Page 50 of Born in Fire

No definitive proof—nothing that couldn’t be dismissed as conspiracy nonsense—but the sheer volume of content and engagement is staggering. And dangerous.

My phone pings with a security alert from our system. Then another. And another. Malakai’s codes have been used to access the Heartstone chamber again. And shady characters have been hanging around our offices. Could be crackpots looking for photo opportunities. Or it could be Syndicate operatives looking for a way to turn this to their advantage.

Another alert pops up. An email from an anonymous source. I run an eye over it, scowling at the contents. Some fucker threatening more exposure. Threatening the Heartstone.

Goddammit!

As if we don’t have enough to contend with.

I grab my jacket and keys, rage building with each step toward the door. Juno’s frightened face momentarily flashes in my mind, but I push it aside. This is bigger than my wounded prideor whatever the hell was happening between us. This is about survival.

I make the trip to Craven Industries’ headquarters in record time. Caleb’s assistant, Sloane, barely glances up as I storm past her desk. She’s used to the Craven twins and our disregard for protocol. I throw open his office door without knocking, finding him staring out the window, tension evident in the rigid line of his shoulders.

“You need to see this,” I say, thrusting my phone toward him.

He turns, irritation flashing across his face. “What is it now?”

The moment he sees the screen, his expression hardens. I watch him absorb the implications, his jaw tightening as he scrolls through the videos.

“Jesus. For fuck’s sake,” he mutters.

“It’s gone viral,” I tell him. “Millions of views in the past few hours. #DragonConspiracy is trending worldwide.”

He watches the main video again, eyes narrowing at the clever editing—just enough to suggest without proving, to spark curiosity without providing definitive evidence.

“Elena must have told her,” he says, anger simmering beneath his controlled tone.

I nod, keeping my impatience in check. Why doesn’t he have her under control, dammit? There’s something off about him—beyond the obvious stress. A strange intensity in his eyes, an almost feverish quality to his movements.

“Our confidentiality protocols are shot. And that’s not all.” I swipe to another screen showing the security alerts. “We’ve picked up increased chatter about Craven Industries on various forums and social media platforms. People are digging, Caleb.”

He clenches his fists. “Is that all?”

“No.” I hesitate, knowing the next bit will push him over the edge. “There have been sightings of suspicious figures near thebuilding. Our surveillance caught them loitering around, but we haven’t been able to identify them yet.”

I show him the grainy surveillance images of men in dark clothing, faces carefully obscured, hovering near our entrances.

“And to make matters worse, Malakai’s access codes were used again, despite being revoked.”

Caleb slams my phone down on the desk with enough force to crack the screen protector. “That’s impossible.”

“Apparently not,” I reply, matching his intensity. “He’s bypassing our security somehow. We have a mole, or he’s got inside help.”

The situation is spiraling. Between the Syndicate’s moves, Malakai’s betrayal, and now this public exposure, we’re under siege from all sides. And my brother looks like he’s about to snap.

“This is getting out of hand,” I say, watching him carefully. “We need to control the narrative before it spirals.”

He nods, but his focus seems elsewhere. I notice a strange, almost glazed quality to his eyes, like he’s listening to something I can’t hear.

“Hey,” I snap my fingers. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” he says, though clearly he’s not. I’ve known Caleb my entire life—five minutes less than he’s known me, as he never fails to remind me. I can read his tells better than anyone. Something’s wrong. Something beyond the obvious crisis unfolding around us.

“There’s something else,” I say, watching his reaction closely. “We received a message. Anonymous, but it’s got the Syndicate’s fingerprints all over it.”

I pull up the email on my phone and hand it to him.

“‘Enjoying your newfound fame?’” he reads aloud. “‘It’d be a shame if more secrets came to light. The Heartstone isn’t safe, and neither is she. You can’t protect her forever.’”

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