Chapter Twenty-Four
RAZE
Seelie portal magic dissipates across the ruined clubhouse, leaving behind the acrid stench of fae enchantment and the scorched remnants of everything left behind.
My dragon roars against the confines of flesh and bone, demanding transformation, demanding flight, demanding that I tear through dimensional barriers until I drag Roxy back from whatever frozen hell the goddamn prince has taken her to.
But rage won’t get Roxy back.
Fire alone won’t breach the Seelie Realm.
I force my scales back, and they recede beneath human skin, with an effort that leaves my muscles trembling and frost creeping across the stone beneath my boots.
Scar materializes beside me, flesh still smoking from where the prince’s magic burned through vampire resilience. His red eyes meet mine, ancient and understanding in ways that centuries of existence have carved into his very bones.
But before I can mobilize my brothers for the assault that will either reclaim what’s mine or end me trying, the air in the center of the clubhouse begins to shimmer with power that makes my dragon recoil on pure instinct.
The temperature doesn’t drop or rise. Reality simply… shifts, bending around a presence that existed before dragons walked the earth, before vampires learned to feed on blood, before the first Fae Court carved territories from living magic.
She appears without ceremony or warning, manifesting in the space between heartbeats as though she had always been there, and we had simply failed to notice until now.
The witch.
Roxy’s mother.
The creature who cursed me three centuries ago and rewrote my entire existence to serve her version of balance.
The witch stands perhaps five and a half feet tall, her slim frame wrapped in obsidian silk, threaded with dull gold runes that pulse slowly and patiently beneath the surface.
Violet light ghosts through the fabric when she moves, shadow and gold folding over one another like a living script that refuses to stay still.
Her face carries the same sharp features I’ve memorized from Roxy, cheekbones that could cut glass, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
But where Roxy’s eyes burn bright with defiance and barely restrained power, her mother’s gaze holds something older…
authority worn so long it no longer needs force to be obeyed.
Those eyes, deep violet rimmed in molten gold, sweep across the destruction of my clubhouse with cold precision. They track shattered glass, charred walls, fae blood still steaming against ancient stone, cataloging every fracture and scorch mark like a ledger written in war and consequence.
Nothing escapes her notice.
Not the violence.
Not the defiance.
Not me.
When she finally speaks, her voice carries the weight of absolute law. “You’ve broken the rules, dragon.”
Fire erupts beneath my skin in response, ice following immediately after in patterns that war for dominance across my scales.
The dragon claws for release, a violent, instinctive surge pushing at the edges of my control, but I hold the line, power rolling off me in brutal waves that turn the air razor-cold and heavy, frost pressing against every throat in the room.
“She chose me,” I snarl, and the words rip from my throat, edged in flames I can barely contain. “Your daughter chose to stay, chose to break your precious curse, chose me over your fucking laws.”
The witch’s expression doesn’t change. “My daughter was sent to observe, to report. To help you find the contentment necessary to master your fire before it consumes everything around you.” Her gaze sharpens, ancient and unyielding. “She was never meant to become part of the equation.”
That lands harder than any accusation.
Not because of the curse.
Because of her.
My jaw tightens, heat and frost grinding together beneath my skin. “I already know why you cursed me,” I say, voice low, dangerous. “You thought I’d burn the world down if you didn’t.”
“Yes,” she agrees calmly. “But you misunderstood what I was watching for.” Her eyes flick toward the empty crystal dome, then back to me. “The fire was never the problem. Your inability to choose something beyond it was.”
The words sink in slow and sharp.
Not punishment.
Not redemption.
A test.
Rage stirs, but it’s different now, edged with something colder than fury. “So, she was a measure,” I say quietly. “A way for you to see whether I’d destroy the one thing that could ground me.”
The witch inclines her head slightly, neither confirming nor denying, which feels worse than either. “She was meant to witness whether a dragon could learn restraint without losing himself.” Her voice softens by a fraction. “I did not anticipate that you would anchor each other instead.”
Pieces begin sliding into place with brutal clarity.
The way my fire calmed when she touched me.
The way the dome reacted to her presence.
The way my dragon stopped raging and started…
… listening.
Not a revelation about the curse.
A revelation about us.
The witch studies me for a long moment, ancient power recognizing ancient power. Then her gaze shifts, sweeping across my assembled brothers with the kind of assessment that sees past flesh to the supernatural cores beneath.
“Love cannot be controlled,” she agrees at last, voice quiet but threaded with something heavier than concession. “But it can be… observed.”
My teeth grind together. “You already had your observation,” I say, frost creeping along my knuckles. “The curse broke. The balance held. What else do you fucking want?”
Her eyes return to mine, and this time there’s no softness left in them—only calculation.
“I was not waiting to see if you would fall in love,” she says. “I was waiting to see what you would do when love became a weakness someone else could exploit.”
The words land like a blade sliding between ribs.
Scar goes perfectly still beside me.
“The Seelie Prince did not take my daughter by accident,” the witch continues, voice level.
“He felt the shift in you when the curse fractured. Felt the balance settle. You changed the shape of power in this region the moment you learned restraint.” Her head tilts slightly.
“And predators notice when a monster chooses attachment.”
My dragon snarls under my skin, wings twitching with suppressed violence.
“You knew this would happen,” I accuse, low and lethal.
“I knew it was inevitable the moment she began to fall,” the witch corrects.
“This would always be the final measure if she was a part of your world.” Her gaze sharpens.
“Not whether you could control your fire. Whether you could hold onto that control when someone threatened the one thing capable of unmaking you.”
Silence swallows the room.
The brothers shift subtly behind me, the weight of her words settling into bone.
Scar exhales slowly, something dark flickering behind his eyes. “So this isn’t a lecture,” he murmurs. “It’s a warning.”
“It is an answer,” she says simply. “You believe you have achieved balance. The Seelie Court believes they have found your breaking point. I tried to protect her. I wiped her memory so she would be safe from this fate.” Her attention pins me in place, ancient and unyielding.
“What happens next will determine whether you have achieved your balance, or the seelies have had the upper hand this entire time.”
Fire and frost surge together beneath my skin, not fighting, not raging, but coiling tight with purpose.
“You’re telling me this is still a damn test,” I ask.
“I am telling you…” she replies, “… that the world is watching to see whether a dragon who finally found contentment will become a monster again when it is taken from him.”
Wreck stands motionless against the far wall, gaunt frame radiating hunger even now.
Coil’s serpentine eyes glow faintly gold as he watches the witch with the wariness of a predator recognizing something higher on the food chain.
Maul’s werewolf form has receded, but his muscles still ripple with barely contained violence, ready to transform at the first sign of threat.
Thorn bleeds sap from wounds carved by fae blades, thorns still sprouting from his shoulders in defensive configurations.
Ruckus leans against what remains of the bar, gold charms catching light that shouldn’t exist, probability already bending in subtle ways around his small frame.
Flux hovers near the door in hawk form, ready to shift and strike if necessary.
Even the prospects stand ready. Rhett’s shadows pool at his feet despite the overhead lights, hellfire flickering behind his eyes in sullen orange pulses. Bennett’s wings haven’t manifested but divine light bleeds from his shoulders in ways that make the air shimmer with potential violence.
We’re prepared to fight her.
All of us.
Every supernatural creature in this room understands that attempting to harm a witch of her caliber is suicidal. But we’ll do it anyway if she tries to keep Roxy from us.
The witch sees this calculation play out across our stances, and something that might be approval flickers through her expression.
“You want her back,” she states, and it’s not a question.
“Yes.” The word comes out wrapped in enough fire to scorch the air.
“Then prove you’ve changed.” Her eyes lock onto mine with the weight of three centuries of curse and consequence.
“Control the fire. Balance it with the ice I gave you. Demonstrate that you’ve evolved beyond the dragon who burned everything he touched.
” The challenge hangs in the air between us, stark and absolute. “Or we all lose her forever.”
My dragon howls in protest, fire surging so violently that frost explodes across the floor in defensive response. But I force both elements down into an uneasy equilibrium that trembles at the edges but holds.
The witch watches this internal battle with clinical interest before her gaze shifts to encompass every brother assembled in this annihilated clubhouse.
“Protect my daughter,” she says, and for the first time, her voice carries something that resembles vulnerability underneath absolute authority. “Can you do that?”
Scar answers first, his voice carrying the conviction of five centuries lived in shadows. “With our lives.”
Wreck’s hollow rasp follows. “With our lives.”
“With our lives,” Coil hisses, his basilisk tongue flickering.
One by one, every brother in this room echoes the vow.
Maul’s werewolf growl, Thorn’s rough-bark voice, Flux’s shape-shifter adaptability, Ruckus’ leprechaun certainty, and even Rhett and Bennett, who can barely stand being in the same room without sniping at each other, speak the words in perfect unison, “With our lives.”
The witch closes her eyes for a breath, and when she opens them again, something ancient and profound stares out from behind that human mask.
“Then go,” she says quietly. “Bring. Her. Home.” She raises one hand, fingers tracing patterns in the air that leave glowing sigils in their wake.
Reality fractures along the lines she draws, space folding in on itself with the sound of breaking glass and tearing silk.
A portal opens in the center of the clubhouse, swirling with colors that hurt to look at directly, showing glimpses of a fortress built from moonlight and crystallized starfall.
The Seelie Realm.
Where the prince holds Roxy prisoner.
Where my mate waits, trapped and alone, surrounded by creatures who view humans as toys and half-trained witches as prizes to be claimed.
I move toward the portal without hesitation, fire and ice spiraling together beneath my skin in patterns that no longer fight for dominance but work in wonderful harmony.
My brothers fall into formation behind me, each one checking weapons, manifesting claws, preparing for the kind of violence that will either end the Seelie Court’s power or end us trying.
Before I step through, I glance back at the witch one final time.
She meets my gaze without flinching. “Bring my daughter home, dragon,” she says softly. “And prove to me that contentment isn’t the absence of fire… but the balance of everything you are.”
I don’t answer with words. I simply step through the portal, my brothers following close behind, and reality swallows us whole.
The last thing I see before the clubhouse disappears is the fractured crystal dome, where my flame once burned.
Now my flame is burning inside me.
Burning for her.
Burning for us both.
And I swear on every scale of my dragon’s hide that I’ll bring Roxy home, no matter how many fae I have to freeze, burn, or shatter to do it.
The Seelie Court has no idea what’s coming.
But they will.
They’ll learn what it means to take something from a dragon who’s finally found balance.
And they’ll pay the price in blood and the ashes of their empire.