of Drake’s figure with the streetlight beaming down behind him. His hair is a tousled mess and I notice his jacket has been torn off.

Scrambling to my feet, I step out of the car, taking notice of the street littered with dead bodies from the previous attack.

“Oh thank fuck!” I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands frantically try to find my face.

He clutches my face in his hands. I notice his pupils are dilated as his eyes rake over my body in a frenzy.

He continues looking me up and down, searching and muttering, “Please, tell me you’re okay.”

His body is trembling in my arms, and I recognize the fear in his eyes.

“Hey. Hey…Shhh.” I grab his hand and place it on my chest over my heart. “I’m right here baby. Feel my heartbeat, Drake. Breathe.”

One of his hands falls from my face and clutches my hand.

Underneath my own quivering palm, I can feel his heart thudding against his chest.

“Drake, look me in the eyes.” I whisper, trying to calm him.

He leans his forehead against mine, sharply exhaling, before his dark eyes meet my gaze.

“If anything would have happened to you-...” His voice is shaking as he struggles to finish his thought.

“Nothing happened to me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you.”

“You should. I’m not who you think I am. I’m the cause of your pain.”

Since the night I met Drake, I knew there was more to him. Even when I found out he was The Dragon, I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me. Now, standing in the middle of the street littered with dead bodies, I feel a sense of dread, as though my world is about to crumble beneath my feet.

“Talk to me, Drake. No more secrets,” I say, as I gently rub my free hand across his cheek.

The silence in the air between us feels heavy and thick as I wait for him to speak.

“For thirteen years, everything I’ve done is for you. Every criminal I’ve taken down, I told myself I was doing it in your name. I couldn’t save them that night, CiCi. I’m so sorry.”

“W-what do you mean?” I stammer, knowing the night he is recalling. The night Raventown fell and my parents died, along with so many other innocent lives.

He closes his eyes and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he is replaying the events. His face twists into this tortured expression before he looks at me and continues.

“My father. He initiated the attack on Raventown. Daniil and I were able to stop Enzo and Dimitri. We couldn’t stop Demassi and my father…so I killed him.” He pauses, grazing his rough thumb against my cheek, “Then I saw you on television, the broadcast. Your eyes. You were so lost.”

I remember seeing the replay of the broadcast days later. I was standing over my parents as they died.

We had eaten dinner at our favorite restaurant that evening, and within hours after dinner, walking through the city park like we had done hundreds of times before, both of them collapsed. I remember their agonizing groans as they clutched their stomachs, and then both of them began seizing uncontrollably. The deaths were not all immediate. Some were days later, but immensely painful nonetheless.

The toxicity report of all the victims read the same: high levels of arsenic, thallium, and a synthetic component of the botulinum toxin. That night, however, city officials immediately issued safety notices to boil our water, and to ensure safe preparation of foods while the incident was investigated. These safety measures remained in place for weeks.

The mayor at the time issued a statement within hours, stating that they were taking all measures to keep citizens safe. The investigation felt like it went on for years, but months later it was revealed that the water in Raventown had been compromised.

I found out that by keeping us safe; they meant they were filtering the water through an even more complex water system and taking extra measures to prevent water contamination.

A news report was broadcast sometime later stating there were three hundred and eighty-three casualties as a result of that night. Toxicology reports were run for months on people who died of the same symptoms. Anyone whose report read the same was grouped in with the Raventown attack.

No one was ever named or held responsible that night, but I knew in my heart this was not some random fluke; that someone had the information I needed about who carried out the attack.

That someone is the man standing right in front of me.

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