Page 111 of Forged in Fire
The mate bond hums blissfully between us, a constant low-level awareness that still catches me off guard. When he shifts to reach for his coffee, I feel the movement before he makes it. When his amusement spikes at something Kieran says, warmth spreads through my chest.
It should be invasive. Instead, it’s like finding a piece of myself I had no idea was missing.
“What’s up?” Riven murmurs against my ear, voice rough with satisfaction.
“Just thinking.” I lean into his warmth, marveling at how natural this feels. “About how different everything is.”
Across the terrace, Kieran sits with Tabitha and Nadia, actually laughing at something the wolf shifter said. Color has returned to his cheeks over the past day, and the tremor in his hands has nearly disappeared. He’s still fragile, still carries shadows in his eyes, but he’s healing.
More than that—he’stryingto heal.
“The training program sounds interesting,” he’s saying to Tabitha, whose skin glows dark bronze in the afternoon light. “Physical conditioning, tactical instruction, magical enhancement. I could use all three.”
“It’s not easy,” she warns, but there’s approval in her startling blue eyes. “Viktor doesn’t believe in gentle introductions.”
“Good,” Kieran replies. “I’ve had enough gentle.”
Pride swells in my chest. This is the brother I remember—determined, stubborn, ready to fight for what matters. They tried to break that spirit, but it survived. He survived.
“He’s stronger than they gave him credit for,” Riven observes, following my gaze.
“Always was.” I watch Kieran gesture animatedly, explaining something about shadow manipulation to Nadia. “The Syndicate thought they could remake him into a weapon. They just made him more dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Because now he knows exactly what they’re capable of. What they’re planning.” I think about the intelligence he’s been sharing with Viktor, the detailed maps and personnel files he’s recreated from memory. “They gave him access to their entire operation. He’s going to help us tear it down.”
I feel Riven’s savage satisfaction. His protective instincts don’t just extend to me anymore—they’re expanding to encompass everyone on this terrace. Everyone who’s become family.
“Strange thought,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“I never thought I’d have people worth fighting for. Now I have too many to count.”
The admission does dangerous things to my heart. This man who spent decades alone, who was trained to avoid attachments, is slowly accepting that belonging doesn’t make him weak.
It makes him invincible.
“For the first time in years,” I tell him, “I know where I belong.”
His arm tightens around me, and I feel his answer before he speaks it. Here. With me. With these people who’ve become something more than allies.
Family.
“Iris!” Elena calls from across the terrace, raising her wineglass. “Tell Caleb he’s being ridiculous about the security protocols.”
I look over to where Caleb is explaining something to Viktor with his customary intensity, his hands moving in sharp gestures that suggest fortifications and defensive positions.
“What’s he planning now?” I ask.
“A safe house,” Elena says, rolling her eyes. “Completely off-grid, self-sufficient, enough firepower to hold off a small army. Because apparently our current arrangements aren’t secure enough.”
“They’re not,” Caleb protests. “We just took down a major Syndicate operation. They’re going to retaliate. We need better defensive positions.”
“We need to live our lives,” Elena counters. “Not hide in bunkers.”
“You can live your life in a well-defended bunker,” Caleb replies stubbornly.
