Chapter 35 Damon
THIRTY-FIVE
DAMON
Damon’s legs pumped hard against the ground as he chased the black SUV carrying his mate, his lungs burning with each desperate breath.
The vehicle’s taillights grew smaller in the distance, but he refused to stop, refused to accept that Kaelith—his best friend, his brother in all but blood—had just ripped away the only good thing to enter his life in a century.
This can’t be happening again.
The betrayal sliced through him like a blade. Kaelith, who had sat with him through countless dark nights after the raid. Kaelith, who had been the only constant in a world that had taught Damon that trust led to death.
How could you do this? The question screamed through his mind as his feet pounded the dirt road. After everything we’ve been through—
Then it hit him like a freight train. The mate bond, which had been humming constantly between him and Isla, suddenly went silent. Damon stumbled to a halt, his hands flying to his chest where the bond should have been singing. Panic flooded his system, turning his blood to ice.
What did they do to her?
His dragon roared under his skin, demanding he shift, demanding he hunt down the vehicle and tear apart anyone who dared touch his mate.
But his body wouldn’t obey. Instead, his knees hit the dirt road with jarring force, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
The air wouldn’t come. His lungs seized, refusing to expand, and black spots danced at the edges of his vision.
His hands clawed at his throat as if he could physically force oxygen into his body.
She’s still alive, his instincts whispered.
But the panic attack crashed over him like a tsunami, dragging him back to that night a century ago.
He could see his parents’ lifeless bodies again, could smell the smoke and blood that had filled the estate.
Could remember standing at the ancient ceremonial grounds days afterward, staring at the graves of dozens of clan members who had died because he’d trusted the wrong person.
Kaelith had been there too, through all of it. Even had found Damon standing at the cliff’s edge three days later, ready to end his suffering. Had talked him down, had promised that life was worth living, that Damon was needed.
You saved me just so you could destroy me yourself, didn’t you?
The betrayal cut deeper than his uncle’s had, because this time he’d known better.
This time he’d had a century to learn that trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Yet he’d given it anyway—to Kaelith, to the mate bond, to the hope that maybe he could have something beautiful without it turning to ash.
Tears soon tracked down his face as he knelt in the dirt, his powerful frame shaking with sobs that came from a place deeper than grief.
This was devastation, pure and complete.
“Damon!”
The voice cut through his spiral. Footsteps pounded toward him, and suddenly Evelina was kneeling beside him, her hands gripping his shoulders with surprising strength.
“Snap out of it,” she commanded, shaking him hard enough to rattle his teeth. “I need you present. Now.”
Damon blinked, trying to force air into his lungs. Mikal appeared at his other side, his usually jovial face grim with concern.
“Kaelith,” Damon gasped, his voice raw. “He took her. The mate bond—it’s silent. I don’t know if she’s—”
“She’s alive,” Evelina said firmly. “If she weren’t, you’d know it. Now breathe, nephew. Deep breaths.”
Damon forced himself to follow her instructions, drawing shaky breaths until the world stopped spinning. Evelina and Mikal helped him to his feet, and he swayed slightly before finding his balance.
“Why?” The word came out broken. “Why would he do this?”
Evelina’s green eyes hardened with fury. “I heard quite an interesting tale from some elder clan members. Kaelith went to them recently, pleading his case for becoming Alpha assuming you were killed in that ambush. Since you survived, his plans clearly needed adjustment.”
“He wanted to be Alpha?”
“Makes sense when you think about it,” Mikal said quietly. “He’s been acting like Alpha for a century, doing most of the duties you would have been doing if you hadn’t been...”
“Self-isolating,” Damon finished, the guilt crashing over him anew. “I should have seen this coming. I put all that responsibility on his shoulders and never thought—”
“We have bigger problems right now,” Evelina interrupted. “After the failed ambush, the elders said Kaelith turned to Veyrik for help. Pledged his allegiance. Veyrik is taking matters into his own hands now.”
Damon’s blood turned to molten fire. “How?”
Before anyone could answer, screams erupted from the direction of the main territory. The sound carried on the wind—terror, pain, and chaos.
Understanding crashed over Damon like a cold wave. Veyrik’s plan was diabolical in its simplicity. Split Damon’s focus. Force him to choose between his people and his mate, knowing that either choice would destroy him.
Damon’s dragon rose in his chest, no longer paralyzed by panic or fear, but focusing with deadly purpose. The beast that had been dormant for too long, the Alpha who had hidden away, was done being a victim of other people’s betrayals.
You have no idea what you just unleashed, he thought grimly, his green eyes beginning to glow with dragon fire.
The sound of Damon’s boots hitting the dirt road echoed like gunshots as he forced himself into motion. Evelina matched his pace effortlessly, her expression carved from stone, while Mikal flanked his other side with the focused intensity of a warrior preparing for battle.
Isla. Damon pushed the thought through their telepathic connection with desperate force. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me where you are.
Nothing. The silence where her warmth should have been felt like a gaping wound.
“Keep trying,” Evelina said without breaking stride, as if she could sense his mental efforts. “The mate bond doesn’t just disappear. Whatever they used to suppress it—”
“It’s temporary,” Mikal finished grimly. “Has to be. You’d know if she were...”
“Don’t.” The word came out rougher than Damon intended, but he couldn’t bear to hear anyone voice that possibility.
They crested the hill leading to the main area of the territory, and the sight that greeted them stopped Damon cold.
The air itself seemed to vibrate with violence—dragons wheeling through the sky in deadly aerial combat, their roars splitting the afternoon calm.
Below, the main square had become a war zone of fire and fury.
Kalis’s golden form dove toward a cluster of Damon’s people, who had shifted into defensive positions around the general store. Sylara’s sleek red dragon circled overhead like a predator, her fire raining down in calculated bursts designed to separate and isolate targets.
“At least fifty of Veyrik’s dragons,” Mikal reported, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. “But our people are holding the line. No casualties yet that I can see.”
Damon’s hands clenched into fists as his dragon roared beneath his skin, demanding release.
Every instinct screamed at him to shift, to throw himself into the battle and tear apart anyone who dared threaten his territory.
The Alpha in him could see exactly how the fight would unfold—where to strike, which enemy dragons to target first, and how to turn their own tactics against them.
Isla, please. He pushed harder through their telepathic link, pouring every ounce of love and desperation into the mental call. I need you to answer me. I need to know you’re alive.
Still nothing.
“Damon.” Evelina’s voice cut through his internal struggle like a blade. “Look at me.”
He turned, and the expression on his aunt’s face made his chest tighten. She looked older somehow, the weight of centuries suddenly visible in the lines around her green eyes.
“I know you want to stay here and fight,” she said, her voice carrying the authority that had guided their clan for longer than most could remember. “I know every fiber of your being is telling you to protect your people. But your mate needs you, and only you can save her right now.”
“I don’t know where they took her,” Damon ground out, his gaze flickering back to the battle. One of his younger clan members—barely past his first century—was struggling against Kalis’s superior size and experience. “I don’t know if she’s okay, if she’s even—”
“She is.” Evelina stepped closer, her hand finding his arm with surprising strength.
“And you know it too, or you’d already be in pieces.
Follow your heart, nephew. Keep pushing your strength and thoughts through the bond.
No matter what drug or suppression device they used, the power of true mates will override it. You just have to keep trying.”
“And keep trusting,” Mikal added quietly.
Trust.
The word hit Damon like a battering ram. After Kaelith’s betrayal, after a century of learning that trust led to loss, they were asking him to trust—in the bond, in his people’s ability to defend themselves, and in his own instincts.
I can’t lose her though. The thought was raw and desperate. Not because I failed to act sooner again.
“Your people have been preparing for this type of fight longer than you think,” Evelina continued, her eyes never leaving his face.
“They’re strong, Damon. Stronger than you’ve given them credit for.
They don’t need you to save them—they need you to trust them to save themselves while you do what only you can do. ”
Below them, the battle raged on. But as Damon watched, he began to see what Evelina meant.
His clan wasn’t just defending—they were coordinating, working together with a precision that spoke of long practice.
They’d been preparing for this possibility, planning for the day their distant Alpha might not be there to lead the charge.
They were magnificent.
Isla. He tried again, pouring everything he had into the mental call. I’m coming. Hold on.
This time, something flickered. Not her voice, not even a coherent thought, but a whisper of presence, faint as a dying ember but unmistakably her.
“She’s alive,” he breathed, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave.
Evelina smiled, fierce and proud. “Then go get her.”
Damon pulled his aunt into a fierce embrace, breathing in her familiar scent. “If anything happens to you while I’m gone—”
“Nothing will happen,” she said firmly, pulling back to meet his eyes. “We’ve survived worse than Veyrik’s games. Go. Bring Isla home.”
Damon stepped back, his body already beginning the shift. Heat raced along his spine as his human form dissolved, his muscles expanding and reshaping, his bones lengthening and strengthening. His clothes tore apart as his obsidian scales erupted across his skin like liquid shadow.
Within seconds, his massive dragon form stood where the man had been, his wings spread wide enough to cast shadows over both Evelina and Mikal. His molten green eyes fixed on the horizon, every sense straining for any trace of his mate.
Isla, I’m coming for you now, he promised as he launched himself skyward with a thunderous beat of his wings.
The wind beneath his wings carried him away from the battle, away from his people’s fight, toward an unknown destination and an uncertain fate. But for the first time since Kaelith’s betrayal was revealed, Damon felt something other than fear.
He felt purpose.