Age of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  “There's chatter on the closed Fairfax network,” she says, tapping her thumbs furiously across the phone screen.

  I roll my eyes. “Do I need to hit you with a rolled-up newspaper or something? Bad assassin. Bad,” I add, waggling my finger at her.

  She flashes an irritated glare at me, but she can't suppress the small grin that falls at the edge of her mouth. “Let me have my fun.”

  Seconds later, a ripple of static cuts through the speaker on the phone, followed by the soft chatter of men talking over each other.

  “Shut up, all of you,” Russell snaps.

  I lean subtly forward, surprised to hear his voice. Jace doesn't tell me much about the embassy or its inner workings, and I haven't yet been able to really figure out who does what around here.

  It would seem as though Russell has his hand in every pot, a fact that becomes all the more interesting now that I know he's currently the front-runner for Jace's second in command. He's clearly capable, and I'm curious to see how he handles being in charge.

  Pretty much anyone would be better than Guy Durand though.

  “Anderson, report,” Russell orders.

  “We’ve spotted a Knights onslaught in the East Forest,” a man answers. “Thirty soldiers. Possible reinforcements on the way. Anti-dragon tanks stationed along the perimeter, but we've had those in our sights for a while.”

  “Progress?” Russell asks.

  “Making headway through the forests along one of the clearer paths. Team Bravo strategically downed trees around the tanks yesterday, which will funnel through a clearing in about five minutes so we can intercept.”

  “Good. Send Squad One.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man answers.

  Seconds later, a tightly knit formation of twenty dragons soars overhead from the far end of the embassy, stealing through the air as they bank eastward. They maneuver like planes in tight configuration, silent and stealthy. If I hadn't been up here on the roof to see them, to know where to look, I may not have even known where they were.

  It makes me wonder how much I've missed in those moments where I'm sleeping or not constantly watching over the embassy grounds.

  It makes me wonder what else Jace is hiding from me.

  “Give me details,” Jace orders, his voice cutting through the connection.

  My heart impulsively skips a beat at the sound of his voice, at hearing the authoritative growl in his command. My dragon stirs and shivers, aching for him as he takes control of this military operation.

  “Surveillance shows Brett Clark leading the assault,” Russell answers through the connection. “It seems as though the Knights are trying to infiltrate, and chatter suggests they're coming for Rory.”

  Jace doesn't answer. Instead, a low and rumbling growl floats through the line, and his connection goes dead. Seconds later, a black thunderbird tears through the sky after Squad One, nothing but a shadowy blur of dark scales and blue magic through the night.

  Irena briefly looks at me, her eyebrows raised in skeptical curiosity. I shake my head to stop her from asking any questions or saying anything annoying.

  “Those poor bastards don't realize what they just got themselves into,” a woman says, her voice cutting through the phone’s speaker.

  “They most certainly do not,” Russell agrees, and I can practically hear the smile on his face.

  “Squad One approaching,” Anderson says. “Switching to live footage from the forest cams.”

  Through the speaker, the cold bite of wind blows across a microphone. It's quiet, almost to an eerie degree, without a hint of the creatures living in the forest to occupy the silence. I wait for the sound of the growl, for the leathery beat of wings hitting air.

  But there's nothing.

  Just the quiet.

  I wait with bated breath in the silence, itching for something to happen.

  There—the distant, stifled scream of a man caught off guard. Seconds later, more screams cut through the line, each of them cutting off before they can finish.

  In the distance, a few trees shake, but it's so subtle that I almost miss it.

  I don't, however, miss the gunfire.

  It's far enough away that to me, the gunfire sounds like nothing more than distant, muted pops. Through the connection on the phone, however, it’s blaring and thunderous. Irena flinches from the sudden noise, leaning away from the speaker as she turns down the volume.

  “Damn it, they're escaping,” a woman says. “Sir, what are your orders?”

  “Send Squad Two,” Russell demands, his tone both urgent and calmly in control. “Have them secure the Eastern Perimeter.”

  Moments later, a second squad of twenty dragons rushes off from the northern forests toward the east, heading in the same direction as the first. They fly low across the forest, each of them in tight formation as they follow one dragon that leads the way through the night.

  “I want to help,” I say quietly under my breath.

  I ache to be out there, to do something. Anything at all, as long as it means not just sitting and waiting to hear what will happen next.

  “They'll be done before we even get there,” Irena points out, her shoulders tight and tense.

  It looks like she wants to help, too—or, at least, she wants to get in a bit of trouble.

  “I know,” I admit, frustrated and restless as ever. A bright blast of blue magic tears through the air, scattering leaves into the wind. I stand impulsively, knowing full well who that is.

  Jace.

  “Goodwin found Brett Clark,” one of the soldiers says through the connection.

  “Send support,” Russell demands.

  “You know he won't accept it,” a woman counters.

  “I don't give a damn,” Russell snaps. “Send it anyway.”

  “Yes, sir,” she answers.

  An explosion rocks the distant forest, and a plume of smoke rises through the trees. My heart pangs with worry, and I wonder if this time maybe Jace bit off more than he could chew.

  All because he didn't want to accept my help. All because he thinks he can handle this better than me.

  All because he doesn't realize we can be a team and do the impossible—together.

  “Gods, he's a beast,” Anderson says through the line.

  “Focus,” Russell chides.

  “Yes, sir. It's just…” The man trails off as if he's debating whether or not he wants to finish a sentence.

  Russell groans impatiently. “Fine. What is it?”

  “I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a fight with Goodwin,” the soldier admits. “He's brutal.”

  “That's why he's the master of the dojo,” Russell says simply, as if Jace’s brutal skill is basic, common knowledge. “Now focus.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My shoulders relax somewhat, and even though I can't see the fight and judge it for myself, it's comforting to know Jace seems to be holding his own. If Brett really is as good as Tucker says, he won't be easy to take down.

  In the silence that follows, I pace along the roof, my eyes locked on the eastern forest as I wait for an update.

  “Brett’s squad is escaping, sir,” one of the soldiers pipes through the connection. “Well, what's left of them, anyway.”

  “How many remain?” Russell asks.

  “Seven.”

  “Get Squad Three out there to drop that number down to zero,” Russell orders. “Do a full sweep of the forest to make sure no one is playing dead.”

  “Yes, sir. Deploying Squad Three.”

  Almost instantly, a third group of dragons emerges from the mist that hangs in the ravine behind the embassy. They angle as they pass us, and I notice a familiar green dragon among them.

  Eric.

  The one who's been toying non-stop with Irena.

  He briefly looks at us, his eyes lingering on my sister. But he doesn't stop, and he doesn't flirt.

  He's on a mission.

  Squad Three fans out across the f
orests, the dragons flying low over the canopy in a single line over the trees. Before I even have a moment to guess their plan, they dive into the leaves.

  I have to admit, I'm deeply impressed. These dragons are good.

  “Dunn found one, sir,” one of the soldiers says through the connection.

  “That’s Eric,” Irena says with a proud little smirk—one I think she believes I can’t see in this darkness.

  “Bring him in,” Russell demands.

  Irena’s green dragon soars into the air with a man in his claws. Fast as lightning, the dragon tears through the sky as the man wriggles in his grip.

  As Eric flies closer, the strange man’s eyes land on me, and he freezes. He simply watches me even as the dragon dives back into the mists, and a cold shiver of dread snakes up my spine.

  “Damn it, Clarke got away,” Jace says into the line, seething.

  “We saw his route, sir,” Russell replies. “We can send—”

  “We can’t leave the embassy grounds,” Jace interrupts, clearly irritated. “You know the law, Russell.”

  “Not even if they invade our lands?” Russell replies, barely biting back his fury. “There are loopholes in the law, sir! If we chase them now, when they’re—”

  “Those loopholes aren’t strong enough to save us from public opinion,” Jace says more calmly this time, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “We have to be the bigger men and let them go.”

  There’s a tense moment of silence before Russell clears his throat. “Very well, sir. We did capture one of his troops. It would seem there's a lone wolf that was headed toward the castle on his own.”

  “Good. And the others?”

  “Only Clarke escaped,” Russell confirms.

  “I can live with that,” Jace says tensely. “Take the captive to Interrogation Room 3. I'm going to have a little chat with him.”

  There's an icy hatred in Jace’s tone, something dark and dangerous. It reminds me of the kind of growl you hear before a wolf attacks, the frantic rage-filled anger that can drive a man to murder.

  He's livid. Whatever happened out there in the forest really pissed him off.

  “Come on,” Irena says, switching off the phone and standing. “We need to find out what happens in that interrogation room.”

  “I know where to go,” I admit, standing and taking the lead.

  Irena hesitates, glancing me over briefly. “You've been in the interrogation rooms?”

  “Once or twice,” I admit with a wry smirk, intentionally leaving out the details just to mess with her. “Now, let's go.”

  In the tunnels beneath the embassy, with our backs pressed against the wall, Irena and I pause in the darkness to listen.

  We wait in the corridor beyond the primary door—the one Drew and I used to spy on Harper’s ultimatum to Jace. This stretch of hallway holds most of the interrogation rooms, and while it's not a surefire bet, I'm fairly certain Interrogation Room 3 is somewhere nearby.

  The meaty thud of knuckles hitting a face filters through one of the vents, along with a groan of pain. Irena looks at me, her green eyes bright in the darkness, and points to the vent she heard it come from.

  I nod. The subtle pull at my navel is also yanking me in that direction. Even though my connection to Jace is fuzzy at the moment, I know he's close.

  I kneel, peeking through the slots in the vent near the floor, but there's no visibility even as another punch lands. I can see shadows dance across the ground, but nothing more.

  My ear straining, I listen intently.

  Footsteps pace across the ground as the captive groans in pain once again. “You're not the first, you know,” a man says, his voice growly and deep.

  Jace.

  “I've intercepted twelve of these failed missions since the dragon vessel arrived,” Jace says, surprisingly formal despite the cutting grate in his tone. He must not want them to realize the depth of his connection to me, in case this one is released. “Every time you try to take her, you fail. Every time you come here, more of your people die. When will you Knights learn to give up?”

  “When the girl’s dead,” the captive says, gurgling slightly through what I figure must be blood in his mouth.

  There's a pause, and I can only imagine the look on Jace's face. Seconds later, another punch lands, this time harder and heavier than before. The chair creaks, and the guy hits the ground. He lands on the floor in front of the vent, the back of his head covered in sweat and dirt. A small puddle of blood forms beneath him.

  He, however, laughs.

  I grimace, briefly sharing a brief glance with Irena as I listen to the Knight laughing through his own blood.

  He sounds insane.

  “It's just a matter of time before we have her,” the captive says, still laughing. “The General is going to break her when he gets her. He will bleed her dry, refill her and bleed her again. Over and over. He will have his way with her, and then let the rest of us do the same. Anyone who wants a ride.”

  I grit my teeth in disgust at the vile thought, wishing I could be in there, wishing I could beat some sense into this man myself.

  Lucky for me, Jace has no qualms about doing it, too.

  He grabs the man's collar with one hand and brings his fist down on the man's nose with the other. Over and over again, Jace beats the man with a raging fury I haven't seen in him before. It's unfiltered and uncontrolled, fueled by wrath and loathing.

  When he finally pauses, the man is wheezing. It's like he can barely breathe through the blood in his broken nose, but it's hard to care.

  This is a man who came to kill me, who wants to not just kill me but break my spirit first.

  I don't have a lot of sympathy for people like that.

  “I'm going to give you a chance to be useful,” Jace says, his voice low and deadly. “And if you're useful, you might not die. Where's Brett Clarke?”

  “You played into my hands, you know,” the captive says, ignoring the question. He wheezes, the soft whistle of air through his broken nose a bit distracting each time he tries to talk. “Bringing me in here was exactly what I wanted you to do. I'm where I want to be. How long do you think you can hold me in this cell, Goodwin?” He laughs, the sound sputtering out into a coughing fit as he chokes on his blood. “I'll find her, drag her back to the General, and kill the traitor while I’m at it.”

  He snickers, and I figure the “traitor” he’s referring to is Tucker. If that's the case, that means the General has officially written off his son.

  It's hard to tell which of us the General hates more—me or Tucker.

  Probably me.

  “I'll bring back his head,” the soldier continues. “Bring back the girl. I’ll be a legend, Goodwin. A hero. So, go on, beat me senseless—you’ll only make the story I share when I get back all the more impressive.”

  I grimace in utter revulsion. What a freak.

  I expect to hear more punches. Instead, Jace kneels.

  Through the slits in the vent, I can see the stubble on his jaw as he gets close to the man's face, his voice a deadly growl. “I've stopped four dozen attempts to kill her, Knight. Four dozen. You're no hero. You’re just another one of the masses, a pawn the General will discard and forget. You see, you just made this so much easier for me.”

  “How so?” the soldier asks, the arrogance in his tone daring Jace to continue.

  “You're threatening my mate,” Jace replies, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he inches toward the man’s face. “And that's a death sentence. I don’t have to keep you alive anymore—I can just kill you.”

  “You wouldn't dare.” The man laughs again, wheezing. “You need me. You need my intel. You need my knowledge. You won't kill me until you learn it all.”

  “You haven't been especially useful,” Jace says, his tone sharp and warning. “So, right now, it doesn't seem like I need you at all.”

  “Of course, you do. I have everything—movements, locations, names. Besides, don't you dragon
s have ethics?” The captive wheezes again and spits blood across the floor. “I heard you don't kill prisoners. Or have I always been right about you lot—you’re just monsters, thirsty for blood any chance you get?”

  “Oh, I kill prisoners,” Jace says calmly. “I kill them when they threaten my woman.”

  He grabs the guy's throat with one hand and hoists him into the air with his enhanced dragon strength, effortlessly lifting both the Knight and the chair he's tied to.

  From my angle near the floor, I can't see anything but shadows along the concrete ground. I lean forward, trying to get more information, but all I hear is wheezing laughter.

  With a snap of bones, the laughter stops. A second later, his body thuds against the floor, the chair shattering to splinters from the force. He doesn't move, and the wheezing whistle of his breath finally stops.

  Heavy footsteps hit the ground, and I see Jace’s bare feet pass by. Seconds later, the door slams, and there’s silence once again in the room.

  I stare at the body on the ground, not quite sure what to say or what to think. I do, however, know exactly how I feel.

  Astonished.

  Jace stopped four dozen attacks on my life without telling me about any of them.

  “I never thought I would say this,” Irena admits quietly, squeezing her eyes shut as if she’s about to say something that pains her to admit. “You're lucky to have someone like that looking out for you. To have someone protect you like that.” She hesitates, her bright green eyes watching me. “To love you that fiercely.”

  Still dazed, I stare at the corpse on the floor and simply nod.

  Jace is strong and sexy as hell, and he will do anything to keep the people and things he loves safe. I just wish he could trust me enough to tell me these things.

  There's still so much he hides from me—and so much I don't know about Jace Goodwin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jace won’t tell me the truth—but there's one dragon in this embassy who knows exactly what's going on.

  It all clicked for me, downstairs in the tunnels.

  The truth.

  Drew has been keeping things from me, just like Jace.