Chapter 22
Jericho
I arrive early for the briefing, a habit from decades of command. Better to assess the space and the people before engaging.
It’s larger than I expected. A conference table that seats twenty. Graphic displays on the walls showing Aurora’s operational range. Maps. Data screens. Professional setup.
People are already gathering. I recognize a few from intelligence files or brief encounters. Viktor. Kael Craven. Vanya, the former Shadowhand. The rest are unfamiliar—dragons I can identify by their energy, wolves by the way they move, a few whose species I can’t immediately place.
They watch me enter with varying degrees of suspicion or curiosity. Some hostile. Some merely assessing. All wondering if bringing me here was the right call.
I take a position near the tactical display. Not at the table—I haven’t earned that yet. Just close enough to present information when called.
Then Nadia walks in.
My hands clench in response to my dragon’s instinctive need to move to her. She’s in tactical gear—standard Aurora black, weapons holstered, hair pulled back, severe and controlled. Professional.
Our eyes meet across the room.
For half a second, I see her facade slip. Something vulnerable underneath. Something that looks like she wants to reach out. Wants to acknowledge what happened between us. Wants—
I look away.
Turn my attention to the display. Pull up files. Look at anything except her face.
Because if I hold that gaze, I’ll lose the composure I’ve been barely maintaining since she walked out of the training facility. If I let myself want what I saw in her eyes, I’ll break.
So I cut her off. Deliberate. Cold. The only way I can function.
When I glance back, she’s taken a seat on the far side of the table. Expression blank. Whatever I saw is gone.
Viktor stands, and the room settles. “Let’s begin. Before we start, introductions.” He gestures around the table. “Commander Allon, you know some faces. Others you don’t.”
A woman with dark hair and witch energy speaks first. “Elena. Caleb’s mate.” She nods toward the dragon beside her—younger, sharp-edged authority.
“Caleb Craven,” he says. Assessing me with dragon sight.
His twin across the table. “Dorian Craven.”
A blonde woman beside Dorian. “Juno.” I blink. The phoenix. I’ve heard the stories about her. Formidable. You’d never know it to see her; she’s almost delicate.
They continue around the table. Names and faces I commit to memory. Luke. Tabitha. Samien. Iris and Riven. Kieran—who watches me with particular hostility. Lila Ross with Talon. Hargen beside Vanya.
When they finish, Viktor turns to me. “You have the floor.”
I stand and move to the display. Call up the map I prepared.
“The facility is here.” I highlight coordinates. “One hundred sixty miles southwest of Aurora headquarters. Built into an abandoned timber plant. Vex chose the location for three reasons: remote, close enough to Aurora territory for access to research subjects, structurally sound for conversion.”
My dragon keeps pushing at my control. Nadia is fifteen feet away. I can smell her—wolf and woman and the faintest hint of our pairing. She must have stood in a hot shower for an hour, considering how coated we were in each other’s body fluids. I know I did.
Fuck, she felt so good.
I force focus. The hybrids matter more than whatever this is between us.
“The original infrastructure had five levels. Vex uses three. Ground level is processing and administration. Thirty to forty personnel rotating on two-week shifts.” I pull up schematics. “Level one is laboratories.”
I try not to think about how Nadia’s breathing has changed. Try not to notice the way her scent intensifies when I speak. Try not to remember how she sounded when—
Stop it, goddammit.
Caleb leans forward. “Defenses?”
“Perimeter security includes motion sensors, thermal imaging, patrol patterns. Two guards on surface rotation. Four more at subsurface checkpoints.” I highlight access points. “Entry is biometrically controlled. Retinal scan and DNA verification.”
“How do we breach?” Viktor asks.
“Two options. Fast assault—overwhelm security before lockdown. High casualty risk for both teams and prisoners. Or infiltration—someone gets inside first, disables security, then tactical assault follows.”
“Who infiltrates?” This from Tabitha.
“Someone with Syndicate credentials still active. Someone security won’t question.” I pause. “Me.”
The room erupts. Multiple voices objecting simultaneously.
Viktor raises a hand. Silence falls. “Explain.”
“My credentials aren’t revoked yet. Defection was six days ago. I arrive with proper authorization codes that are still active, security grants access pending verification. Twenty minutes before someone checks with command and realizes I’ve defected.”
“The Syndicate is hunting you,” Kieran says. Sharp. Hostile. “They want you dead. How are you going to walk into their facility?”
Valid question. Expected it.
“Research facilities operate semi-independently from main Syndicate operations. Security briefings focus on perimeter defense, not personnel tracking. This particular outpost wouldn’t be included in general alerts about defectors unless central command considers it high-priority enough to warrant facility-wide notification.
” I pull up an organizational structure.
“Vex reports directly to Ivory League leadership. His staff are insulated from standard Syndicate intelligence. They’re unlikely to know about my defection yet. ”
Vanya studies me. “You’re certain?”
“Reasonably. Leadership doesn’t like to broadcast its failures; they won’t have spread word of my defection. Yes, there’s risk. But infiltration gives us better odds than a frontal assault.”
“What about the… patients?” Nadia’s voice. It’s the first time she’s spoken.
I don’t look at her. Can’t. My dragon is already fighting too hard. If I meet her eyes now, I’ll lose what’s left of my control.
“Level two. Research wing. Twenty-three subjects as of six days ago, when I left.” I pull up files. “I retrieved the documentation I promised the Council. Full personnel rosters, facility schematics, security protocols. Everything is here.”
Names and faces fill the screen.
“Kaylin Foster. Twenty-two. Wolf-witch hybrid. Taken from the Oregon borderlands eight months ago. Forced transformation protocols. Developed complications. Might not survive another procedure.”
I continue through the list. Each person. Each horror. Making them real instead of statistics.
“Devon Cross. Nineteen. Dragon-wolf. Taken fourteen months ago. Genetic manipulation for combat enhancement. Permanent nerve damage.” I pause. “Notes indicate he asks for death regularly. Vex denies the request because the subject remains viable for testing.”
The room is silent. Heavy.
Kieran’s hands are clasped tightly on the table. He knows. Survived this.
I finish the list. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three reasons we can’t wait.
“Timeline is critical,” I conclude. “Vex rotates subjects through procedures on schedule. Two weeks before the next testing phase. After that, survival rates drop.”
Throughout the briefing, my dragon keeps surging. Every time Nadia shifts position. Every time she breathes. Every time her fragrance changes with emotion I can’t read because I won’t look at her.
My body remembers hers. Remembers exactly how she felt. Remembers the sounds she made. Remembers being buried inside her while she begged me to mark her permanently.
I lock it down. Focus on the mission. On the people who need saving. On anything except the pull that won’t quit, no matter how hard I fight it.
Viktor studies the data. “Confidence level in this intelligence?”
“Complete. I compiled these files personally. Current as of six days ago when I retrieved them from secure storage before defecting.”
“Security protocols? You can bypass them?”
“Yes.”
“Success probability assessment?”
“Infiltration approach—seventy percent mission success, ninety percent prisoner extraction, thirty percent Vex capture before escape.”
“Fast assault?”
“Fifty percent success, sixty percent extraction, ten percent Vex capture. Expect casualties.”
The numbers settle heavily.
Viktor looks around. “Questions?”
They come rapidly. Logistical details. Equipment needs. Contingencies. I answer each one with the discipline that’s kept me functional through combat, command, situations where hesitation meant death.
But underneath, I’m barely holding together. My dragon keeps demanding I look at her. My fire keeps rising. My body keeps responding to her proximity in ways I can’t control.
I’ve built my existence on control. On discipline. On the ability to suppress want in favor of necessity.
It’s failing.
The briefing runs for ninety minutes. By the end, we have a preliminary timeline: three days for reconnaissance and team preparation, then execution. Equipment lists. Team composition. Contingency protocols.
It’s solid planning. Professional work.
“Commander Allon.” Viktor stands. “Well done. We’ll finalize details tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The room begins clearing. People breaking into smaller groups.
I need to find Nadia. Need to talk to her about last night. About what it meant. About—
Viktor intercepts me. “A word.”
I follow him to the side of the room.
“Impressive work,” he says. Direct. “Your intelligence is thorough. Your assessment sound. The Council met this morning and voted to remove your probationary restrictions.”
I process that. “Meaning?”
“Standard quarters with the rest of the team. Full facility access. Free movement within Aurora territory. You’ve earned trust.”
It should feel like victory. Sanctuary secured. Freedom gained.
It feels empty.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Don’t make us regret it.”
“I won’t.”
He nods and turns away.
I scan the room. Nadia’s near the door. About to leave.
I cross the space quickly. “Nadia.”
She stops. Doesn’t turn immediately. When she does, her features are perfectly neutral. Whatever vulnerability I saw earlier is gone.
“We need to talk,” I say. Low enough that others won’t hear.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“About last night—”
“Not here.” She glances around. People nearby. Not private.
I gesture toward a side corridor. Empty offices branch off.
She hesitates. Then follows.
I lead her to an empty office. Close the door. The space is small. With both of us here, it’s tight. I can smell her stronger now—wolf and the lingering echo of arousal that makes my dragon claw at my ribs with desperate need.
She crosses her arms. Defensive. “What do you want to say?”
What do I say? That last night was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced? That my dragon won’t stop reaching for her? That I can’t think about anything except how she felt, how she sounded, how close we came to a permanent bond?
“Last night,” I start. “What happened—”
“Isn’t important.”
The words are cold. Final.
“Not important?” I hear the edge in my voice. “We—”
“Fucked. Yes. I’m aware.” Her tone is ice. Clinical. “My wolf was in heat. She took what she wanted. It’s over now.”
Over. Like it meant nothing. Like I didn’t nearly mark her. Like we didn’t both lose control completely.
“That’s all it was?” I need to hear her say it. Need to know if I’m alone in feeling this pull.
“Heat cycles are biological. Overwhelming. They make you need things you wouldn’t normally want.” She meets my eyes. Unflinching. “The cycle ended this morning. I don’t need you anymore.”
Her words slice through me. Sharp. Precise. Designed to wound.
My dragon rages. Fire rises beneath my skin, hot enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t manifest visibly. Every instinct screams to prove her wrong. To kiss her until she admits what we both felt. To make her see—
I stop. Lock my feelings behind discipline that I learned long before she was born.
“I understand,” I say. Voice gone flat. Cold. “Thank you for clarifying.”
Something flashes in her eyes. Gone instantly. Pain, maybe. Or regret. Or just fluorescent reflection.
I want it to be real. Want it to mean she’s lying. But she’s already turning toward the door.
“Nadia—”
She stops. Doesn’t look back. “We both needed something last night. We took it. Now it’s done. That’s all there is.” Then she’s opening the door and walking out. Straight-backed. Controlled. Professional composure.
I stand in the empty office and watch her go down the corridor. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t hesitate. Just walks away like the last few days never happened.
Like last night never happened.
Like I never happened.
My dragon is snarling. Furious. Demanding I follow. Demanding I fight. But I’ve been in enough battles to recognize when retreat is the only logical option.
She disappears around the corner. Gone.
The freedom Viktor promised feels meaningless. Standard quarters. Full access. Trust earned. None of it matters if I can’t reach her.
I lean against the doorframe. Try to process what just happened.
She said she doesn’t need me. Said it was just a heat cycle. Just biology. Just sex.
She’s lying. Has to be lying.
Except I saw her face. Heard her voice. Cold. Certain. Maybe she believes it. Maybe for her, that’s the truth.
Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong. The one who felt something she didn’t. The one whose dragon recognized our mate, while her wolf just wanted relief from biological necessity. Wanted to scratch an itch.
I close my eyes. Breathe through the chaos in my mind.
I came to Aurora for sanctuary. Got it. Came with intelligence that will save lives. Delivered it. Earned freedom. That should be enough.
It’s not.
Because somewhere in those days of survival and one night of desperate connection, I stopped wanting just sanctuary.
I wanted her.
Still want her.
Even knowing she doesn’t want me back.