Chapter 2
Ember
The hum of the aircraft engines settles into my bones as I press my forehead against the cold window.
In spite of my nerves, I’ve managed to sleep on and off for the past few hours.
Now, below, the Atlantic stretches, endless and dark, moonlight skating across its surface like scattered silver coins. I can’t stop grinning.
My first real mission. Not a training exercise.
Not babysitting supply runs or filing reports in the archives like I thought I’d end up doing when I joined Aurora.
An actual field assignment with Luke Kenan and Mara Jones, who’s currently sprawled across two seats with her tablet balanced on her knees and her neon-pink headphones askew.
“Stop vibrating,” Mara says without looking up. “You’re making the cabin anxious.”
“I’m not vibrating.”
“You’re absolutely vibrating. I can feel your excitement from here. It’s like sitting next to a hummingbird that shotgunned three Red Bulls.”
I force myself to sit back, but my knee won’t stop bouncing.
“Sorry. It’s just… this is huge. I mean, I’ve spent most of my life reading textbooks and going through simulation drills. And now we’re flying to Romania to—”
“To clean up a mess,” Mara interrupts, finally glancing at me.
Her bright eyes sparkle with something between amusement and sympathy.
“Don’t get too starry-eyed, Nancy Drew. We’re basically paranormal janitors.
Think Men in Black meets The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.
Except instead of Will Smith, you get Captain Broody McScowl up there.
” She jerks her thumb toward the front of the cabin.
“But it’s important janitorial service.”
“True.” She grins and tugs her headphones down around her neck.
“Okay, crash course since His Frostiness won’t explain anything unless you submit a formal request in triplicate.
Your job is to sweep the Carpathian foothills for residual magical signatures—Syndicate and the Sleeping King, specifically.
After the skirmish in the caves, I’ve picked up chatter on the local news sites, so that will be where I focus my attention. ”
“What type of chatter?” I frown.
“Mainly ‘unexplained forest fires’ and ‘strange lights and noises.’” Mara shrugs.
“It hasn’t spread beyond that yet, but it’s only a matter of time before someone starts digging deeper and asks why there are dragon etchings in the rock formations.
If it comes to that, I’ll spin it as an extension of the film setup we used in Seattle.
Caleb’s given me carte blanche with the budget, so I can bring in some famous faces to give it more clout if I need to. ”
“You really think people will buy that?”
“People will buy anything if you say it convincingly, and then repeat it enough times.” She waves a hand as if it’s no big deal.
“You mean like propaganda?”
“I prefer to think of it as damage control. To defend the greater good.” Mara makes woo-woo hands because clearly she’s not good at letting conversations get too serious. “The survival of dragons relies on keeping their existence a secret.”
My stomach tightens with excitement. “We’re protecting the secret.”
“Exactly.” She nods. “So, back to the mission: I’ll coordinate with local assets—humans who know just enough to be useful but not enough to be dangerous.
When you’re not being a magical bloodhound, you’ll help me manage the digital footprint, make sure no drone footage or satellite images slip through the cracks. ”
“Got it,” I say firmly, before slanting a look in the direction of our traveling companion. “And what about um… him?”
“Commander Personality will handle any physical traces and liaise with the European Council’s cleanup teams.” She pauses, her expression turning sly. “Fair warning: Luke doesn’t do small talk. Or medium talk. Or really any talk that isn’t mission-critical.”
I glance toward the front of the cabin again.
Luke sits ramrod straight in practical workwear: black cargo pants, fitted long-sleeve shirt that does nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders, combat boots laced snugly.
His sandy-blond hair catches the dim overhead light as he leans forward, studying something on a secure tablet.
Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his chin.
A glacier in tactical gear.
Except glaciers don’t have that kind of coiled energy, don’t hold themselves like they’re one wrong word away from snapping. There’s something about him that feels less like ice and more like fire locked behind steel.
“You’ve worked with him before, right?” I ask Mara, keeping my voice low. “What’s he like in the field?”
Her grin turns wicked. “You mean, is he as much of a hardass as he seems?”
“I mean, does he ever… lighten up?”
“Not that I’ve seen. But I’ve watched him work in ways that would make your jaw hit the floor.
” She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Two weeks ago, during the Seattle cleanup, we had a situation. News helicopter got footage of scaled wings against the skyline. Could’ve been a disaster.
Luke didn’t just scrub the digital trail.
He tracked down the journo who’d been on the chopper, spent three hours talking to her.
I don’t know what he said, but she walked into her station the next morning and convinced her entire team the footage was a hoax. Deleted it herself.”
My breath catches. “How?”
“No idea. He won’t say. But whatever he did, it was surgical; no threats, no manipulation, just…
persuasion.” She taps her temple. “There’s more going on in that icy brain than he lets on.
Problem is, good luck getting him to show it.
I’ve been trying to crack that shell for the past few weeks. Zero progress.”
“Maybe he charmed her?” I offer.
Mara snorts. “Hah! You’re not serious, right?”
I study him again, curiosity sparking hot in my chest. What does it take to convince someone to bury a story that could make their career? What kind of control—or charisma—does that require?
As if sensing my gaze, Luke turns his head.
His chocolate-brown eyes lock onto mine, and something jolts through me; sharp, electric, completely involuntary.
For half a second, his expression shifts.
Something shifts in those eyes—surprise?
Recognition?—before his features smooth into professional neutrality.
I jerk my attention back to the window, heat flooding my face.
Smooth, Ember. Real subtle.
“Relax,” Mara murmurs, her grin widening. “He doesn’t bite. Probably. Though honestly, who knows? Maybe dragon dudes are into that.”
“Not helping.”
She laughs and returns to her tablet, leaving me to wrestle with my mortification and the lingering awareness prickling across my skin.
I pull out my own tablet—standard-issue, loaded with mission briefs and encrypted comms—and try to focus on the files Viktor sent earlier.
Satellite images of the Carpathian foothills.
Reports of “localized thermal anomalies.” Witness statements about strange roaring sounds.
Dragonfire leaves a signature that lingers. It’s not just heat; it’s intention, magic woven into flame. If you know what to look for, you can trace it weeks later. If there’s anything there that shouldn’t be, I’ll find it.
I can do this. I will do this.
An hour passes. The cabin lights dim as most of the crew settles in for the night flight. I’m deep into a file on magical residue detection when I hear footsteps; deliberate, measured, the sound of someone who moves with purpose.
Luke stops beside my seat, and his scent wafts around me. Warm, smoky in that way of dragons, with something sharper underneath. Something that makes my nerves fire in ways that have nothing to do with anxiety.
I look up, startled. Up close, he’s even more imposing; tall, broad-shouldered, his brown eyes darker than I expected.
Warmer, too, though his expression gives nothing away.
There’s a faint scar along his jaw that I’ve never noticed before, barely visible in the low light. My fingers itch to trace it.
Stop.
“Ember.”
His voice is a low rumble, clipped and professional. But there’s something in the way he says my name that makes my stomach flip.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t call me sir.” His tone is curt.
“Okay, um… Mr. Kenan… Commander Kenan?” I try to correct myself.
“Luke will do. We’ll be on the ground as civilians. We can’t have people realizing you’re my subordinate.”
Subordinate? Seriously?
“Right. Sure,” I say, biting my tongue to avoid adding something snarky. I get that he’s aloof, but he doesn’t have to be a dick on top of it.
“You’ve reviewed the mission parameters?” he goes on.
“Yes, uh… Luke. I—”
“Good. When we land in Bucharest, we’ll transfer to a secondary vehicle. We’re traveling under civilian cover; geological consultants conducting fieldwork. You’ll carry forged credentials. Do not deviate from the cover story, even with locals who seem friendly. Understood?”
“Understood, but I have a few questions about—”
“Save them.” His tone sharpens, slicing through my enthusiasm. “You’ll receive further briefing during the drive. Right now, I need you focused and quiet. This isn’t a sightseeing trip.”
Heat flares in my chest. Not excitement this time, but something sharper. Embarrassment. Frustration. And underneath it, something I don’t want to examine: the way his voice wraps around me like rough velvet, the way my body seems hyperaware of how close he’s standing.
I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to nod. “Yes. Of course.”
He holds my gaze for one more second. Something tightens in his cheek, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. His eyes drop—just for a moment—to my mouth before snapping back up. Then he steps back, putting distance between us so deliberately it feels like a statement.
“Get some rest,” he says, his voice flat again. “Long night ahead.”
He turns and walks back to his seat without another word, leaving me staring after him with my pulse racing and my skin too warm.
I stare at my tablet, my cheeks burning. Focused and quiet. Like I’m some overeager rookie who can’t handle basic instructions. Which, okay, maybe I am a rookie, but I’m not an idiot. I’ve earned this assignment.
“Don’t take it personally,” Mara whispers from across the aisle. “He’s like that with everyone.”
“Does he ever say anything that isn’t an order or a criticism?”
“Not in my experience. But hey, at least he’s consistent.” She pauses, studying me with those sharp eyes. “Though for what it’s worth, that’s the longest I’ve ever seen him stand next to someone without looking like he wants to be literally anywhere else.”
“He looked like he wanted to throw me out a window.”
“Nah. Trust me, I know his ‘throw you out a window’ face. That was something else.” Her grin turns knowing. “Interesting.”
I don’t ask what she means. I don’t want to know.
I force myself back to the files, determined to prove I belong here.
Hours later, the plane begins its descent. I press my face to the window again as the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon. Below, the landscape shifts; rolling hills, dense forests, and then, rising in the distance like ancient sentinels, the Carpathian Mountains.
My breath catches. I’ve seen pictures, but they don’t do justice to the raw, jagged beauty of those peaks. Snow clings to the highest ridges, and the valleys are swallowed in mist.
This is where dragons fought. Where fire scorched the earth and magic bled into the soil.
A thrill runs through me, sharp and electric. Recognition without memory.
“Your mother said this was your first time abroad?”
I jump, twisting in my seat. Luke stands in the aisle again, his duffel slung over one shoulder, his expression unreadable.
But his eyes… his eyes are on the mountains beyond the window, and something in them shifts.
Softens, just for a heartbeat, before that professional mask slides back into place.
“Yes,” I admit.
He’s quiet for a moment, still watching the peaks. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. Rougher.
“The mountains are older than any of us. They’ve seen more fire and blood than you can imagine.” His gaze flicks to me, holding for a beat too long. “Don’t romanticize them.”
Then he moves past me toward the cockpit, his arm brushing my shoulder as he walks by. The contact is brief, accidental, but it sends heat racing through me that has nothing to do with the rising sun outside.
I sit frozen, my pulse pounding, as the plane touches down on the tarmac in Bucharest. The engines whine as we taxi toward a private hangar, and I gather my gear with shaking hands.
This is it. My first real mission.
I glance toward the cockpit where Luke is speaking quietly with the pilot, his posture rigid, his attention absolute. Then his eyes cut to me—just for a second—before he turns away.
My stomach flips.
Why? Why does he have that effect on me?
I sling my pack over my shoulder, ignoring the way my skin still feels warm where he brushed against me.
Fine. I’ll show him exactly how focused I can be.
Even if I can’t quite stop wondering why his eyes lingered on mine, or what that flicker of something meant before he locked it away.
The cargo door opens, and cold mountain air rushes in, stealing my breath.
Luke descends first, moving with that controlled grace that shouldn’t be as compelling as it is. He doesn’t look back.
But I feel his awareness like a physical touch, and I’m starting to suspect the ice isn’t the problem.
It’s the fire underneath.