12. Arthur
ARTHUR
I knew the moment the metal screamed that the conversation was over.
I stepped in front of Artemis. She was already leaning forward, curious instead of afraid, which was both impressive and deeply inconvenient.
“Stay here,” I told her, glancing around for a place for her she could hide. “Right behind that shelving unit. Don't move.”
Her gaze tracked the door with open fascination. “I should be taking notes.”
“This is not a note-taking situation.”
She opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she could speak. “I will explain everything. I promise. And I will not hurt you. Ever.”
That sank in. I saw it when her shoulders sagged a fraction. She gave a deliberate nod, and her trust awed me.
The entire door tore inward.
I didn’t hesitate.
I pushed upward and outward at the same time, letting the change take me. Bones shifted and power rolled through me in a way that felt like coming home and going to war at once.
The storage room did not survive the transition as I lunged at the other dragon.
Metal peeled back. Concrete cracked. Part of the ceiling gave way as I surged through it, carrying the fight with me into open space. The night split wide above the buildings as I cleared the structure and rose, the attacker following close behind.
Cold night air rushed over my scales as I cleared the roof. The city spread below in fractured lines of light and shadow, buildings stacked tight, streets threading between them. I beat my wings hard, gaining altitude just long enough to clear the debris before angling outward.
That was when I saw them.
Not one.
Six of them.
They circled at staggered distances, keeping formation, testing me.
They were all smaller than me, which I knew would make them faster in short bursts.
Their scales, dark and matte, were made for concealment.
I didn’t recognize them, but I knew one thing.
This wasn’t a chance encounter. It was a coordinated strike.
They knew. Someone knew.
I roared in warning, but they didn’t heed it.
The first hit me from the flank, claws raking across my side, sending a burst of pain through me as my scales tore free.
I twisted, catching him with my tail, and sent him crashing through the wall of a building. The ground below fractured under the impact.
Two more dived from above.
I rose to meet them, wings pumping once, twice, taking one head-on. The collision shuddered through my frame. I forced him back with my sheer mass, jaws snapping inches from his throat, while turning my neck to loose fire at the other. Flame washed over his side. He spun away, scorched and smoking.
I tracked the ground even as I fought. Artemis. I kept my body positioned between her location and every angle of attack.
Another slammed into me from behind. We hit the ground together, tearing through fencing and asphalt. I forced him down, pinned him, and struck hard enough to leave him still.
Three left.
They spread out, trying to draw me upward again. I refused the bait. I drove forward instead, forcing them back toward the storage structures, keeping the fight close where I could control angles and distance.
One lunged low. I caught him mid-charge and drove him straight through the weakened roof of the original building.
We hit the ground hard as debris rained down around us.
The structure began to fail.
I surged up through the collapsing interior, fire burning hotter now, sharpened by clarity and rage. This was not about territory. This was not about dominance.
This was an execution attempt.
They wanted to erase whatever Percy knew. They wanted me gone—dead.
I would not allow either.
Two came at me together, coordinated, angling for my wings. I folded one partially, took the hit across my side, then turned and unleashed fire in a wide arc.
Flame filled the space, consuming dust and debris.
One fell hard and stayed down. The other veered away, wounded and retreating.
Movement below caught my attention. Too close to the section of the storage unit where Artemis should be.
No.
I pivoted, heart slamming, just in time to see another dragon drop low through the collapsing interior, jaws opening toward the wreckage where I’d told Artemis to stay.
No.
I dived.
I hit him hard, driving my shoulder into his chest, but the angle was wrong. His weight slammed into me, momentum carrying us down into the shattered concrete. Steel bent around us. Something snapped in my wing, and the jolt of pain stole my focus.
He pinned me, claws locking into my scales. His jaws snapped inches from my throat as he pressed down, forcing my head sideways into the debris. I tried to force fire out of my throat, but his crushing weight made that impossible.
This was bad. This was very bad.
I twisted, forcing space where there was none, but my injured wing dragged uselessly against the floor. He reared back, and I could feel fire building in his chest—the pressure, the heat gathering for a point-blank strike.
The storage room groaned, walls shuddering, shelves collapsing inward.
Artemis burst out from behind an overturned couch, eyes wide but steady, hauling a red fire extinguisher with both hands.
“No,” I tried to shout.
She leapt onto the couch, using it as leverage, and shoved the nozzle directly into the dragon’s open mouth.
She squeezed. “I’ve made several questionable choices today!”
White suppressant exploded inside his jaws.
The dragon reared back with a strangled sound as his fire was cut off instantly. His grip on me loosened as he choked and coughed. He stumbled sideways, disoriented and furious, claws scraping uselessly against the concrete.
Free, I surged up, and for half a heartbeat, I forgot the fight entirely.
Everything narrowed to her. She stood on top of the couch, cardigan flaring behind her in dramatic defiance, hair flying in every direction, framed perfectly by the streetlamp outside the shattered wall, its light crowning her head like something holy.
A Valkyrie. A warrior. A librarian with terrible judgment and impeccable timing.
She looked unstoppable.
She met my gaze, chest rising fast, extinguisher clutched like a weapon she fully intended to use again.
She was mine.
The thought landed whole and undeniable, even as the fight snapped back into focus.
I didn’t waste the opening she gave me.
I finished it fast.
One strike sent the choking dragon crashing into a support beam. A second sent him through the remaining wall and out into the night.
When the ground finally stopped shaking, I shifted back, pain rushing in all at once.
I barely noticed. My gaze locked on. She was staring at me with open wonder, dust streaking her clothes.
“You’re a dragon,” she blurted.
I swallowed hard.
“Yes,” I said.
And for some reason, instead of running, she smiled.