Age of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  Just him.

  He claws at me furiously as the magic builds—as I prepare to release the full brunt of my power into him.

  As I prepare to destroy him once and for all.

  Panicking, he bites my neck, his teeth digging deep into me, drawing blood and slicing nerves. Despite my training, despite all I’ve done to learn how to push through pain, I snarl in agony. Impulsively, I release my grip on him as I squirm, trying to throw him off. He soars through the air, downing several trees on the way, and hits the ground with an earthshaking crash.

  Guy recovers, teeth bared and bloody as he roars furiously at me.

  I snarl, not one to be outdone, and roar far louder in response.

  Far angrier.

  Far more thirsty for blood.

  We race toward each other again as an explosion hits the ground between us—a missile neither of us heard in all of our fury and rage.

  The force of the explosion throws me back. I sail through the air, crashing through trees that shatter beneath my dragon’s body. I roll across the ground and hit something hard, the back of my head smacking against what feels like a rock, or hell, a boulder.

  Something cracks from the force of my fall, and I'm not sure if that's the rock or my skull.

  I try to stand, but my world is fuzzy. It spins and teeters even as I get to my feet. I spread my wings, trying to balance, trying to recover as the white dragon stalks through the black smoke that lingers after the explosion. He snarls, his wings spreading, but I refuse to let him win.

  Unable to keep my balance, I collapse to the ground. My ears ring as I try to recover, but my vision only blurs more with each passing second. The world only spins faster. Darkness bleeds across the edges of my vision as I try and fail to stay conscious.

  I can't black out.

  Not now.

  Not with so much at stake.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I wake to the sound of clinking chains, my head pounding as I groggily try to come-to.

  Something pulls on my wrists, tight and searing, and I wince as I try to move my fingers. My nails scrape against metal, and my heart skips a beat as the memories come flooding back.

  The battle.

  Zurie.

  Guy.

  My eyes snap open, and I find myself on my back. I’m not in my dragon form anymore—a loose, white dress covers my body, the fabric stained with dirt and bloodstains.

  My blood.

  Someone drags me by the metal cuffs around my wrists, and I arch my back to find Guy Durand dragging me across the forest floor. His bare shoulders glisten with sweat and dirt, his body covered in deep gouges from my claws. He wears only a set of beige shorts, and his bare feet break the twigs along the ground as he steals me away from the battle.

  A boom rocks the earth, and I look toward my feet in an effort to get my bearings. Towers of black smoke spiral in the distance, and the flames of the battle recede behind us.

  Gods above—how long was I out?

  Another explosion rocks the woods around us, the trees trembling from the force. Leaves flutter, shaken from their branches by the boom, but Guy doesn’t flinch.

  I grimace, fighting the cuffs around my hands, tugging roughly on them as I try to stand. I don’t care if I have to strangle him with the chains attached to the cuffs—I’ll kill him, here and now.

  As the chains tense, he drops into a fighting stance and turns on his heels, glaring down at me. With a sharp kick to my side, he laughs bitterly.

  I groan as his foot nails my ribs, and I double over in pain.

  “Wakey, wakey,” he says, sneering as he tugs sharply on the restraints.

  “You are such an asshole,” I say through gritted teeth. I tense, recovering from the blow, and tug sharply on the cuffs.

  Just to be difficult.

  It throws him slightly off balance, and he yanks hard on the chains to drag me along the ground again. As my body scrapes across the dirt, the rocks and twigs poking me along the way, he pauses now and then to glare at me over his shoulder.

  “It didn’t have to be this way,” he says, disgusted. “I never wanted to work for the Vaer. The Darringtons, maybe. Or the Andusk.” He spits on the ground in revulsion and continues, dragging me to my doom. “But soon, it’ll all be done with. All of it. I hand you over, and voila. New title. New lands. New name.”

  “Is it like a witness protection program for douchebags?” I snap, tugging fiercely on the chains again out of spite.

  He stumbles and wraps the chains around his hand another time, likely to get a better grip.

  Idiot.

  One more tug, and he’s on his ass.

  I prepare myself, waiting for the right moment, when a powerful jolt of electricity tears through me.

  My jaw clenches shut from the current. My eyes are frozen, and I’m paralyzed as I blankly stare at the Fairfax traitor. Sneering with wicked delight, he presses his thumb hard against a little black remote I hadn’t seen before now.

  “Hurts, don’t it?” He says, snickering as he nods to the remote in his hand. “Maybe stop being such a little bitch and just behave.”

  He finally releases his hold on the button, and I gasp for breath as the current finally recedes.

  That was horrible.

  I’ve been buzzed by cuffs like these before, and while it hurt, it was nothing like that.

  As if reading my mind, Guy Durand waggles the remote at me, smirking like the asshole he is. “Oh, you bet your ass we made a custom set of cuffs, just for you, after that run-in you had with Ian.” He chuckles. “That dumbass didn’t know what he was messing with, Rory, but I do. I know exactly what you are, probably better than you. If you give me absolutely any reason to use this, I won’t hesitate for even a second—you hear me?”

  I wrinkle my nose in disgust, wishing I could just strangle the life out of him right now.

  What a dick.

  Apparently satisfied with being a complete and utter asshole, Guy starts walking again, tugging sharply on the chains. My arms ache as they stretch upward, pulled by the cuffs, and I grimace as my back is dragged once more along the earth.

  “We were tricked, you know,” he says.

  He never did know when to shut the hell up, but I don't mind. If I keep him talking, I can keep him busy.

  And he might even give me some useful answers.

  “It was Zurie,” he continues. “That bitch. Who's laughing now?” he says with a glance over his shoulder at me, chuckling slightly as he talks. “She and I were both after you, and I won.”

  What a moron.

  He doesn't win until we're out of these woods, and Zurie can track him for days even then.

  “This was supposed to be a silent infiltration,” he admits. “One no one would know about. Zurie said she could get us in, in exchange for you. That's all she wanted, she said. That's all she needed. I hand you over to her, and I get the dojo. I get revenge.”

  Another boom rocks the forest, I stretch out my fingers inside the iron domes of the cuffs, trying to re-center myself. If I can keep him talking, I can give my body time to recover.

  I need to keep him distracted because if I do, I might be able to find a way out of this.

  “But let me guess,” I say, egging him on. “That was never what you wanted.”

  “Of course not.” He scoffs. “You'd think Zurie would have learned from her first interaction with the Vaer that they don't exactly keep their promises.”

  An understatement, to say the least.

  “I figured it would be easy to kill her,” he admits, his voice trailing off as he realizes what a mistake that was. “I figured it would be us against her. I figured that if we had her outnumbered, we could win.” He shakes his head, disappointed with himself. “I should have seen it coming.”

  “You really should have,” I agree.

  “She just wants to watch everything burn,” he says, looking back at the smoldering wreckage of the dojo. “Pitting the Vaer against the Kni
ghts. Throwing her Spectres into the mix for good measure. She must really hate you,” he adds, looking down at me.

  “The feeling's mutual,” I say, my eyes narrowing.

  As he speaks, my head gradually begins to clear. My world still spins now and then, and the ringing in my ears won't go away. Slowly but and surely, I start to get my bearings.

  I reach into my core, searching for my dragon. She's there, but distant. It's like reaching for her through a fog, and my head keeps spinning the longer I try to connect with her.

  The more I reach inward, the more of my thoughts blur. I can taste metal, and I'm not sure why. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, but that only makes the dizziness worse.

  “None of it matters,” he says, returning his attention to the path in front of him. “All I have to do is get you back to Kinsley. I can't go back without you. Kinsley said so herself, and no one disobeys the Boss.”

  His shoulders stiffen, and I can practically smell the fear radiating off of him.

  A rock digs deep into my back as Guy drags me over it, shooting ripples of stinging pain through me. I grimace as I glare up at Guy. He snickers, and I swear he did that on purpose.

  I try to tune him out. I need to focus.

  I reach in once again, soothing my dragon. She's in agony, beaten and battered. Bloody and bruised.

  There's only one way she and I are going to get out of this.

  I reach into the depths of my body, into my core, searching for my magic. I find it instantly, though it feels weak.

  Like a dying pulse.

  But it’s there, and that’s all I need.

  I tap into it, and my hands sizzle with energy. I can feel sparks dancing between my fingertips. I can sense the magic burning in my veins, dormant and eager to break free.

  Weak ribbons of white light filter loosely over my arms, but it's all so distant. I can barely access it, much less control it. Truth be told, I'm not sure if that's the cuffs, the second concussion, or a combination of the two.

  A ripple of agonizing pain shoots through me as the cuffs electrocute me once again.

  Damn it. He noticed me trying to reach for my magic.

  I grit my teeth, my muscles tensing in agony as the current paralyzes every muscle. My heart stutters. My lungs stop. A surge of nausea rises in my throat, and I wonder how I could possibly stay conscious through this pain. Darkness bleeds along the edges of my vision as the electric current threatens to knock me out again.

  It stops, and I collapse, my body limp in the dirt as Guy continues to drag me through the forest.

  “Stop it,” he demands.

  He buzzes me again even though I haven't moved, and my back arches in pain. I can't stifle the groan of agony as the electric current burns me. I can barely see, and black spots morph across my vision as I stare up at the canopy.

  That's enough.

  I won't stand for this.

  I won't let him do this to me. Not for one second more.

  Seething with hatred, I glare at him. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I use the agony as fuel to push me forward.

  As he drags me along the ground, his thumb still pressed against the remote’s button, the electric current still burning through my veins, I roll onto my stomach and lift my foot, using a passing rock in the ground to help me stand. I stumble, thrown off balance by the pain and the movement, and instead fall to my knees.

  But at least I'm not on the ground anymore.

  The chains clink together, and he looks over his shoulder in surprise as I try to get to my feet. He lifts his thumb off the buzzer, almost impulsively, and I suck in a deep breath for what I know is going to be only a moment of relief.

  He presses his thumb against the remote, lifting his hand to show it to me, like he wants me to know he controls the source of all my pain. He shakes it a little, his thumb pressed hard against the button as the electric current burns through me, and my shoulders slump.

  I’m losing ground.

  The current—the pain—it’s just too much. I'm starting to lose control of my muscles as the electric current eats away at me.

  But the hatred makes me strong.

  The adrenaline keeps me going.

  I tap again into my magic, using it as fuel to push me forward even though it's distant. Even though it feels so lost within me. The longer I reach for it, the louder it becomes. Slowly at first, growing bit by bit.

  But it's there.

  It will always be there.

  I grit my teeth and struggle to get to my feet, wavering as the pain shakes me. I won't let him take me. I won't let Kinsley dissect me. She wants to do gods know what with me, and I won't allow it.

  I'm so broken. So battered.

  But I refuse to give up.

  I can't.

  Irena.

  Jace.

  Drew.

  Levi.

  Tucker.

  They all need me, and I need them.

  As I finally stand, my feet and knees shaking as I yell through the pain, Guy’s expression changes. He doesn't look disgusted anymore, or even annoyed.

  He looks frightened.

  As he should.

  He lifts his thumb off the buzzer, and I let out a slow breath as ribbons of relief weave through me. I figure it's temporary, but his gaze darts behind me.

  “She always was a stubborn girl,” a woman says, her voice dark and familiar.

  A chill shoots through me, and I straighten my back as I look over my shoulder to find Zurie standing in the center of the path behind us.

  Guy, thankfully, is distracted enough that he doesn't hit the button again, and that gives me a moment of respite. I manage to stay on my feet as splintering ripples of pain shock me in the aftermath of the electrocution.

  Zurie's eyes narrow, her gaze shifting between the two of us, her body tensing as she prepares for what she and I both know will be a true fight to the death.

  Unlike Fairfax duels, there will be no surrender tonight.

  The Ghost and leader of the Spectre organization, the most feared assassin guild in the world, draws her dagger.

  In my periphery, Guy draws a handgun.

  With my hands bound, I have no weapons as I face two of the people I hate most in this world.

  I can't say I've been in worse situations than this, but I do know one thing. This is not how I die, and it's time for these two to pay for what they've done.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  There's a suspended moment in the forest where the three of us simply watch each other, wondering what will happen first.

  Who will strike.

  Who will die.

  I eye the remote on Guy’s belt. He’s stowed it away to draw his weapon. One hand holds the chains, and his other holds his handgun, a high enough caliber to kill a dragon—but only at close range.

  In the moments before all hell breaks loose, with black smoke rising in the background and the billowing flames of a destroyed dojo lighting the sky, I take a brief assessment of my surroundings.

  The risks.

  The resources.

  Zurie is doing the same thing right now.

  Though I suspect Guy is trying to do something similar, I truly don't believe he realizes what he's up against.

  Time slows as I take it all in.

  Zurie wants us dead, both me and Guy.

  I want both her and Guy dead.

  Guy wants me alive, and he doesn't care about her. To him, she's as good as dead.

  There are only a limited number of shots in his handgun, and all three of us know he won't have time to reload it if he empties his clip. Every shot matters right now, and he won't fire unless he's panicking or sure he has a good shot.

  He also can't let go of the chains because I'll get away. He has to keep me close, and that keeps his hands full. At some point in this fight, he's going to have to choose— either me or Zurie.

  With me in cuffs and her armed, he's probably going to choose Zurie.

  I c
an use him to my advantage. He has no leverage in the situation against me, but I have quite a lot I can use against him.

  When I broke Ian’s remote what feels like eons ago, it shattered the cuffs and let me free. Guy said the cuffs on my hands were based on the same design. So, the smash-it-and-run technique will work here, too.

  Probably.

  As I take a slow breath, knowing that at any moment one of them will attack, I have mere seconds to formulate my plan.

  Step one, get the chains out of his hands because it's the closest thing I have right now to a weapon.

  Step two, get the remote from him.

  Step three, break it.

  Step four, kill them both.

  Sure. Easy.

  I snort derisively.

  The tension snaps in the air between us, and we all dive for each other.

  Guy lifts his gun and fires at Zurie. The Ghost dodges and rolls, the bullet whizzing by her head and missing her by a hair.

  With him distracted, I yank on the chains, pivoting and draping them over my shoulder so that I can use my body to throw him off balance.

  It works.

  He stumbles, the barrel of his gun pointing toward the ground, and Zurie goes for me.

  That was a stupid choice, and I wonder what she's playing at. I'm not the one with the damn gun.

  With her dagger drawn—the same one she used to stab Irena, its blade still covered in my sister’s blood—she swipes at my throat. I lean backward, my shoulders aching as the blade cuts through the air barely an inch above my nose.

  Thrown off balance and with very little in the way of leverage, I give into the momentum and fall to the ground. My shoulders take the brunt of the blow, my core tight as I absorb the shock of the fall.

  From this new vantage, I kick Zurie hard in the stomach with the edge of my foot. She doubles over, the blade coming down toward my thigh, and I swing my leg to avoid the blade.

  It all happens in seconds—barely enough time to breathe.

  Zurie stabs furiously at me, barely giving me a second to think, much less move out of the way. Every maneuver I make is an impulsive, purely instinct-driven reaction. At this point, I'm running on my training and muscle memory. The combination drives me and dictates every move I make.