Chapter 8
FINN
Her blood calls to me through the storm.
The mate bond pulls like a physical tether, dragging me through wind and rain straight toward the cliffs where Mikhail's scent burns like a beacon. Phoenix fire and fear and the copper tang of Lila's blood mixing into a scent signature that makes my dragon scream with rage.
The cave mouth opens below, hidden in the cliff face where tidal erosion carved chambers into volcanic rock. Flames flicker inside, visible even through the storm. Mikhail's not hiding. He's waiting.
I tuck my wings and dive.
The entrance is barely wide enough for my dragon form but I don't slow. Stone scrapes against scales as I crash through, momentum carrying me into the cave with enough force to crack rock beneath my claws. My wings snap open, filling the space, blocking the exit behind me.
Lila is bound near the back wall, blood dripping from a cut on her forearm into a stone basin. The symbols carved into the floor pulse with sickly light, fed by her blood, building power with every drop that falls. Her eyes go wide when she sees me, relief and terror warring across her face.
Mikhail stands beside her with one hand on her shoulder, casual as a man discussing weather. He smiles.
"Right on schedule, old friend."
I shift before the mist clears, my human form solidifying between one heartbeat and the next. I'm naked, unarmed, every line of my body coiled for violence. "Let her go."
"Or what?" He doesn't move his hand. "You'll kill me? You've had centuries to try. Yet here I stand." His fingers tighten on Lila's shoulder, not enough to bruise but enough to make his point. "And here she sits, exactly where I need her."
The symbols flare brighter. The air thickens with power I recognize, the kind that binds and drains and feeds on life force. Lila tries to move and can't. The ritual has her locked in place, held by magic stronger than rope.
"Your quarrel is with me. Let her go and we'll settle this."
"My quarrel is with your stupidity." Mikhail circles behind Lila, using her as a shield between us. "I'm trying to help you. Again. Just like I helped you with Saoirse."
Her name on his lips sends fire burning at the back of my throat. I swallow it down. The dragon fire would fill this cave, incinerate everything. Including Lila.
"You murdered her."
"I freed you from a weakness that would have destroyed you.
" He leans down, speaking near Lila's ear but loud enough for me to hear.
"Mortals die, Dr. Mercer. Even claimed ones eventually tire of immortality, of watching everyone they knew turn to dust. Saoirse would have left him eventually, one way or another. I simply accelerated the inevitable."
Lila's jaw tightens. Her hands are moving behind her back, small movements I catch only because I'm watching for any sign she's hurt worse than the cut. "You're insane."
"I'm practical." Mikhail straightens, his gaze fixed on me. "And I loved Finn enough to make the hard choice when he wouldn't. I removed the attachment that made him vulnerable. Gave him freedom to be what he was meant to be—a dragon unburdened by mortal complications."
"I repaid you with hatred." The words taste like ash. "Destroyed your compound. Broke your wings. Left you bleeding in the ruins."
"And I've spent centuries waiting for you to understand I was right." His expression changes to something that might be genuine pain beneath the madness. "But you never did. So this time, I'll let you make the choice."
The air pressure changes. The symbols pulse faster, brighter, synchronized with Lila's heartbeat in a rhythm that aches through my teeth. Mikhail is building toward something, using her blood to power a working I can feel gathering strength.
"What choice?"
"Give yourself to the ritual willingly. Let me drain your essence, ascend to what phoenixes were meant to become.
In exchange, she goes free." He gestures at Lila with casual certainty.
"Refuse, and I complete the ritual with her blood instead.
She dies screaming while you watch. Then I hunt you down anyway and take what I need. "
The old ritual. I recognize it now from the symbols, from the basin's placement, from the way her blood feeds the pattern.
Siphoning immortal power through sacrifice.
I've seen the aftermath before, centuries ago, when Mikhail experimented on lesser immortals.
Never thought he'd perfected it enough to attempt a dragon.
Lila makes a sound low in her throat, fury cutting through fear. Her hands are definitely moving, working at the ropes despite the magical binding holding her torso in place.
The choice isn't a choice. Never was. I step forward, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening despite every instinct screaming to rip Mikhail's throat out. "Fine. Take me. Let her go first."
"Finn, no." Lila's voice cracks. "Don't. It's a trap."
"Of course it's a trap." Mikhail's smile widens. "But he'll walk into it anyway because he can't help himself. Love makes immortals weak, and Finn has always been too sentimental for his own good."
I take another step. "Your word she goes free."
"You have it." He releases Lila's shoulder, moving away from her toward the basin. "Once the ritual completes and I have your essence, she can walk out of here. I'll even give her a head start before I collapse the cave entrance."
Lila's working the ropes faster now, her shoulders changing with effort. Whatever she's doing, she needs time. I give it to her.
"Why?" The question comes out rougher than intended. "We were friends for millennia. What changed?"
"You did." Real emotion bleeds into Mikhail's voice now, centuries of resentment finally surfacing.
"You stopped being a dragon and started being mortal-adjacent.
Caring about their little lives, protecting their fragile civilizations, bonding with a human woman like she was your equal. You forgot what you were."
"I remembered what I wanted to be."
"Weak." He spits the word like poison. "Sentimental. Vulnerable. Everything I saved you from when I killed Saoirse. And you rewarded me with hatred instead of gratitude."
Behind him, Lila's hands come free. She doesn't move otherwise, keeping her body perfectly still while her freed hands work at something I can't see. Smart. She understands predators respond to movement.
"So you built this." I gesture at the cave, the symbols, the setup. "Ritual sacrifices. Drowning victims. All to accumulate enough power to trap a dragon."
"To save you." His eyes burn with absolute conviction. "One last time. I'll drain your essence, ascend beyond phoenix limitations, and you'll finally be free of the weakness that's plagued you for centuries. No more caring. No more attachments. Just the peace of non-existence."
"That's not salvation. That's murder dressed up in justification."
"Call it what you want." He reaches for the ornate knife lying near the basin. "Your choice remains the same. Give yourself to the ritual, or watch her die first."
Lila moves.
She kicks out with both feet, slamming into the ritual basin. The stone vessel tips, spilling her blood across the carved symbols in a chaotic spray that breaks the careful pattern. The binding magic holding her snaps like cut rope.
She rolls away from the basin, putting distance between herself and Mikhail with the kind of quick thinking that comes from years of solo fieldwork in dangerous conditions.
Mikhail snarls and launches himself at her.
I'm already moving. The shift takes me mid-stride, human to dragon between one heartbeat and the next.
Bones lengthen, crack, reform. Muscle mass explodes outward in a surge of ancient power.
Scales erupt across expanding flesh, crimson and black, each one harder than steel.
My skull elongates, jaw unhinging to accommodate teeth the size of daggers.
Wings unfurl from my shoulders with enough force to crack stone.
The transformation completes before Mikhail crosses half the distance to Lila.
I catch him with my shoulder. The impact sends him flying backward, his human form crashing into the cave wall hard enough to crack volcanic rock.
I follow, closing the gap with speed that shouldn't be possible for something my size.
My claws—each one as long as a man's forearm—slam into stone on either side of him, pinning him in place.
He looks up at me. My dragon form towers over him, filling half the cave, wings pressed against the ceiling. I can see my reflection in his eyes. Scales gleaming in the firelight. Teeth bared. Every line of my body built for one purpose: killing things that threaten what's mine.
Mikhail smiles.
Then he burns.
Not metaphorically. His entire body erupts into flames hot enough to turn sand to glass, to slag rock, to make the air itself shimmer and warp.
Phoenix fire doesn't just burn—it consumes.
It unmakes. The heat slams into me like a physical blow, searing through scales that can withstand ocean trench pressure, cooking the flesh beneath.
I roar. The sound fills the cave, primal and furious, loud enough to shake loose stone from the ceiling. But I don't release him. I press harder, using my weight to crush him into the wall, to hold him in the flames he's generating.
The fire intensifies. My scales blacken. The smell of burning flesh—my own—fills my nostrils. Heat penetrates deeper, reaching muscle, threatening organs. Phoenix fire doesn't care about dragon hide. Given enough time, it will cook me from the inside out.
I release him and stagger back.
Mikhail's body collapses into ash and flame, the fire consuming him completely. For one heartbeat, there's nothing but glowing embers and smoke. Then the fire condenses, drawing back into itself, reforming into human shape a few feet away.
He stands there, completely healed, not even breathing hard. Eyes blazing with fury and something that might be satisfaction.
"You never learn."