Page 78 of Born in Fire

“What the hell—?”

She kneels, sifting through Juno’s remains. My guts twist.

“Hey!” I stride forward, flames wreathed around my fists. “You don’ttouchher.”

The figure lifts her head.

Juno’s face. Juno’s smile.

But her voice is layered, ethereal, unnatural. “She’s not here, dragon.”

Her hand closes around a glowing ember in the ashes. It pulses like a heartbeat.

“But she will be.”

I stare at her for a moment before backing away. She’s not real. My mind’s playing tricks. Too much pressure. Too much pain.

I turn and walk off. As I reach the line of trees, I cast a look over my shoulder. She’s not there. Just as I suspected. Just an illusion my mind made up to fill the void.

Juno’s gone. And she’s never coming back.

Chapter 23

Dorian

I slam through the doors hard enough to crack the reinforced frame. The air around me shimmers with heat, my control hanging by threads frayed to breaking. Every face turns toward me—some wary, others sympathetic. All keeping their distance.

Good. I’m not fit for company.

“Nice of you to join us,” Caleb says from the head of the conference table, his voice carefully neutral. My brother looks exhausted but immaculate in his tailored suit, the picture of corporate leadership despite the crisis. Always the perfect fucking heir.

I don’t bother responding. My boots leave scuff marks on the polished floor as I stalk to the far end of the table, deliberately positioning myself away from everyone. Juno’s scarf is knotted around my neck; the fabric still carries her scent, but now it’s beginning to fade.

Three days since the attack. Three days since I watched the security footage of Juno disappearing under tons of concrete and steel. Of me digging her out and holding her as she died.

Three days of hell.

“We were discussing containment strategies,” Caleb continues, nodding toward the wall of screens displaying news coverage. Helicopter footage shows the devastated upper floors of Craven Towers, smoke still rising from the damage. Another screen displays a blurry image of what’s unmistakably a dragon in flight, circled in red with the caption: “MONSTER ATTACK OR ELABORATE HOAX?”

Social media metrics scroll across another display—trending hashtags, viral video counts, conspiracy theory forums exploding with activity.

“Containment?” I spit the word like poison. “Our enemies attacked our headquarters in full view of the world. They killed Juno. And you want to talk about fucking containment?”

Luke straightens in his chair, his dark blond hair perfectly styled despite the crisis. “Watch your tone, Dorian. We’re all upset, but protocol exists for a reason.”

“Protocol?” I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “Tell me, Luke, which ancient dragon protocol covers YouTube and Twitter? Which sacred text explains how to handle viral videos of our kind?”

“Enough.” Caleb’s voice cuts the tension. “Dorian, we all understand your pain. But right now, we’re facing exposure on a scale we’ve never encountered before. If we don’t address this immediately, hunting down those responsible becomes irrelevant—we’ll be too busy fighting for our survival as a species.”

I grip the back of a chair, the metal frame warping under my fingers. “Malakai’s Circle and the Syndicate are behind this. They orchestrated the attack, and they have to pay. Now.”

“We don’t know anything for certain,” Elena says, looking up from her notepad. Her precise handwriting covers pages of observations and theories. “The timing suggests coordination between the Syndicate and the Circle, but historically, they’ve been enemies. We need to investigate before jumping to conclusions.”

“Investigate?” My voice drops dangerously low. “While we sit here taking notes, they’re planning their next move. Juno is dead because of them.”

The room falls silent at my words. Elena’s expression softens, her hand unconsciously touching the silver locket at her throat. It was once her mother’s. Lila Ross, the woman who disappeared into the depths of Craven history. I can’t deny that she understands grief.

Lydia, elegant in emerald green, studies me silently.

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