Page 108 of Forged in Fire
Every head turns toward Ember. She sits straight in her chair, hands folded with deceptive calm. But her eyes hold determination that I know is not going to be swayed easily, because I was once just like her.
“Absolutely not,” Vanya says, maternal instincts flaring. “You’ve done enough. More than enough.”
“The visions didn’t stop when the ritual ended,” Ember continues, meeting her mother’s stare without flinching. “There’s something still active at that site. Something I might be able to sense that technology can’t detect.”
Hargen leans forward. “What kind of visions?”
“Residual magical energy. Power signatures that don’t match what we saw during the ritual.” Ember’s voice grows more confident as she explains. “The chamber may be sealed again, but the awakening attempt left… echoes. I’m the only one who saw the original vision sequence. I might be able to tell what changed.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Vanya protests.
“More dangerous than letting magical instability go unmonitored?” Ember challenges. “What if the Syndicate’s ritual damaged the containment? What if there are aftershocks building toward something worse?”
The question hangs over the small gathering. Viktor studies Ember, weighing options with the calculating intuition that’s kept the Aurora Collective intact for over a decade.
“She has a point,” he says finally. “Finding out what’s actually going on down there is going to be critical.”
“Then send someone else,” Vanya snaps. “Someone with more experience.”
“There is no one else,” Ember replies quietly. “These visions are specific to me, to my hybrid nature. You can’t delegate prophecy, Mom.”
The family tension crackles across the table. I recognize the dynamic—protective parent versus determined child, safety versus necessity. It’s the same calculation I’ve been making about Kieran since the moment I found him.
Sometimes love means letting go.
“I’ll watch out for her,” Luke offers. “Both of them. Mara’s tech expertise, Ember’s magical sensitivity, my tactical experience. It’s a solid team.”
“For a routine cleanup mission,” Hargen says slowly, clearly working through the logic.
“For a routine cleanup mission,” Luke confirms.
Vanya looks between her daughter and her mate, conflict written across her elegant features. Finally, she sighs. “Limited duration. Specific objectives. Heavy security protocols.”
“Absolutely,” Ember says quickly, before her mother can change her mind.
“And if you sense any immediate danger—magical, physical, or otherwise—you get out of there immediately,” Hargen adds.
“Of course.”
I catch Riven’s eye, see him observing the team dynamics with professional interest. A lifetime of hunting alone, and now he’s watching a group negotiate protection protocols like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The mate bond carries his fascination and something deeper—a hunger for belonging that he’s still learning to acknowledge.
And yet beneath it all, he’s still Riven. Still the most dangerous man in the room. And mine.
“Speaking of intelligence,” Viktor continues, turning his attention toward my brother. “Kieran, I understand you have information about Syndicate operations?”
Kieran straightens in his chair. The past twenty-four hours have put color back in his cheeks, but his hands still tremble slightly.
“They kept detailed records of everything,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Locations, experiments, personnel files. The position I attained in their ranks meant they trusted me with more access than they should have.”
“How detailed?” Viktor’s tone sharpens with professional interest.
“Facility blueprints. Security protocols. Project timelines.” Kieran meets my eyes across the table. “And lists of targets. Other bloodlines they’re tracking. Other families like ours.”
I pull in a breath. “How many?”
“At least thirty active cases. Maybe more.” His jaw tightens. “They’re not just capturing individuals anymore. They’re mapping entire family trees, identifying genetic markers, building profiles for large-scale operations.”
