Chapter 26
Jericho
Hours blend together in detention. The only markers are meals delivered and the change in shift of guards.
I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been here.
The suppression field has become an ever-present pressure that makes breathing difficult.
My dragon has retreated deep inside, where the cuffs can barely reach him.
He’s still there, coiled and waiting, but dormant under the weight of suppression magic.
The evidence against me is insubstantial. Gauges in the walls. Scorched tiles. Scales that could have come from any dragon in Aurora. No witnesses. No direct proof that I was in that corridor.
But circumstantial evidence has condemned people before.
I replay the facts obsessively. Samien Khalef found dead between 0200 and 0400 hours. I was in my quarters. Alone. No alibi. No way to prove I didn’t leave, didn’t kill him, didn’t commit the exact crime the physical evidence suggests.
Aurora should investigate properly. Should examine alternative explanations. Should consider that dragon evidence could be planted by someone with access and motive.
They won’t dig that deep.
Because I’m Syndicate. Because they barely know me. Because enough people here resent my presence that execution becomes the easier path than a thorough investigation that might exonerate me.
Maybe execution would be justice for my past, even if not for this specific crime.
Not for Samien’s death—I didn’t kill him. But for crimes in Syndicate service. For orders given that destroyed lives. For the decisions that prioritized mission success over the people who suffered because of it.
For Chance.
Nadia’s mate. The wolf I ordered killed because it suited the Syndicate.
I didn’t pull the trigger. Didn’t watch him die. Just gave the order and moved on to the next problem without looking back.
That’s how it worked. Clean decisions. No hesitation. No guilt allowed to interfere with duty.
Until her.
Until she made me see the real cost of orders I gave without thought. Until one night made me understand what mate bonds mean and what I destroyed in her. Until she walked away, and I realized some damage can never be repaired.
If Aurora executes me, perhaps that balances the scales slightly. At least I gave them the intelligence on Vex’s facility. Twenty-three prisoners still trapped there, who might survive if Aurora uses what I provided. That’s one small act of redemption against centuries of violence.
Not enough. But something.
The door opens.
Two guards enter. Armed. Professional. Not Viktor. Not Council members coming to deliver a verdict.
Just guards with neutral expressions and weapons at the ready.
“On your feet,” the lead guard says. There’s an edge to his voice that makes my teeth grind.
I stand. The cuffs make the movement awkward. My balance is off without dragon senses to compensate for the weight.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he releases me from the wall.
No answer. Just the guard gesturing toward the door with his weapon.
They flank me. One ahead, one behind. Standard prisoner transport protocol for dangerous detainees. We move into the corridor. Detention level three is mostly empty. A few occupied cells, but no one I recognize. No one watching our progression with interest or sympathy.
The guard ahead leads us toward the stairs. Not up toward meeting rooms or Council chambers. Down.
Lower levels. I don’t know what’s down there. More secure holding? Execution chambers? Interrogation rooms?
I prepare myself mentally. If this is execution, I’ll face it with whatever dignity I can maintain under suppression. If it’s a trial, I’ll defend myself as best I can. If it’s something else, I’ll adapt.
We reach the stairs and start descending. The guards remain silent. Professional. Giving me nothing to work with.
I could fight. My dragon is suppressed but not entirely gone. I could shift partially, break the cuffs through sheer force, overpower two guards, and run.
And go where? I’m inside Aurora’s mountain fortress. Countless operatives between me and freedom. Even if I escaped detention, I wouldn’t make it to the perimeter before they brought me down.
So I walk and try to accept what’s coming. Try to find some measure of peace with the reality that this might be how my life ends.
We reach level four. Turn into a main corridor. More people here—operatives moving between assignments. They ignore me completely. As if I don’t deserve acknowledgement.
I’m the Syndicate defector accused of murdering one of their own. Of course they hate me.
Twenty meters ahead, a side corridor intersects with the main route. Storage areas branch off from there. Maintenance access.
With every step, my tension ratchets up. The set of the guards’ shoulders threatens menace, as if they’re just waiting for an excuse to take me out.
What the fuck is happening?
Whatever it is, I’m destined not to find out.
The lead guard is five meters from the intersection when someone bursts from the side passage. Fast. Lethal. Unmistakable.
Nadia!
My dragon explodes against the suppression. The reaction is instantaneous and visceral. My breath stops entirely for half a second as flames flare beneath my skin.
She’s here. Real. Close.
She moves with speed I barely track.
The lead guard goes down hard. Some kind of strike to the throat that drops him gasping and stunned. The guard behind me starts to react, but she’s already there. She disarms him with brutal efficiency and uses his own momentum to slam him into the wall. He crumples.
Both guards are neutralized in under five seconds.
It all happens so fast, it’s all I can do to stand there blinking in surprise.
“What—?” I don’t get further.
She grabs my arm. Even through my shirt, the contact burns. “Move!”
I resist on instinct. “Nadia? What are you—?”
“Not now.” She’s scanning the corridor, checking if anyone saw the takedown. “Storage room. Now.”
She pulls me toward a small space lined with supplies. Closes the door behind us. Dims the lights to a faint glow.
We’re alone for the first time since I walked away from her rejection.
Her scent overwhelms me in the confined space. The mate bond I’ve been trying to ignore roars to life between us. A pull so strong that it takes active effort not to reach for her.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I keep my voice low and controlled, even though my dragon is roaring.
“Getting you out.” She’s working on my suppression cuffs with some kind of tool. Lock pick or electronic override.
“No.” I pull back from her touch, which is sending heat through my entire arm. “I need to face this.”
“Jericho—”
“They have no real evidence. They should investigate properly before reaching conclusions. I didn’t kill Samien, and a thorough investigation will—”
“You don’t understand.” She gets the first cuff off my left wrist. Partial suppression lifts immediately. The relief is staggering—like breaking the surface after drowning. “There’s new evidence now.”
“What evidence?”
“We don’t have time—”
“Tell me.” I need to know. Need to understand what I’m being accused of.
“Specific evidence. Damning evidence placing you at the scene.” She’s working on the second cuff with focused intensity. “They’re going to execute you.”
“Maybe that’s justice.” The admission comes out quiet but honest. “For what I’ve done. The orders I gave. The people who died because I prioritized missions over their lives—”
“For something you didn’t do?” She looks up. Fierce. Eyes blazing. “No. I’m not letting them kill you for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“You believe me?” The question comes out shocked despite my attempt at control.
“Yes.”
The certainty in that single word leaves me reeling.
The second cuff comes off.
My dragon explodes outward with enough power that I stagger. Not shifting—just freedom after days of crushing suppression. Fire roars through me. My senses sharpen immediately. Colors brighten. Sounds clarify. Her presence intensifies until it’s almost mind-numbing in its complexity.
And the mate bond hits with full force.
Mate. Mine. Need.
The instinct is so strong that I have to lock my muscles to keep from grabbing her.
She feels it too. I watch her reaction—the way her pupils dilate, the way her breathing changes, the way her body sways slightly toward mine before she catches herself.
“You’re sacrificing everything.” I stare at her. “Aurora is your home. Your family. If you do this—”
“I know what I’m doing.” She’s checking the door again, listening for pursuit. “Can you shift? Fight if we need to?”
My dragon is already testing boundaries, eager and free after days of suppression. “Yes.”
“Then we move. Now.”
Alarms sound. Loud. Immediate. Facility-wide alert echoing through corridors. Someone found the unconscious guards.
Nadia curses under her breath. Opens the door. Checks both directions.
“This way. Stay close.” She moves into the corridor. I follow, trusting her despite every logical argument against this plan.
We run through Aurora’s corridors. She knows the layout intimately—takes turns that avoid main passages, keeps us moving through maintenance areas and storage corridors that most operatives don’t use regularly.
Behind us, I can hear voices calling out. Running footsteps. The facility mobilizing to hunt us.
“There!” someone shouts from an intersection ahead.
Three operatives block our path. I recognize one—Luke from the briefing. Dragon energy radiates from him. He sees Nadia, and shock crosses his face.
“Nadia, don’t do this,” he says with genuine concern in his voice. “Step away from him.”
She doesn’t slow. Just accelerates toward them.
Luke moves to intercept. She half-shifts and takes him down with wolf power—not trying to cause serious injury, just incapacitate. He hits the ground hard, breath knocked out.
The other two engage immediately. One wolf, one I can’t identify by smell alone.
My dragon surges forward as I shift partially—strength increasing, senses sharpening even further.
I take the wolf. He’s fast, but I’m faster now without suppression holding me back. I catch his shoulder—a shallow strike meant to disable without causing permanent damage. He goes down cursing.
The third operative sees Nadia and me fighting in coordination and makes a decision to back off rather than engage alone. I hear him radioing frantically as we vanish around the corner.
We keep moving.
“Exit’s ahead,” Nadia says between breaths. “Vehicle bay. I have transport ready.”
More operatives appear ahead. A full tactical team responding to the facility-wide alert.
“Nadia Frost!” Someone I don’t recognize calls out with clear authority. “Stand down. That’s an order.”
She doesn’t slow.
They engage. Six of them forming a defensive line.
My dragon doesn’t hesitate. Fire erupts from my hands—not killing heat, just enough to push them back and create an opening. The flames drive them to the sides of the corridor.
Nadia moves through the gap with wolf-enhanced speed. I follow close behind her. We’re past them before they can reorganize their formation.
The vehicle bay is close now. I can smell fuel and oil, hear the echo of the large space ahead.
One more obstacle blocks our path. The bay entrance. Two guards with weapons raised and aimed.
“Last chance, Frost,” one says with grim determination. “Hand over the prisoner.”
She looks at me. Brief assessment. Then back to the guards.
“No.”
She closes the distance between them in two powerful bounds. Takes them both out before they can fire their weapons.
We’re through.
The vehicle bay is massive. Multiple transports are parked in organized rows. She’s heading for a heavy truck near the exit ramp.
Behind us, pursuit closes in. Maybe twenty operatives converging on our position, their footsteps echoing through the bay.
We reach the truck. She throws me the keys. “You drive. I’ll cover.”
I get in and start the engine. She climbs into the passenger side with a weapon ready, facing back toward the pursuit.
I floor the accelerator.
The truck powers forward up the exit ramp toward the outer gates. Automated security is trying to close the massive doors, but we’re moving too fast.
We burst through with metal screeching and alarms wailing protests.
Open road stretches ahead. Mountain terrain. The Aurora fortress falls behind us in the rearview mirror.
Pursuit will come. They’ll organize quickly. Track us. Hunt us with everything Aurora has.
But for now, we’re clear.
I drive hard, putting distance between Aurora and us. Focus on the winding mountain road and try not to think about the reality of what just happened.
After ten minutes, Nadia says, “Pull over. Side road ahead on the right.”
I see it—a narrow track leading into dense forest. Good cover from aerial surveillance.
I take the turn. Follow the rough track until we’re hidden by thick trees. Stop the engine.
Silence settles except for our breathing—both of us still panting hard from exertion and adrenaline.
Then reality crashes back.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Away from here.” She’s checking weapons. Counting ammunition. Already planning next steps. “I’ll figure out the rest.”
“You’re a fugitive now. A traitor to Aurora.”
“I know.”
“They’ll hunt you. Everyone you know will be ordered to bring you in or kill you.”
“I know.” She doesn’t look at me. Just keeps checking gear with grim focus.
“Why?” The question forces itself out. “Why believe me?”
She stops. Looks at me directly. Eyes are pale green again, but I can see the wolf still present, still close to the surface.
“Because you didn’t do it.”
“How can you possibly know that?” I’ve never been on the receiving end of such blind trust before.
“I don’t know how yet. I just know.”
“That’s not proof. That’s instinct.”
“It’s enough.”
The certainty in her voice is unshakeable. She sacrificed her home, her family, her safety, her entire future with Aurora—all based on the instinct that I’m innocent.
I made her into this. Fugitive. Exile. Traitor to the only family she’s had for five years.
She chose it anyway. And I’m humbled.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask quietly.
“I don’t know yet.” She finally looks at me fully in the dim light filtering through the trees. “But they’re going to kill you for something you didn’t do. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Even though it costs you everything.”
“Yes.”
We sit in the stolen truck hidden in the forest with Aurora organizing pursuit behind us. No clear plan. No allies we can trust. No safe haven to run toward.
Just the two of us.
Both changed forever.
We need to move again soon. Need to put more distance between ourselves and Aurora before they organize aerial pursuit.
But for this moment, we just sit in the silence and process what we’ve both done.
What we’ve both sacrificed.
What we’ve both chosen.