74. Kiron
A few hours earlier
There had been an unease in my gut all afternoon. Intuition telling me something was fucking wrong. It was low and persistent, the kind that didn’t spike and fade but burrowed beneath my skin like barbed-wire.
We still didn’t know where the fucker Keith had slithered off to, and my brother and his girl were due back in town this evening.
My wings spread wide as I caught the breeze, coasting over the trees, trying to outrun the feeling clinging to me like rot. When that didn’t work, I finally swooped down, shifting mid-descent and landing in a crouch just as Harlow shifted beside me—white fur smoothing back into skin.
“Fuck, man,” he panted. “You trying to out-fly me, bro? What gives?” The irritation on his face didn’t quite hide the concern underneath.
I ran a hand over my beard, the wrongness tightening instead of easing. “I need to check on Jack.”
Harlow’s brow rose. “You think that’s a good idea?”
I ignored the judgment in his voice. I was perfectly capable of keeping my cool. Especially now that I’d officially bonded with Sina. The bond steadied me. Anchored me. Or at least it was supposed to.
I paced back and forth as I debated. “I guess I could ask Rafe, but he and Elias have been chasing leads for the last few days. I didn’t want to add more to his plate.
” I stopped and stared at my best friend.
“Jack’s supposed to be back tonight, Low, and Keith should have been taken care of by now, and I don’t—” I growled, exasperated.
“Something’s off. I can fucking feel it. ”
Harlow studied me, the humor draining from his expression. “You’ll be back for dinner? ”
“Yeah,” I said. “I won’t be long.”
The false promise settled wrong the moment it left my mouth.
“Fine,” he said after a beat, definitely not believing my lie. “But you call me if anything goes wrong, Ki. I mean it. Sina would never forgive me if I let you walk into a trap or some shit.”
I smirked. I knew he was only saying that because he cared and didn’t want to admit it out loud. “I swear. I’m not going in. Just going to watch from across the street.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“Last time my mate was inside being harassed by a dipshit,” I deadpanned.
Harlow chuckled. “Fair. For the record, I would have too.” He shrugged, seeming to think it over. “Alright. Go.”
I shifted again and launched into the sky, the island falling away beneath me as I angled toward my bike. I very well couldn’t fly into Ash Harbor and have a bunch of humans see a dragon, no matter how fast that would be.
And I already knew I wasn’t making it back for dinner.
I killed the engine a block from Jack’s and let the quiet settle. With my hood shielding my face from view, I rounded the street and stopped.
Jack’s Bar was dark.
That alone didn’t answer anything. Maybe Jackson hadn’t come back yet. But if I knew my workaholic brother—and I did—he would’ve returned with every intention of opening tonight. Which only meant one thing.
Something had prevented him from doing so.
Or. Someone .
I grit my teeth and tried the front door. Locked. I peered inside, scanning for anything out of place. Chairs stacked on tables. Pool sticks lined neatly along the far wall. Glassware clean. Everything looked untouched.
Still, I didn’t move right away. I inhaled deeply. The scent of iron filled my lungs.
Blood.
Fuck. I rounded the corner and jogged down the alley, boots quiet against the pavement, until I spotted the back door propped open by a bucket. That was wrong. Jackson never left it unsecured, not even for a smoke break. Not after he thought I’d died in the back alley.
I eased it open the rest of the way. Inside, the smell was stronger. I took another step inside, my gaze tracking automatically, following the story the room told whether I wanted to see it or not.
There was no sign of a struggle. No overturned chairs or broken glass. Just a faint smear of crimson along the wall near the doorframe and a darker streak trailing across the floor, like someone had been guided forward instead of dragged.
Compelled.
Fucking Keith.
I still hadn't had the displeasure of meeting him and I was salivating at the thought of tearing him limb from limb.
My jaw locked.
My gaze lifted to the small prep counter just inside the back entrance, and my stomach dropped.
A bottle of vodka sat dead center. The one he only drank at the bluff, when the weight of believing his brother was dead got too heavy to carry anywhere else.
My chest went tight. Keith hadn’t taken them anywhere random. He hadn’t hidden Jackson and hoped I’d search blind .
He’d sent me a fucking invitation.
I stepped closer, fingers curling slowly around the neck of the bottle. A faint smear of blood marked the glass—just enough to make the point.
He would kill them if he didn’t get what he wanted.
Sina.
The thought hit so hard it stole my breath. Fuck that. I would never let him touch her. Never let him use her the way he was using my brother. My dragon roared at the thought, fury slamming against my ribs, hot and violent and begging to be unleashed.
I hurled the bottle across the room. The glass shattered on impact, liquor spraying across the floor and walls, the sound echoing too loud in the too-quiet space.
Jackson didn’t deserve this.
Keith wanted me to be angry. Wanted me to be reckless. Wanted me burning so hot I didn’t stop to think about what he was really doing. Laying a trap.
Too fucking bad.
I stood there in the wreckage, fists clenched, chest heaving, and let the rage settle into something colder. Something sharper. He wanted to play with fire?
Fine. I’d play. Even if that meant we went down together. I'd do anything for those I love, including die. And that made me deadlier than him.
I slipped my phone free of my pocket and dialed Nik’s number. If I was going to do this I needed my hive to back me up.