Chapter 11
By the time Colt dropped Runa and me off at the mansion, she was half-asleep against my shoulder. The moment her head touched the pillow, exhaustion claimed her, the faint scent of blood and battle still clinging to her hair.
I stood by the bed for a long moment, just watching her breathe. Every rise and fall of her chest was a reassurance I hadn’t known I needed.
Then I forced myself to leave. There were too many questions, and too much blood spilled tonight to ignore the truth clawing at the back of my mind.
The safehouse sat at the edge of the docks a converted warehouse like most of ours, but quieter, fortified, layered with scent wards and iron locks that even demons couldn’t breach without burning for it.
When I stepped inside, my brothers were already there.
Lucien leaned over the central table, maps and digital feeds splayed before him, his expression sharp and calculating. Draugr was standing near the far wall, a shadow among shadows, while Viking paced near the door, arms crossed, every line of his body screaming restless violence.
Roman stood apart from them all, calm but unreadable, the weight of leadership sitting on him like a crown made of knives.
The moment I entered, Viking turned. “Heard you had some fun tonight,” he said, his grin all teeth, but his tone wasn’t mocking. It was assessing. “Seven Irish? You’re slipping, brother. Used to take you ten to break a sweat.”
I shot him a look. “They weren’t random. They were waiting for me.” That wiped the grin from his face.
Lucien straightened, hands braced on the table. “Explain.”
I moved to the centre, jaw tight. “We were leaving the southern warehouse when they hit us. Two lured us out with taunts, classic distraction. The rest came from behind. They knew where we were, and when we’d be there.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened. “No leaks from your men?”
“Colt checked,” I said. “No chatter on our lines. Whoever told them, it came from higher.”
A beat of silence fell. Draugr’s low voice broke it first. “Inside the family?”
Lucien’s eyes flicked up to his. “Inside the bloodline.” The word hung heavy in the air.
Viking cursed, slamming a fist against the doorframe. “You’re saying one of ours is feeding them?”
Roman’s gaze drifted toward the dark windows, voice calm but cold. “No. Not one of ours. One of his.”
It took me a heartbeat to realize who he meant.
“Caesar,” I hissed.
Roman nodded once, the motion sharp as a blade. “He’s the only one who could know where our operations run this deep. The timing fits. He shows up after years of silence, and suddenly the Irish and the demons move with precision again.”
Viking’s eyes went wild, his temper sparking hot and fast. “That pompous motherfucker was always a vulture. Living off Father’s scraps, scheming for power he never earned. If he’s working with Malakai…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The thought alone was poison.
Lucien stepped forward, his voice the steady anchor that always reined us in. “If Caesar’s aligned with Malakai, this war changes. The demons have a strategist now. They’ll know how we move, how we think.”
I exhaled hard, the anger burning through me like acid. “Then we take the board off the table. End him before he can play another move.”
Roman’s gaze lifted to mine, quiet but commanding. “We don’t move blind. We find proof first.”
“Proof?” I snapped, my restraint cracking. “He’s a snake, Roman. He’s been circling since Father’s funeral. You think it’s coincidence that the Irish are targeting the very warehouses he helped design?”
Roman didn’t flinch. “No. But we don’t start a war inside our bloodline without evidence.”
Viking growled under his breath, pacing like a caged beast. “I’ll find him. Drag him out by his throat if I have to.”
Draugr finally stepped away from the wall, his massive frame casting a shadow over the map. “He’s not alone,” he said quietly. “Caesar’s not stupid enough to walk back into our territory without protection. If he’s dealing with Malakai, he’s got demons on his leash.”
Lucien’s mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then we cut the leash.”
The room fell silent again, tension thick as smoke.
Roman finally straightened, his gaze sweeping over us all. “No one acts alone. We do this together, as a unit. Volken, I want you watching the south side. If Caesar reaches for the docks again, we trap him.”
I nodded once, but my mind was already elsewhere, on Runa. On what tonight’s attack meant.
If Caesar was feeding the Irish and demons’ information, then the ambush at the warehouse hadn’t been random. It had been a message.
A warning.
We know who you are. We know what you protect.
My jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Roman’s voice pulled me back. “You’ll keep Runa at the mansion, if she argues, you tie her down. No arguments.”
My head snapped up. “She’s my mate, not my hostage.”
“I know,” he said, steady. “But she’s your weakness now. And if Caesar knows that…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. The silence that followed said it all. Viking muttered a curse. “The bastard’s going to regret crawling out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in.”
Lucien’s voice dropped lower, colder. “If he touches one of ours, I’ll gut him myself.”
Draugr grunted his agreement. “I’ll hold him down for you.”
Roman’s gaze met mine again. “Keep her safe, Volken. Whatever it takes. We can’t afford another loss and your woman still doesn’t know the danger.”
I nodded, though the promise already burned in my blood. “He’ll never touch her. I will skin him myself if he tries.”
Roman inclined his head once, the meeting dismissed.
As I turned to leave, Viking called after me. “And Volken?”
I glanced back.
He grinned, sharp and reckless. “Try not to start another war tonight. You look like you’ve barely survived three days in bed.”
Lucien coughed to hide a laugh. Even Draugr’s mouth twitched. I flipped him off, though the smirk crept across my face anyway. “Go to hell.”
Viking’s grin widened. “Already did. You just got back.”
Their laughter followed me out, a brief crack of light in the darkness closing in. But by the time I reached my car, the humour was gone because I could still feel it, the faint echo of the bond thrumming in my chest, Runa’s heartbeat steady and alive miles away.
And beneath it, something colder, whispering through the bloodline like rot under the skin.
Caesar was moving. And when I found him he would learn exactly what kind of monster the Dragic name could still make.
I left the safehouse and stepped into the cold night air, the metallic tang of the docks still clinging to the wind. It should have cleared my head. It didn’t because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
Runa.
Standing in that damn warehouse, framed in the half-light and blood mist, too brave for her own good. The Irish bastard’s leering grin when he’d looked at her. The way she’d flinched when the first gunshot cracked through the air.
And the thought that if I’d been one second slower, if she’d been one step closer, she’d have been on that floor, bleeding.
The memory tore through me like barbed wire. I gripped the railing hard enough that the steel groaned under my hands. My fangs ached, the beast in me pacing just beneath the surface, hungry for another throat to rip open.
The blood we spilled tonight wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Those Irish were pawns. Disposable.
And the real monster, the one pulling their strings, was still out there.
Malakai. Or worse… Caesar.
The rage built, slow and hot, until I could almost hear the pulse of it in my veins.
Because the truth that I couldn’t tell her, the thing I buried every time I saw her smile, was that I hadn’t been in control that night. Not really.
When that first Irishman looked at her like she was something to claim, every civilized part of me had fractured. All that was left was instinct, possession and fury.
I’d torn through them not because they were a threat to the mission but because they had looked at my mate.
And I’d wanted to kill for it. No. I had killed for it.
I’d held back that side of me for years, kept it buried under discipline, under duty, under Roman’s code. But with her… the balance was slipping.
Every time I saw Runa, her smile, her clumsiness, the fire in her voice when she argued, I felt the bond pull tighter.
She was light, and laughter, and trouble.
And she had no idea how close she’d come to being snuffed out of existence tonight.
My fists clenched again, knuckles white.
If she’d been hurt, If even one bullet had found her, there wouldn’t be enough blood in this world to wash away what I’d do to the men responsible.
I’d bathed in blood before for vengeance. I’d bath again.
But I hadn’t let her see that rage. Not tonight. She didn’t need to know that the moment she screamed my name, something inside me snapped so violently that I barely remembered dragging her into that car.
I’d kissed her just to make sure she was real. To taste her breathing, because if I’d looked away, even for a second, I would have gone back and kept killing until there was no one left standing.
That was the truth of being mated to a Dragic. It wasn’t romance, or myth, but blood, and fire, and the constant, gnawing fear of losing the only person that mattered.
I exhaled hard, forcing myself to steady the storm raging in my chest. When I turned back toward the car, the night air felt colder, sharper.
Somewhere, out there in the dark, Malakai and Caesar were moving their pieces across the board, and they thought they could touch what was mine.
I smiled then, slow and humourless. Let them try.