Chapter 22
Mara
Half an hour earlier
I promised I’d stay back. Promised Viktor. Promised Elena. Promised myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid or reckless or likely to get myself killed.
But watching the facility from this rocky outcrop while knowing K is inside—
Every second feels like breaking a vow.
“They move soon,” Andrei murmurs beside me.
I nod, throat too tight for words. I know what Caleb and the others have planned. Know that it’s strategically sound. An assault crafted by seasoned fighters. Still, it feels like I’m not doing enough.
Movement below snaps my attention back.
The facility lights cut out. All of them. Simultaneously.
Darkness swallows the compound.
“Now,” Nicolae breathes. “They strike now.”
Shouts echo up from below. Guards scrambling in the sudden dark. Confused. Disoriented.
Then… fire.
Not the facility burning. These are controlled strikes. Dragon fire in shades of gold and crimson and bronze, streaking through the night.
The Aurora Collective has descended, along with the Cravens.
My heart pounds as I watch shapes move through the darkness. Dragons, some fully shifted, some partial. Coordinated. Precise. Beautiful and terrible.
An explosion takes out the north fence section. Charges placed with precision, blowing a hole wide enough for—
A massive form crashes through.
Then another.
Shimmering bronze, huge wings creating a draft that I can feel all the way up here.
The Cravens in dragon form. I should have known they’d arrive with a flourish.
Behind them, others pour in, leveling everything before them.
Several clear the remaining operatives in the area while the main charge is aimed at the underground entrance.
Where they’ve taken K. I saw them leading him there earlier, and my heart almost stopped.
It was all I could do to wait till help got here. Now, impatience wins out.
“I’m going in,” I say, rising from my vantage point.
“Wait!” Andrei says, reaching for my arm, which I yank away.
“Don’t even try to stop me,” I snap.
“What would you even do, Mara?” Nicolae says. “Leave the fighting to the soldiers.”
“I can stop sitting here waiting, that’s what.
” I’m on my feet and moving quickly. I make it to the outer fence line before they catch up.
Then I’m clambering through the gaping hole left by the attackers and bolting across the compound.
Nobody stops me. They’re too busy getting the shit kicked out of them by the Cravens.
I make straight for the entrance and push my way through, moving quickly out of range of the battle beyond.
It’s madness inside. Syndicate operatives are fighting tooth and nail against partially shifted dragons. Some remain human, while others are more beast than man. The sight is terrifying. Or fascinating if you happen to be fully invested in the inexplicable. Which I am.
“Holy shitballs,” I breathe, taking in the sight of creatures I would have given my left arm to film just months ago. “Un-fucking-believable!”
That’s when I see him.
Gold scales catch the firelight. His skin shimmers with them. And the roar that follows shakes the ground beneath my feet.
K.
No. Not K.
Something more.
He’s huge. Easily twice the size of the other shifters moving through the compound. His scales gleam like molten metal, each one the size of my palm. Muscles ripple beneath that armored hide as he moves; fluid grace that shouldn’t be possible for something that massive.
And his eyes.
Even at this distance, even through the battle, I see them. Liquid gold. Burning with power and rage and absolute certainty.
For a second, they meet mine. My breath stops.
He’s magnificent.
The word doesn’t do him justice. Magnificent is too small, too human. This is something primal. Ancient. A force of nature given fire and terrible purpose.
Three Syndicate operatives rush him. Weapons raised.
He doesn’t even slow down.
One swipe of his massive, clawed hand sends two flying. The third tries to run.
Fire erupts from K’s throat. Not wild. Controlled. The operative’s weapon melts. He drops it with a scream and backs away.
God.
Another operative tries a suppression beam. The hum builds, that same frequency that brought K down before.
This time, he roars.
The sound is physical. It hits like a shockwave, and the device shatters. Just explodes into fragments.
The operative staggers back, hands raised in surrender.
More Syndicate forces pour out. Ten. Fifteen. All armed. All moving with deadly intent.
K meets them head-on.
And I watch—transfixed, terrified, awed—as he cuts through them like they barely exist.
Claws that tear through body armor. Heavy arms that send men flying. Fire that melts weapons without touching flesh. Speed that shouldn’t be possible for something his size.
He’s not just fighting. He’s dominating.
This isn’t the gentle protector who carried me when I was exhausted. This is something else. Something that’s been sleeping, waiting, held back by memory loss and uncertainty.
This is what he truly is.
Warrior. Weapon. Formidable.
And watching him—scales gleaming, fire pouring from his throat in controlled torrents—I feel something shift in my chest.
The hollow ache eases.
Not disappears. But lessens. Like being near him—even at this distance, even separated by fighting and violence—is enough to pull me back from whatever edge I’ve been teetering on.
I press my hand to my ribs. The pain that’s been building since he was taken—fading. The exhaustion—lifting. The sense of being slowly unmade—
Stopping.
“What—?” I whisper.
I feel… better.
The bond Dragana and the others had spoken about feels tangible. Undeniable.
The thought should bother me.
It doesn’t.
Because looking at him now—powerful and deadly and absolutely in his element—I understand.
I’m his. Have been since he pulled me from that wreckage. Since his fire wrapped around me and refused to let me die.
The bond isn’t just emotional.
It’s real. Physical. Magical.
And without him, I’ve been slowly falling apart.
Dying.
More Aurora dragons join the fight. I recognize some—the massive bronze form has to be Dorian. The slightly larger gold-tipped dragon fighting alongside him must be Caleb.
Together, they’re unstoppable.
The Syndicate forces realize it, too. Some try to flee. Others drop weapons and surrender.
Within minutes, it’s over.
Operatives on their knees, hands behind their heads. The facility secured. Fires burning but controlled.
Victory.
K stands in the center of it all, still partially shifted. Scales covering his torso and arms, shoulders impossibly wide. Breathing hard. Surveying the aftermath with those burning gold eyes.
Then he turns.
Looks directly at where I’ve stepped into the shadows, out of sight. At least, I thought I was.
He can feel me watching.
He starts toward me.
My pulse races as I watch him approach. Each step brings him closer. Each step makes the ache in my chest ease further.
The scales recede as he moves. By the time he’s standing in front of me, he’s mostly human again. Just hints of gold shimmering beneath his skin. Eyes still burning with power barely contained.
He stops. Close enough to touch. Close enough that his heat wraps around me. Familiar. Soothing.
“You came back,” he says. Voice rough. Deeper than usual.
“Of course I did.”
His hand lifts. Hesitates. Then cups my face with fingers still streaked with ash and blood.
I lean into the touch. Can’t help it.
“You should not be here,” he says quietly. “I told you to stay safe. To—”
“Yeah, well. I’m terrible at following orders.”
Something that might be a smile flickers across his face.
Then his expression shifts. “You are hurt. I feel it. The bond—it has been failing. Because I was not there to—”
“I’m okay now.” I press my hand over his, where it rests against my cheek. “You’re here. I feel better.”
“You should not have had to suffer because they took me.”
“You shouldn’t have been taken because you were protecting me.”
We stare at each other. Both guilty. Both relieved. Both completely unsure what happens next.
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Mara, I—”
Massive forms land behind him.
The impact shakes the ground. I stumble back, heart leaping into my throat.
Two dragons. Huge dragons. Almost as large as K was at full shift. They fold their wings. Scales recede. Within seconds, two men stand there instead.
Caleb and Dorian. The CEOs. The clan leaders. The most powerful dragons I know.
And they’re staring at K like he’s—
They drop to their knees.
Both of them. Simultaneously. Heads bowed. Fists pressed over their hearts in an oddly formal gesture.
“My Lord,” Caleb says. His voice carries a submissiveness I’ve never heard from him. “We are here to serve.”
I blink. “What the hell are you doing?” These guys are nothing like the arrogant bastards I’ve come to know and love a bit.
“Please, rise,” says K, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. “This isn’t necessary.”
“What isn’t necessary?” I ask. “K, what’s going on?”
The twins are rising, still looking at K with what could only be described as hero-worship.
“What the hell is wrong with you two? Caleb? Dorian? Did you take a knock to the head?”
Dorian’s head lifts. He looks at me like I’ve just spoken gibberish. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Who he is.” Dorian’s gaze shifts to K. Wonder and shock war in his expression. “What he is.”
“He’s a dragon,” I say slowly. “With amnesia. I told Viktor that. You knew this already.”
“We knew he was a dragon.” Caleb rises slowly, like movement might spook a wild animal. His eyes never leave K’s face. “We didn’t know he was the dragon.”
“The what?”
“Kael Craven.” Caleb’s voice shakes. Actually shakes. “The Sleeping King. Greatest of our line. Our ancestor. Our—” He stops. Swallows hard. “Our king.”
The words don’t make sense.
I look at K. See the way he’s gone absolutely still. Listening intently as I try to understand all this.
“That’s impossible,” I say. “The Sleeping King is a legend. A story. The Syndicate tried to wake him, and it didn’t work because he wasn’t real.”
“I am quite real, Mara,” he says quietly.
“It worked.” Dorian’s voice is meek. Awe-struck. “We just didn’t know it. Didn’t know you woke with no memory. Wandered into the mountains. Were just—” He swallows hard. “Just surviving. While we thought the ritual failed.” He bows his head. “I am so sorry, my Lord.”
My brain struggles to process this.
K. The man who saved me. Cared for me.
Is a mythical Dragon King.
“No,” I hear myself say. “That can’t be right. He’s… He’s just K. He doesn’t remember anything before a few weeks ago. He’s not some ancient—”
“Look at him,” Caleb interrupts. Not unkind. Just factual. “Look at what he just did. The power. The scale of it.” His jaw tightens. “Only one dragon in history could do that. Move like that. Burn through suppression fields designed to contain a dozen dragons.”
I look at K.
See him staring at his hands like they belong to someone else. Like the pieces are clicking into place too fast for him to process.
His face is pale. “I did not know—”
“You couldn’t have known.” Caleb’s voice softens. “You didn’t remember what you were. Your dragon was operating on pure instinct. Survival mode.”
Silence falls.
“Fuck,” says Dorian. “That’s what Luke and Ember felt when they were out here. Something alive in the mountains. You took their power.”
“The mountain fed me,” K says. “I did not choose it.”
“But you helped them,” says Caleb. “When they were in trouble. It was you.”
K inclines his head. “Yes.”
I look between them—the Craven twins looking humbled, K standing in silence, and me trying to make my brain accept the impossible.
K is Kael Craven.
The Dragon King from four hundred years ago.
The one Lyria Rossewyn died for.
Lyria.
The name he called me.
Understanding crashes down in a rush.
He wasn’t imagining me as some random lost love.
He was remembering her. His mate. The woman who gave her life to save his bloodline.
The woman Elena is descended from.
And I—
I look nothing like her. Share no bloodline. Have no connection except proximity and circumstance.
I was never going to be anything but a placeholder for a ghost.
The realization shouldn’t hurt this much.
It does anyway.
“Mara?” K’s voice. Concerned. He takes a step toward me. “You are pale. Are you—?”
“I’m fine.” The lie comes automatically. “Just—processing. This is a lot.”
“Yes.” He looks at the Craven brothers, still kneeling. “This is… I do not—” He stops. Starts again. “I am not your king. It has been too long. I am just—”
“You are Kael Craven.” Caleb’s voice is firm. “Whether you like it or not. The blood knows. The power knows.” He pauses. “We know.”
K shakes his head. “I am K. That is all I—”
Then he stops.
“I did not ask for this.” His voice is muted.
Weird. You’d think that finally getting your memory back and finding out you’re some kind of hero-king would make you pretty pleased with yourself.
He just looks… crestfallen.
“You are the Dragon King,” Dorian says quietly. “And we are honored to be in your presence.”
More dragons approach. Talon, Riven, others I don’t recognize.
All of them stop when they see K.
All of them lower their heads in respect.
K looks overwhelmed. Lost. Like he’s drowning in recognition he didn’t ask for.
His eyes find mine. Hold.
And I see the question there: Did you know?
“Mara?” he says.
I shake my head. “I had no idea. I knew the legend. But I didn’t know—” My voice breaks. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“The legend.” He says it like the word tastes strange.
“Who went into magical sleep four hundred years ago.” My voice is shaking now. Can’t help it. “After his mate died. After Lyria Rossewyn—”
His whole body jerks at the name.
“Lyria,” he breathes. “That is… She was—”
“Your mate.” The word scrapes out. “The woman you loved.”
His expression shifts. Grief so profound it makes my heart stall.
“I remember,” he whispers. “I remember her. More clearly than anything.”
Of course he does.
Of course she’s the memory that survived best.
Not me. Not the woman standing in front of him. But the ghost he’s been mourning without knowing it. And now, he’s himself again. Ready to take on the role he was born for.
A role that could never have room for me.
I take a step back. Then another.
And then I turn to leave.