Chapter 24
Jericho
The war room is clearly Viktor’s domain. Maps covering the walls, displays showing Aurora’s operational range, real-time data feeds from outposts around the world. Professional setup built for strategy and command.
Six people sit around the central table. Viktor at the head. Caleb and Dorian Craven to his right. Vanya across from them. Kael near the end. Tabitha Rourke—one of Viktor’s senior advisors—beside her.
I stand near the display, pulling up reconnaissance data from the team that returned this morning.
“The facility exists exactly where you said,” Viktor confirms. He’s reviewing images on his tablet. Aerial surveillance. Thermal signatures. “Infrastructure matches your schematics. Security patterns you described are accurate. Vehicle movements confirm approximately thirty-five personnel on site.”
“Any indication they suspect surveillance?” I ask.
“None. Standard perimeter sweeps, but nothing suggesting heightened alert.” Viktor looks up. “Your assessment was correct. They’re operating under the assumption of isolation.”
Caleb leans forward. “Vanya’s been analyzing your protocols. She confirms entry procedures match the current Syndicate standard.”
Vanya nods. “Your credentials should grant access. Assuming central command hasn’t flagged you yet.”
“Research facilities operate on delayed notification cycles,” I say. “Unless Vex specifically requests updates on personnel status, they won’t receive automatic alerts about defections.”
My dragon stirs beneath my skin. Agitated. Not because of the mission—because I caught Nadia’s scent in the corridor outside twenty minutes ago. Wolf and woman. Unmistakable to me. Because she’s mine.
Not yours. Dammit.
She’s not here. Hasn’t been anywhere near me since yesterday. But my body knows she’s in this building. Knows exactly where she is, even though I shouldn’t. A bond pulling like magnetic north.
My hands clench under the table. I force them flat against my thighs. Turn my attention back to Viktor.
“We’re proceeding on that assumption,” Viktor says. “Infiltration approach approved. You’ll enter with authorization codes. Disable primary security. We’ll have tactical teams positioned for immediate assault once you signal.”
I pull up the facility layout. Highlight key points. My chest aches. Physical pain that has nothing to do with injury and everything to do with her rejection. Dragon clawing at my ribs, demanding I find her. Demanding I prove she’s wrong.
I ignore it. Focus on the screen.
“Surface entry here. Biometric scan takes approximately eight seconds. Once inside, the security hub is in the east corridor. Two guards stationed. I’ll need to neutralize them quietly.”
The memory hits without warning. Her sweat. Her arousal. The way she smelled when I was inside her. My temperature spikes. I feel heat radiating from my skin before I can suppress it.
Caleb glances at me. Dragon recognizing dragon. Noticing the temperature shift.
I lock it down with effort that makes my jaw ache.
Focus. Twenty-three prisoners are depending on this going correctly. The mission matters more than whatever this is between us.
Except my dragon doesn’t care about prisoners or missions. Just keeps showing me images. Her lips on my skin. Her legs wrapped around me. The way she tilted her head, offering her throat for marking.
The way she walked away.
Tabitha is asking about extraction protocols. I respond with words that sound professional. Answer her questions automatically, even while my body screams for something I can’t have.
“Contingency if the biometric scan fails?” Viktor asks.
“Secondary entry through the ventilation system.” I pull up schematics. Show them. My hands are steady, but fire burns beneath my skin. “Here. The access point is less secure but requires climbing sixty feet of vertical shaft. Noisy. Guards would be alerted.”
“So primary entry is critical,” Dorian says.
“Yes.”
We continue through details. Timeline. Equipment. Communication protocols. Team composition.
Caleb acknowledges my contribution. “Your intelligence has been invaluable. We wouldn’t have this opportunity without your defection.”
The words should mean something. Trust earned. Sanctuary justified.
They feel empty.
Because all I can think about is her voice going cold. Her certainty that she doesn’t need me. The way my dragon hasn’t stopped raging since she said it.
My fire surges. I suppress it viciously. Can’t let them see how close I am to losing control. Can’t let them know that a mate bond separation is tearing me apart from the inside.
“Timing is critical,” Viktor says. “We execute this time tomorrow. Gives us time to finalize equipment and position teams. Questions?”
None. The planning is thorough.
“Good.” Viktor stands. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow for final—”
The door slams open.
A guard bursts in. Young. Shaken. “Commander. There’s been—” He stops. Looks around the room. “There’s been a death.”
Complete silence.
Viktor’s expression hardens. “Accident?”
“No, sir.” The guard’s voice wavers. “Murder.”
The word creates immediate tension. Murder. Here. Inside Aurora’s sanctuary.
“Where?” Viktor demands. “Who?”
“Maintenance corridor, level three. East wing.” The guard swallows. “It’s Samien Khalef, sir.”
Tabitha makes a wounded sound. Her hand goes to her mouth.
Samien. One of Viktor’s senior advisors. Someone these people knew. Trusted.
“When was he found?” Viktor asks.
“Twenty minutes ago. Security patrol discovered him.”
“Time of death?”
“Medical estimates between 0200 and 0400 hours this morning.”
Early morning. While everyone slept.
“Cause?” Kael’s voice carries weight that makes the guard flinch.
“Throat torn, my Lord. Significant struggle. He fought back.”
Tabitha’s breathing turns ragged. She grips the table edge. Vanya puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Secure the scene,” Viktor orders. “Get forensics—”
“Sir.” The guard’s voice drops. “There were signs of dragon activity at the scene.”
Everything stops.
Dragon activity.
“Explain,” Viktor says.
“Claw marks, sir. Deep gouges in the walls and floor. Pattern and size consistent with dragon form.” The guard looks uncomfortable. “Fire damage. Scorch marks on the concrete. And we found scales. Dragon scales near the body.”
Viktor turns to me. Assessing. “Where were you between 0200 and 0400 hours, Allon?”
“My quarters. Alone.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“No.”
The single word condemns me.
My dragon roars in protest inside my head. Not me. Didn’t do this. Frame. Trap. Someone setting me up. But I can’t say that without sounding desperate.
Tabitha stands abruptly. Her face is pale. Eyes red. “He’s Syndicate. We barely know him. We brought a war criminal inside our walls, and now Samien is dead.”
“Tabitha—” Vanya starts.
“No.” Tabitha’s voice breaks with grief and fury. “Dragon evidence everywhere. No alibi. The defector we’ve known for what—six days? And you’re going to pretend this is a coincidence?”
My dragon is fighting me for control. Demanding I shift. Demanding I prove innocence through force. Fire burns so hot beneath my skin, I’m surprised they can’t see it.
“I didn’t kill him,” I say. Voice rough. Strained. “I understand why you suspect me. But I didn’t do this.”
“Then who did?” Tabitha demands. “Who else—” She stops. Looks at me with pure hatred. “You killed him. Probably Syndicate orders. Probably never actually defected. This was all—”
“Enough.” Viktor’s voice stops her short. “We’ll investigate properly. Secure the suspect. Examine evidence. Then decide.” He looks at me. Studies my eyes—they’re silver, betraying dragon presence I can’t suppress. “Allon. You understand this is protocol.”
“I understand.”
What else can I say? My dragon is roaring innocence, but my body is betraying me. Eyes shifted. Heat radiating. Looking exactly like someone struggling to control his dragon form after committing violence.
Caleb shifts uncomfortably. “If the evidence confirms—”
“When we have conclusive findings,” Viktor corrects. “Not before.”
But I see it in their faces. The conclusion already drawn. Dragon evidence. No alibi. Defector they barely know. The obvious answer.
Guards enter. Two of them. Armed.
“Suppression cuffs,” Viktor orders. “Detention level three.”
Maximum security. Back where I started before earning trust that lasted exactly two days.
The guards approach. One produces heavy suppression cuffs. The kind that crush fire completely instead of just dampening it.
I offer my wrists. Don’t resist. Fighting would confirm their suspicions.
The cuffs lock. My dragon recoils as suppression intensifies. Not just dampening anymore—smothering.
The weight crushes down, oppressive and final.
“This way,” the lead guard says.
I turn to follow. Catch Vanya’s expression. She’s watching me with something that might be doubt. Not about my guilt; doubt about the obvious answer. She knows frames. Knows Syndicate tactics.
But she doesn’t speak.
No one defends me. No one questions the evidence. No one suggests alternatives.
I’m led from the room, down corridors I’ve started to learn. Past operatives who stop and stare. News travels fast. Everyone knows there’s been murder. And now I’m being detained.
Their faces show everything. Suspicion. Certainty. Disgust.
One thought surfaces through the turmoil: Will Nadia believe I didn’t do this?
My dragon is desperate. Needing her to know the truth. Needing her to believe me, even though she pushed me away. Even though she said she doesn’t need me.
Mate. Bond. Recognition that won’t die, no matter how much she denies it.
I stop the thoughts. Can’t afford hope. She made her choice. This isn’t her problem.
We reach detention level three. Same cell as before. 3-7. Small concrete box.
The guards remove my cuffs long enough to secure me to wall restraints. Then reattach the suppression cuffs before releasing the wall chains.
High-security protocol. Can’t shift. Can’t use fire. Movement limited.
“Someone will attend to your needs in due course,” the lead guard says. Almost apologetic.
I don’t respond. They leave. The door closes. Multiple locks engage.
Then: nothing.
I sink onto the concrete sleeping platform. My dragon is still raging. Furious at the false accusation. Furious at being caged. Furious that I can’t defend myself or prove innocence or reach the one person my dragon insists would believe me.
Two days ago, the Council granted sanctuary. Removed restrictions. Gave me trust. Now I’m back in maximum security, accused of murder with dragon evidence pointing directly at me.
Framed.
Obviously framed. Someone killed Samien Khalef and left dragon markers specifically to implicate me. Someone with access to Aurora’s facility and knowledge of dragon physiology.
But saying that sounds desperate. Sounds like every guilty person who claims they were set up.
So I sit in the darkness and process what just happened.
All that progress erased. All that trust gone. All those plans for the raid—useless now. They’ll execute the mission without me or postpone it entirely while they investigate.
And twenty-three victims will stay trapped in Vex’s facility, bleeding and broken, while Aurora determines my guilt.
My dragon keeps pushing to break free. Showing me images I don’t want. Her face. Her eyes. The vulnerability I saw for half a second in the briefing room before I looked away.
Before I cut her off because looking at her meant losing composure I couldn’t afford to lose.
Maybe she’ll believe I’m guilty. Maybe she’ll look at me with the same disgust Tabitha showed. Maybe she’ll be relieved she pushed me away before this happened.
Or maybe… she’ll know the truth. Maybe her wolf will recognize my innocence even when evidence says otherwise. Maybe she’ll—
I cut the thought off. Can’t afford hope that will destroy me when it proves false.
The cell is cold. The suppression field hums, constant and crushing.
I close my eyes. Lean my head back against the wall.
I came to Aurora for sanctuary. Got it briefly. Lost it violently.
I came with intelligence that would save lives. That still matters. They’ll use it eventually.
I came wanting redemption that will never come now.
And somewhere along the line, I started wanting something else entirely.
Her.
An indomitable she-wolf called Nadia Frost.