Fate of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  This is yet another reason he pisses me off—he doesn’t understand what I can do. He’s seen me in action, and yet he can’t fathom the idea that I took my first kill when I was twelve.

  I’m not a goddamn damsel.

  I cross my arms, furious. “You don’t share, but I do. You expect me to just adapt and live like you? You don’t even ask. You don’t care. I may be at war with the Ghost, but that doesn’t change how I was raised.”

  “Rory, look,” he says with a deep and frustrated sigh. “We want different things. I get it. And maybe with time we’ll figure this out, but for now I just need you to be careful. Okay?”

  It takes all I have to not shake him by the collar. What the hell does he think I’ve been doing? Taking candy from strange white vans? Inviting my enemies over for tea?

  “The bosses know you’re here.” He runs his hand through his hair. “All of them.”

  I frown, my fury temporarily dissolving with the shock of the news. “All of them? How did they find out? Was it Guy?”

  Jace grimaces at the traitors name. “No, I doubt it was Guy. I suspect the Vaer Boss had something to do with it after our attack on Mason’s stronghold.”

  Ah. A bit of petty revenge. I groan in frustration.

  He looks me over. “You’re safe here, for now, but I can’t say how much longer that will be the case. It’s an act of war to attack an embassy, but some people are willing to go to war over you.” He looks at me with a strange, almost ominous expression, and the deeper meaning is blatantly clear.

  The mate-bond is intense, even if we don’t entirely get along. If someone came for me, Jace would send his army after them—and probably rip out my attacker’s throat himself.

  “Jace,” I say quietly, trying to diffuse the tension. “You know almost nothing about me.”

  “And vice versa.” He crosses his arms and leans against a nearby tree, that intense gaze of his never waning. “But the mate-bond never lies.”

  “So you keep saying.” I rub my face, irritated with his riddles.

  “My dragon chose you, Rory.” He relaxes a bit, sighing as his expression softens. “Whatever happens between us, there’s no one else for me.”

  I scoff.

  Jesus. No pressure.

  I open my mouth to retort, but the rustle of leaves in the distance catches my attention. Someone is running toward us, breathing hard and heavy, and I snap my jaw closed. No one but Jace needs to hear what I was about to say, so I swallow the thought for now.

  “Look, let’s just—let’s drop it.” He groans and rubs his jaw, apparently oblivious to the scout running toward us. “There’s more urgent issues to worry about.”

  “Like the Bosses?”

  I have to admit, I’m grateful for the change of topic.

  He nods. “They’re planning a gathering and want to meet you.”

  “Want to size me up, you mean.”

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “You should still go.”

  I laugh. “Why the hell would I do that? Irena is still out there, and—”

  “Rory,” he says softly, disarming me with a deeply concerned expression. “This is your one chance to make a strong impression on them. You—”

  “Jace!” the guard shouts, a short way off now.

  I have to hand it to the soldier headed for us. He’s fast.

  Jace snaps his head toward the voice, his tender expression dissolving into the familiar mask he wears around the soldiers and students of the dojo.

  Around me, he can be soft and endearing—but around everyone else, he’s the playful bad boy I met in the courtyard when I first came to the embassy.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever figure this guy out. Not really.

  “Promise me you’ll go,” Jace says quietly, shifting his attention briefly toward me as the guard nears.

  I cross my arms, unconvinced. “I’ll think about it.”

  He briefly smiles in gratitude, and I wonder if he expected me to simply ignore him.

  Wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last, for that matter.

  “Jace!” the guard says again, gasping for air as he finally breaks into the clearing. “It’s urgent. We need you back at the dojo right away.”

  “Fine. Come on, you,” Jace says with a smirk and a nod to me. “You’ll probably eavesdrop anyway.”

  I chuckle and jog after them. Maybe I was wrong—perhaps he’s starting to understand me after all.

  Chapter Three

  When we enter Jace’s war room, I can tell something is desperately wrong.

  Four of Jace’s lieutenants stand at the far end of a long, slender table that fills most of the room. They’re silent and pale, arms crossed as they stare at the floor. The windows to our left let in sunlight, casting thin rays across a large pine box on the table. It’s maybe four feet wide and two feet tall.

  Red liquid leaks from the corner of the pale wooden timbers, and I can already guess at what’s inside.

  A flush of nausea burns the back of my throat, but I maintain my composure.

  Jace, however, does not.

  “Report,” he snaps, his voice tense as he walks toward his soldiers, briefly scanning the crate.

  I follow, but he gestures for me to remain by the door. I suppress an irritated groan and oblige him—mostly for his benefit, since I don’t really want to undermine him in front of his soldiers.

  Even if he is annoying as hell sometimes.

  “She—the box arrived this morning,” one of the soldiers says, his voice breaking.

  My annoyed smirk falters as the full weight of what he just said hits me.

  Oh, shit.

  A flare of adrenaline shoots through me, and my heart stutters briefly as I study the man’s face. He won’t look at anyone. All the color is gone from his skin, and he stares at the floor as if he can’t fully process what’s happening around him right now.

  “She?” Jace frowns, shoulders tensed, and turns his attention toward the box. He lifts the lid, and to distract myself from the horror of this entire situation, I study his face intently.

  His gaze sweeps over the contents, and he instantly grimaces. Dropping the lid, he rubs his eyes as if he can scrub the stain of what he just saw from his mind. He turns away from the box and leans his arms against the wall, staring out the window.

  “Fuck,” he says softly.

  The soldier who first spoke rubs his jaw. “She—when she didn’t come back from her rounds—I just didn’t—”

  “Rodgers, take the week off.” Jace says quietly. “The month, if you have to. Grieve. You are barred from missions until I clear you.” The dojo master turns toward his lieutenant, and though I can’t see Jace’s expression, it seems to shatter the last shred of the soldier’s resilience.

  Rodgers nods, barely holding back tears, and leaves without another word. As he brushes by me, I don’t entirely know what to do. I choose to give him space, to not stare at the tears slowly streaking down his cheeks.

  This man—he loved her. That much is easy to tell.

  In the past, death like this wouldn’t have touched me. We’ve received threats like this in Zurie’s house half a dozen times—heads and appendages of Spectres usually sent directly to Zurie. If the woman cared at all, she never showed a hint of emotion, nor did she allow me or Irena to do so.

  Any emotion, any remorse, was met with fierce punishment.

  But here—Jace—this is real leadership. Compassion. Rodgers clearly had a close connection with this dead shifter, and for all his asshole behavior, Jace can still show his people kindness.

  With Rodgers gone, Jace balls his hands into tight fists. “She was one of the best we had, damn it.” Slowly, the dojo master begins to pace up and down the room, his fingers brushing the stubble along his jaw as he loses himself in thought. With each passing second, his sorrow corrodes into fury.

  Finally, he looks at the remaining three soldiers with the full weight of his anger. His voice is low. Dangerous. Deadly. “Who
sent this?”

  “It came with this note.” One of the soldiers lifts a piece of paper, previously hidden by the box, off the table. “We don’t know who’s behind this, but it’s clear it was sent as a warning.”

  Jace snatches the note and scans it, and as he does, his eyes briefly flit toward me. He tries to hide the subtle movement, but he can’t.

  Not from me.

  Just like that, this all clicks into place. I look at the box, and based on its size and shape, I know in my heart what’s in there.

  A dragon’s head, and by the sound of it, it belonged to a damn good soldier. One of the female shifters Jace had in his rank, and clearly one he respected. A small part of me envies the female shifters he trusts to risk their lives, and I wonder why he doesn’t give me the same freedom.

  But this isn’t about me and him—this is about the jackass who dared kill one of Jace’s soldiers.

  Whoever did this was trying to send a message—to me.

  Those who protect you will die.

  I grit my teeth, my own fury slowly boiling within me as I grasp the reality of this situation.

  I can’t believe it. I can’t believe someone would be able to pull a stunt like this off—to send a dragon’s head in a crate as a warning takes immense effort and resources.

  And they didn’t even sign the card.

  The door behind me is thrown open so hard it slams against the wall. I pivot to find Drew in the doorway, his stoic frown burned into his face. His eyes dart over the room, from Jace to the box to the soldiers, and finally to me. Without another word, he shuts the door, joining us.

  “This is for officials only,” Jace snaps, folding the paper away and stowing it in his pocket. “Get the hell out.”

  Drew doesn’t even reply. He merely lifts one annoyed eyebrow and gives Jace a scathing expression that can only mean shut up and let me help you, idiot.

  “Damn it, Drew,” Jace grimaces, clearly thrown off his game after looking in the box. “I don’t have the energy for this right now. For you. Just get out.”

  “No.” Drew walks toward the crate, clearly about to look in, but I set a hand on his arm to stop him.

  It’s reflexive. Impulsive. I don’t even think about it, and a warm sensation pools within me as we touch. This dragon shifter lights a fire in me, and sometimes I hate the way he makes me burn with desire.

  As quickly as I reached for him, I let go—but it’s clear he felt it, too.

  The touch disarms him, too. He pauses, watching me, clearly caught off guard by the subtle and almost intimate gesture. And, to my surprise, he indulges me by remaining at my side.

  Jace notices all of this, and it just pisses him off more. He opens his mouth to tear Drew a new asshole, but I don’t have the patience for their feud.

  I want revenge, and I shove my emotions deep, deep down so that my mind is sharp and focused.

  “There’s no clue?” I ask the soldiers at the far end of the room. My voice is hard, emotionless. Ready for war. “Nothing at all? Where was it found?”

  “Along the southeast border.” One of the soldiers sighs. “They destroyed our devices monitoring that area. The only footage is of two masked men taking bats to the cameras.”

  I frown. “There has to be something else. Did they walk? Take a car? I need details.”

  Better yet, I need to see it for myself, but maybe I can have a peek later.

  The soldier shakes his head. “They walked from off-screen, but they didn’t have the crate with them in-frame. I suspect they had intel on where our cameras were, and that more soldiers drove up after the cameras were out.”

  I know who’s behind that.

  “Damn it, Durand.” I bite my lip, losing myself momentarily in thought as I debate who else could be behind this.

  I have quite a few enemies, after all.

  “This sounds like something the Knights would do.” Jace leans against the wall, staring at the box, his eyes shifting out of focus. “It’s brutal, classless, and garish. Right up their alley.”

  I shake my head. “It’s the Vaer.”

  Every man in the room tilts his head toward me, a question on each face at my utter certainty.

  “With all due respect, Miss Quinn,” one of the soldiers says. “How could you be so certain?”

  “There are so many people after you,” another soldier says, leaning his fists on the table as he studies me. “To be so certain it’s the Vaer…”

  I briefly glare at Jace, annoyed as hell that so many in this dojo seem to know intimate details about my life and the dangers I face. I wonder how many of his soldiers have read the file they have on me—the one Tucker and I discovered during our little adventure into the dojo’s command center.

  “The list is endless,” Jace says with a nod. “Rebel dragon clans from nearly every family. The Knights. There’s even talk of a faction within the Knights who want to overthrow their General for being too soft on dragons.” Jace frowns and shakes his head, and I suppress a shudder.

  Tucker’s father is anything but soft, and even with a lifetime in the Spectres to draw from, I can’t imagine someone crazier than him.

  “Don’t forget the Spectres,” one of the soldiers says.

  Drew, Jace, and I share a fleeting glance, but we don’t say anything. At least that’s one thing his soldiers don’t know about me.

  I know they must all be wondering if this is Zurie, but it’s not her style. It’s a common tactic among assassins, and she’s called it out before as nothing more than a tacky attempt at causing fear.

  It’s beneath her.

  Just her mere presence inspires terror. Obedience. Outright panic. She doesn’t need to cut off anyone’s head for that.

  “The Knights don’t have the physical power or skill to decapitate a dragon,” I point out. “Not without causing a scene. Whoever did this was swift and brutal. Another dragon.”

  Yet again, the men in the room stare at me, but they know I’m right.

  I mean, yes, I could do this, but even a Spectre with my skills would draw attention. An accomplished dragon shifter like this woman would have put up one hell of a fight, and that’s not something even Zurie could have done solo.

  I’m fairly certain she doesn’t want to let the other Spectres know their future Ghost is having a little rebellion at the moment. She wants to capture me, and she wants to do it as quietly as possible.

  Without a doubt, this is the Vaer. All the clues—and my intuition—point to them. And by coming after Jace’s people, the Vaer just made themselves fair game.

  Before, it was just Mason, just one asshole with a vendetta and a sadistic streak. Now, I might have the entire Vaer family after me. Their army. Their generals. They’re trying to get to me, to trip me up.

  And, damn it all, it worked.

  I frown, chewing my lip, unfamiliar with feeling so soft, so affectionate toward others. It’s always just been me, Irena, and Zurie.

  But now, I have a family, a group of men I’m becoming fiercely protective over, and everything I’ve ever known is changing.

  I lean against the wall, lost in thought as Drew and Jace dive into an argument about where to station additional security. For whatever reason, they can’t seem to agree on anything at all.

  After a while, I just tune them out.

  Zurie wants to take this beautiful magic from me, take my men, take this new freedom, take everything. The Knights want me dead. The dragon Bosses all want me for different reasons, none of them good. The Vaer want me most of all, and I’m beginning to suspect it’s for reasons not even Mason knew. Whatever they have in store for me, it’s probably a fate worse than death.

  With Irena down for the count, the only four people I can trust are in this dojo, and now people are hunting them as well.

  It’s almost too much.

  I’m not used to… feeling.

  But I can say one thing for sure.

  Whoever sent this box, I will personally rip out their spine f
or daring to threaten me and the men I’m quickly beginning to adore.

  Chapter Four

  I sit on my rooftop, on the tower with the best view of the embassy’s lands, and all I can wonder is where she died.

  This shifter—the one in the box. Where she was killed. Where she was found. Where the rest of her is.

  I shudder at the horrible idea that this woman was overtaken and killed just to send a message to me. In the scheme of things, she was innocent, and it burns my blood to think of how she must have died.

  I hope it was painless, at least. Swift. That the Vaer showed even an ounce of mercy.

  It’s unlikely.

  A dozen dragons sit along the wall below, each warily tilting their head toward me now and then. They think I don’t notice, but I do. They think I don’t see their eyes narrowed in suspicion and resentment, the way some of them snort black smoke in their barely-contained anger.

  They must blame me for their lost friend. For the danger I’ve brought to this dojo just by existing, just by being here.

  I can’t really blame them.

  I rub my eyes in frustration. I came up here to think, to be alone, not to be judged.

  Half-heartedly, I wonder if I should leave. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger, and I’m fine on my own. I don’t need a fortress to protect me.

  Tucker and Levi would come. Drew, too, probably. And Jace—I sigh. Who the hell knows what Jace would do.

  Lock me in a tower, probably.

  I’m running low on tech. I have barely any voids left in my bag. My special ammo is gone, but I can replace it with some generic bullets from Jace’s storeroom as long as they’re a high enough caliber. My override device will probably break in a few more uses, as I tend to shatter the fragile little things by the twentieth or so time.

  Sure, I have a bit more tech, but my supplies are running low. It doesn’t help that someone stole a few of my voids not long after I got here—I still don’t know who managed to pull that off.

  I frown. I should probably talk to Tucker about it, actually. If anyone had access and knowledge of them, it would be him.