Chapter 36 Isla
THIRTY-SIX
ISLA
The world tilted sideways as Kaelith’s arms lifted Isla from the SUV’s leather seat, her body limp as a rag doll despite her mind screaming in protest. Whatever they’d injected her with had turned her muscles to liquid, leaving her trapped inside her own skin.
Move, she commanded her limbs. Fight him. Do something.
Nothing. Not even her fingers would twitch.
The salty tang of ocean air hit her nostrils as Kaelith carried her toward the rhythmic slap of waves against a dock. Through her peripheral vision, she caught glimpses of a sleek yacht bobbing in the harbor, its white hull gleaming under the afternoon sun like a predator’s tooth.
They’re taking me to Crimson Ridge.
The realization crashed over her with sickening certainty. They were taking her back to Veyrik’s territory, where he held every advantage, where Damon would be walking into a trap if he came for her—when he came for her.
Her heart hammered as Kaelith’s footsteps echoed hollow on the wooden dock. Would they kill her outright, or use her as bait to lure Damon into whatever twisted game Veyrik was playing? Neither scenario offered much comfort.
“Easy now,” Kaelith murmured, his voice carrying none of the warmth she’d grown accustomed to. “Almost there.”
The boat swayed beneath them as Kaelith stepped aboard, and Isla fought a wave of nausea as he made his way below deck.
Kaelith soon deposited her onto a small bed with surprising gentleness, arranging her limbs as if she were made of porcelain.
The mattress dipped under her weight, and she found herself staring at the ceiling while her body refused to obey even the simplest commands.
“Please... let me... go.” Each syllable took monumental effort, her tongue thick and uncooperative. “Kaelith... you can... still...”
Something flickered across his angular features—a crack in the cold mask he’d worn since grabbing her. For a heartbeat, she glimpsed the man who’d joked with her about dragon politics, who’d walked her to Damon’s beach house with easy humor.
“You don’t understand,” he said quietly, but his bright blue eyes couldn’t quite meet hers. “It’s too late for—”
“No.” The word came out stronger, fueled by desperation. “Remember... the good... about Damon. Your friendship...”
Kaelith’s jaw tightened, and she saw the war playing out across his face. Whatever Veyrik had promised him, whatever resentment had festered between him and Damon, it was battling against decades of genuine brotherhood.
Keep talking. Keep pushing.
But before she could force out another word, Kaelith turned and left, his footsteps fading into the mechanical hum of the boat’s engines.
Alone in the narrow cabin, Isla focused on the rhythm of her breathing, the only thing that still seemed to work properly. Then, cutting through the pharmaceutical fog, came a voice she knew and loved beyond measure.
Isla. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me where you are.
Her eyes widened. Damon?
She’d had no idea they could communicate this way—another crucial detail he’d failed to mention about the whole dragon shifter experience.
I’m here, she tried to push back, concentrating with everything she had. I’m alive. On a boat. Moving. I think... Crimson Ridge.
For a moment, nothing. Then warmth flooded the connection, not just his voice but his presence, his strength flowing into her like liquid sunlight.
I’m coming for you. Hold on.
The mate bond suddenly flared. Not fully restored, but flickering like a candle. And with it came something else—the drug’s grip on her body began to loosen, as if Damon’s will was somehow burning it out of her system.
Whatever you’re doing, she thought fiercely, keep doing it.
Sensation crept back into her fingertips first, then her toes. She could flex her hands now, curl her fingers into fists. The paralysis was retreating, inch by inch, as if Damon’s love was literally overriding the chemical restraints.
Heavy footsteps in the corridor made her freeze. She forced her body to go limp again just as Veyrik filled the doorway, his imposing frame blocking out the light.
“Just checking in, dear. Soon we’ll be back at my compound on Crimson Ridge,” he said, his ice-blue eyes raking over her prone form with interest. “Then I’ll decide what to do with you.”
Isla kept her breathing shallow and even, playing the part of the helpless captive while her skin crawled under his scrutiny.
“I thought about killing you,” he continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “But if Damon thinks you’re so special...” His lips curved in a smile that made her stomach turn. “Maybe I can find you useful too. I have several mates already. You could join my collection.”
Disgusting bastard. The words burned in her throat, but she forced herself to remain motionless as he stepped closer.
“Such a pretty little human,” he murmured, his finger trailing along her lips with possessive familiarity. “I wonder what makes you worth starting a war over.”
Every instinct screamed at her to bite down, to spit in his face, to show him exactly what this “pretty little human” was capable of. Instead, she lay still as stone, letting him believe she was completely at his mercy.
Finally, he stepped back.
“Just lay there and relax,” he said with mock kindness. “Soon you’ll be home. Your new home.”
The moment his footsteps faded, Isla tested her returning mobility. She could sit up now, though her movements were still sluggish. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, but they responded when she commanded them.
Escape. The thought was immediate and desperate. But how? Jump overboard and swim across miles of open ocean? Even if the drug wore off completely, she wasn’t strong enough to survive that kind of distance. She’d drown long before reaching shore.
The door opened again, and Kaelith’s familiar silhouette appeared. His eyes widened when he saw her sitting upright.
“I see the drug is wearing off,” he said, though his voice lacked its earlier coldness.
“Please don’t give me more,” she said quickly. “Please just let me go.”
Kaelith stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. In the small space, she could see the conflict written across his features more clearly.
“Why are you doing this?” she pressed, sensing an opening. “Wasn’t Damon your best friend? Weren’t you like brothers? Haven’t you been through everything together?”
Something crumpled in his expression, and for a moment he looked far younger than his apparent years.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Damon is like a brother. That’s what hurt the most.”
“Then why—”
“How could he just put all that responsibility on me?” The words burst out of him like a dam breaking. “A century, Isla. A hundred years of carrying his duties, managing his people, making decisions he should have been making while he hid away in that beach house feeling sorry for himself.”
Isla’s heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. “He was grieving—”
“We were all grieving!” Kaelith’s hands clenched into fists. “His parents weren’t the only ones who died that night. But the rest of us didn’t get the luxury of falling apart. Someone had to keep the clan together, and that someone was always me.”
“But he’s changing,” Isla said urgently. “You’ve seen it. He’s been trying to be more present, more engaged—”
“Only because you cracked his shell,” Kaelith said bitterly.
“Only then did he start acting like the man I remembered from before that terrible night. But it doesn’t undo a century of dealing with someone who was impossible to reach, someone who was rigid and detached and.
..” He trailed off, running a hand through his auburn hair. “It grew old.”
“So you decided to become Alpha yourself?”
“I was basically Alpha anyway,” he said with a hollow laugh. “For a hundred years, I’ve been the one making the real decisions, handling the day-to-day leadership. All I wanted was the recognition, the official title. But Damon would never step aside willingly.”
“So Veyrik offered to help?”
Kaelith’s expression darkened. “Veyrik has been whispering in my ear for years, telling me I deserved better than being Damon’s shadow. He made it sound so reasonable, so... inevitable.” He paused. “But when the ambush failed, I had to pivot.”
“So what was the path forward after the ambush?” Isla asked, though she dreaded the answer.
“Give you to Veyrik. Serve as his second-in-command. Watch Damon finally die.” His voice was flat. “It’s the only way now.”
“Why would you want to be Veyrik’s second instead of Damon’s?” Isla leaned forward, putting every ounce of conviction into her words. “Damon is honest, honorable. He’s changing, growing, becoming the leader his people need. Can’t you see that?”
“I do see it,” Kaelith said quietly. “But I’ve already pledged my allegiance to Veyrik. There’s no going back on that kind of oath.”
“There’s always a choice,” Isla said fiercely. “At least let me go. At least spare Damon. Don’t let Veyrik destroy everything.”
Kaelith’s face was a mask of anguish, and she could see him wavering, the bonds of old friendship pulling against whatever hold Veyrik had over him.
Then a sound cut through the air that made them both freeze—a roar that shook the very foundations of the boat, deep and primal and filled with deadly promise.
Isla’s heart leaped.
Damon.
Kaelith gripped Isla’s arm as he hauled her up from the cabin, his fingers digging into her flesh with surprising force.
The drug’s effects had mostly worn off, but her legs still felt unsteady as he guided her through the narrow corridor toward the main deck.
Each step felt like walking toward her execution.
This is it, she thought, her heart hammering. This is where I become the pawn. Where I watch Damon die trying to save me.