Page 76 of Born in Fire

The room falls quiet. They all know who I mean. The whispers about the human girl crushed in Craven Towers have already circulated. The coffee shop server. The nobody. The girl who died saying she loved a monster.

Lydia shakes her head. “The Shard answers to Rossewyn blood. It will call to you, Elena. But Malakai’s spies will, too.” She glances between me, Caleb, and Elena. “This task will rest upon the three of you.”

I open my mouth to object—this is something I want to do alone—but Lydia raises a hand.

“It’s too important for your ego to take hold here, Dorian.” Her smile softens the rebuke.

I give a curt nod, though the argument is far from over.

“I’m not sure I know what to do with my power,” says Elena, which only confirms my conviction that she’s not right for the job.

“You will learn,” says Lydia. “We will show you. And let’s face it; it’s in your genes.” She walks to Elena and takes her hand. “Welcome to the clan, Rossewyn. Try not to burn it down.”

“Too late,” says my brother, looking smug.

I’m happy for him; I truly am. But right now, it’s hard to feel anything but rage over this whole fucking fiasco. This isn’t a time for celebration. It’s a time for war.

I’m already planning my exit, my hunt, when Caleb’s hand lands on my shoulder. I stiffen under his touch.

“We’ll talk after,” he says quietly.

“Nothing to talk about.”

His grip tightens. “Like hell. You’re not going off half-cocked on some suicide mission.”

I meet his eyes finally, letting him see the emptiness in mine. “I’m already dead, Caleb. The rest is just details.”

“Details that we have to deal with, brother. Your woman.” He lets that sink in, letting me know that he’s acknowledging what she meant to me. “She needs to be…” His voice trails off, and he looks at the floor.

Understanding dawns, and bile rises just as quickly. “Disposed of?”

“Attended to, Dorian. Unless you’d like to leave this to her family?”

“She had no one.” My voice cracks.

No one aside from a psychotic ex and a dragon who got her killed.

His expression softens. “The authorities will handle this as a suspicious death, Dorian. I don’t think you want to leave this to them. Besides, our people are going to have to cover this up somehow. They’ll probably try to play it out as an accident.”

I jerk my head, suppressing a shudder at the thought of Juno being used in some kind of whitewash campaign.

“I’ll handle it,” I grind out.

He heaves a sigh. “Dorian, if you—”

“I said I’ll handle it.” I shrug off his hand and walk out, the scarf around my neck burning like a brand. Whatever rage I felt has just been ramped up a thousand-fold.

The Syndicate, the Circle—they thought they were declaring war on a clan. But they’ve awakened something far worse.

A dragon with nothing left to lose.

Chapter 22

Dorian

The forest is too quiet. No owls. No fucking crickets. Just the creak of pines bending under the weight of this goddamn rain and the crunch of pine needles under my boots. I stare at the pyre, its cedar logs stacked too neatly, toodignified, like a shrine for someone who deserved better than a dragon’s send-off.

Juno lies on top, wrapped in linen the color of cream. The clan says it’s traditional. Bullshit.Shehated white—said it reminded her of sterile hospitals and stale coffee filters. She hated hospitals. Too much connection to the night she lost her parents. She’d have picked red. Blood-red, bold and unapologetic, just like her shitty latte art.

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