Hunting the Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #8)

Chapter 1

Nadia

I’m going to kill him.

The thought should terrify me. I’m an Aurora Collective operative, trained to protect, not execute. But as I move through the forest with snow crunching beneath my boots and moonlight filtering through the canopy, all I feel is the cold clarity of purpose.

Thirty minutes ago, I walked out of a council meeting with Viktor Parlance’s voice still ringing in my ears. Thirty minutes since our leader announced that Jericho Allon—the man who ordered my mate’s death—was requesting sanctuary at Aurora.

The wind off the mountain bites hard enough to make my eyes water. I welcome the sting. It keeps me sharp. Focused. Angry.

My wolf prowls just beneath my skin, claws pricking at my fingertips, vision sharpening to silver. She’s been patient for five years. We both have. Silently hunting through the Syndicate’s network of shell companies and regional bases, following trails that always went cold.

And now they want to protect him.

I navigate a steep incline, using exposed roots for handholds. My breath fogs in the cold air. My muscles burn with exertion, but I push harder, needing the pain.

“Jericho Allon. Former Syndicate tactical commander. He claims to have intelligence on upcoming operations. He wants to defect.”

Viktor’s words loop through my mind, measured and infuriatingly calm. He’d stood at the head of the council table, tall, stoic, unyielding… and dismissing all my arguments.

I’d known the moment he said the name. Known from the way his gaze found mine across that crowded room. Known from the careful neutrality in his voice.

“No,” I’d said. The word had come out flat. Final. “Absolutely not.”

“Nadia—”

“Jericho Allon ordered the hit that killed my mate. Five years ago. August fifteenth. He sent the team. Gave the order. Stood there and watched my mate die and called it acceptable losses.”

The memory of that briefing room—the suffocating silence, the way people had stepped back when my eyes flashed with fire—burns through me now.

I’d held myself together. Kept my voice level.

Controlled. The way you’re supposed to when you’re Aurora, when you’re professional, when you’re anything other than a grieving wolf who wants to tear the world apart.

“He has critical intelligence,” Viktor had said carefully. “Information that could save lives. Prevent attacks.”

“I don’t care.”

“Nadia—”

“I said I don’t care.”

Then I’d walked out. No dramatic exit. No slamming doors. Just turned and left while the room erupted behind me, half arguing for sanctuary, half against. Their voices had faded as I walked down that corridor, my heartbeat louder than the sound of my boots.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. It buzzes again.

Fine.

I yank it out. Mara’s name flashes on the screen. I answer without speaking.

“You left a scorch mark on the floor, Frost.” Her voice is dry, laced with concern.

“Is that what you called to tell me?” I already know it isn’t.

She pulls in a breath. “Council voted yes. Sanctuary’s granted. He’s on the road already. Seventy-two-hour ETA.”

The confirmation sucks the air from me. I’d expected it, but hearing it makes it real.

“Fuck.”

“Would it be inappropriate to suggest a month-long spa day?” She’s tentatively teasing in typical Mara style. How did a social media specialist even get caught up in the shitshow that surrounds our world?

I don’t answer. Can’t. The rage building in my chest feels too big for words.

“You’re not gonna do something stupid, are you?”

“Stupid? Define stupid,” I grind out.

“You know… Anything that involves death. Destruction. Dismemberment?” She pauses when I don’t answer. “Nadia? You’re not thinking of anything along those lines, are you?” There’s another pause. “Nadia?”

I end the call.

The phone stays in my hand, screen dimming to black. My reflection stares back—pale green eyes that flash silver when the light catches them wrong, long black hair tangled by wind and movement, jaw locked tight.

Five years. Five years since I felt the bond snap.

I’d been standing in my mother’s kitchen when the call came.

She’d been cooking. Something with garlic and rosemary that made the small house smell like home.

I’d been laughing at one of her stories, relaxed and happy, when my phone buzzed.

One look at the caller ID and I’d known.

The way you always know when the worst has happened.

Mission compromised. Casualties sustained. Chance was among the dead.

The words had been gentle. Apologetic. Final.

I remember my mother’s arms around me as I fell.

I remember the scent of rosemary mixing with the salt of my tears.

I remember the bond snapping. That golden thread that had connected us since we were teenagers, since the moment we looked at each other with his easy smile and warm brown eyes, and I knew we were meant to be together forever.

Except forever ended on a Tuesday while my mother was cooking dinner, and I was laughing about nothing important.

Jericho Allon had run the team that took him down. Given the order. Stood somewhere safe while his operatives ambushed a mission that should have been routine.

And now Viktor wants to give him sanctuary. Protection. A second chance he never gave my Chance.

My pulse ticks hard against my collarbone. My wolf surges closer to the surface, wanting out, wanting to hunt, wanting blood.

Soon.

I shove the phone back in my pocket and keep moving.

The forest opens into a small clearing. I stop, crouch low, every sense honed. My wolf lends me her gifts even in human form—sharper hearing, keener smell, the ability to taste fear on the wind.

Nothing. Just the distant hoot of an owl and the whisper of snow falling from overburdened branches.

I’m about to move when I catch it. Footsteps. Two sets. Moving fast through the underbrush.

I melt into the shadows behind a thick pine. Then the scents hit me. Familiar. Unexpected.

Mara. And Kael.

Dammit.

They emerge into the clearing moments later. Mara’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed from exertion, emerald eyes sparkling. Kael moves beside her with that ancient grace that makes it look like he’s gliding rather than walking.

“Nadia.” Mara stops several yards away, hands visible. Non-threatening. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” I step out from behind the pine. “Go back to Aurora.”

“We can’t do that.” Kael’s voice carries the weight of centuries. “Not until we know you’re thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking very clearly.” My voice comes out hard. “Jericho Allon is traveling toward Aurora protection. I’m going to intercept him before he gets there. It’s simple.”

“It’s suicide.” Mara’s voice cracks. “Nadia, he’ll have armed escorts. Aurora operatives anticipating an attack. You’ll be outnumbered and outgunned.”

“I’ll be a wolf.” I meet her eyes. “And wolves don’t need guns.”

Silence falls between us. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

“We’re not here to stop you.” Kael’s words surprise me. “We’re here to make sure you understand what you’re choosing.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Do you?” He takes a step closer. Not threatening. Just… there. “Once you kill him, there’s no going back. You’ll have crossed a line that Aurora cannot ignore. They may grant him sanctuary; they will not overlook his murder.”

“Then I won’t come back.”

The words almost surprise me. True. Terrifying. Liberating.

Mara’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “You’d give up everything? Your place at Aurora? Your friends? What about your pack? How would they feel about this?”

“My pack didn’t avenge Chance’s death.” The bitterness in my voice shocks even me. “That’s why I came to Aurora in the first place. Because I needed to do something. Be part of something that fought back.”

“And now you’re walking away from that.” Kael’s observation isn’t a judgment. Just a statement of fact.

“Aurora isn’t fighting for Chance. They’re protecting his killer.” I look between them. “So yes. I’m walking away.”

Mara steps forward and pulls me into a fierce hug before I can stop her. I stiffen, then feel her whisper against my ear.

“Then come back when it’s done. We’ll be here.”

She pulls away, and I see the understanding in her eyes. She knows what it’s like to love someone that deeply. To be willing to do anything for them. Except her lover is standing right beside her. Alive. Whole.

Not like Chance, who’s little more than dust.

“Be careful,” she says quietly. “And Nadia? Don’t let this be the only thing that defines you. Don’t let grief be all that’s left.”

The words make me frown. Because she’s right. Years of grief have carved me hollow. Years of loving a ghost. Of defining myself by what I lost instead of what I still have.

But I can’t think about that now.

“I have to go.” My voice comes out rough. “He’s got a head start.”

Kael nods once. Steps aside. “Your mate would be proud of your loyalty. But he wouldn’t want you to die for it.”

The observation lodges in my chest. It’s true. Chance would hate this. Would tell me to let it go, to choose life over revenge, to honor his memory by living instead of dying.

But Chance isn’t here to tell me anything.

Dust. That’s all that’s left.

I turn away from them and start walking. They don’t follow.

After a dozen steps, I stop. Look down at my jacket. At the Aurora insignia stitched onto the left shoulder—a stylized phoenix rising from flame, rendered in silver thread that catches the moonlight.

I earned this. Wore it with pride. Believed in what it represented.

But not anymore.

I dig my nails into the stitching. The silver phoenix that I earned with blood and sweat. The symbol I thought meant something.

The fabric tears. The threads snap one by one. I hold the patch up. The phoenix catches the light one last time. Silver and beautiful… and meaningless.

Then I throw it as hard as I can. It spins away into the darkness, swallowed by shadow and snow.

Behind me, I hear Mara’s sharp intake of breath. But neither of them speaks. Neither tries to stop me.

I walk away. Past the perimeter wall’s edge. Past the last of the red beacons that mark Aurora’s safe zone.

Into the wild.

The forest swallows me whole. Trees tower overhead, their branches heavy with snow. The air smells clean and sharp—pine sap and frozen earth and the promise of violence.

My wolf stirs. Eager. Ready.

Seventy-two hours. That’s how long I have before he arrives under protection. Seventy-two hours to find him. To finish what should have been done all those years ago.

I move north, following instinct and training. The convoy would avoid main roads. Would stick to secondary routes with multiple escape options. Would prioritize speed over everything else because they know the Syndicate is hunting them.

They won’t know about me, though. Unless Kael and Mara warn them.

Somehow, I think they won’t. And Viktor probably thinks I don’t have it in me. He’d be wrong.

My senses sharpen with every step. Even in human form, I can taste the air, read the forest, track by more than sight alone.

Hours pass. The moon rises higher. The temperature drops until my breath comes in white clouds.

My wolf snarls inside me. A sound that rumbles up from my chest.

She’s done waiting. Done planning. Done with human caution and strategic thinking.

She’s waited too long while I investigated and tracked and built cases. Holding her back, telling her to wait, promising that justice would come.

Justice didn’t come.

So now she’ll make it herself.

The shift hits me before I can resist. My bones crack and reshape. My spine curves. My muscles tear and reform. Fur erupts across my skin in waves of silver and black.

I try to hold on. Try to maintain control. But she’s stronger tonight. Angrier. More desperate.

And maybe I don’t want to fight her anymore.

Maybe this is exactly what needs to happen.

The transformation completes in seconds. My clothes tear and fall away. Everything human drops away until there’s nothing left but wolf.

I lift my muzzle to the sky.

And I howl.

The sound echoes through the forest—rage and grief and promise all tangled together. A declaration. A warning.

I’m coming.

My wolf knows what I need. What we both need.

Not justice. Not closure.

Revenge.

And she’s finally free to take it.