“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you took advantage. But Vanya…” He doesn’t finish.
I nod once. “I know.”
Viktor’s office is exactly what you’d expect from Aurora’s director: large, professional, tactical displays covering the walls. Viktor himself stands by the window, back turned, giving us space.
Vanya sits in one of the leather chairs, wintry eyes locked on the door. Waiting. The temperature in the room drops noticeably as I enter, the air around her crackling with barely suppressed frost. Dragon power, leashed but present.
I close the door behind me, standing at attention, an old military habit surfacing under pressure. My scales itch beneath my skin, the dragon inside me responding instinctively to the challenge in her posture.
Vanya doesn’t stand. Just studies me with an expression that could freeze flame. The scent of her fury fills the room, cold and sharp as steel.
“Luke. Thank you for coming.” Viktor turns from the window, voice carefully neutral. “Lady Arrowvane has some concerns about the Carpathian mission. Specifically, about her daughter’s… care.”
Vanya’s controlled fury fills the room. She doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. I didn’t expect her to.
“Commander Kenan. You were assigned to protect my daughter during a routine containment operation.” She pauses, letting each word sink in. “Instead, the helicopter crashed. Mara Jones is dead. And my daughter was captured by the Syndicate, her hybrid nature exposed to the very people I’ve spent twenty-one years hiding her from.”
The accusations land with precision. Heat flares beneath my sternum, dragonfire responding to the threat in her tone. I force it down, keep my expression neutral.
“Yes, ma’am.” My voice carries the deference reserved for a dragon elder.
“During that time, you spent three days alone in hostile territory before extraction.”
“That’s correct.”
Vanya stands. Slow, deliberate. She crosses to stand directly in front of me, close enough that I can see the fury held in check beneath her icy control.
“And during those three days… did you behave appropriately with my daughter?”
The silence hangs between us. Her scent changes; there’s something predatory now, something hunting for weakness.
I meet her eyes. “I kept her alive.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her voice drops, more dangerous now. “Hargen walked in on you yesterday. In your quarters. With Ember.” She pauses. “In a… compromising position.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t flinch. Heat crawls up my neck as I remember Hargen’s face when he found us, Ember straddlingmy lap, my hands under her shirt, her mouth on my neck. The shock in his eyes, the quick retreat, the slammed door.
“So, I’ll ask again. Did you behave appropriately?”
“Your daughter made her own choices,” I say carefully.
Vanya’s eyes flash, blue ice cracking with fury. “She’s twenty-one years old. She doesn’t have the experience to—”
“She has more experience than you’re giving her credit for,” I interrupt, voice sharper than I’d planned.
“Don’t youdarelecture me about my own daughter.” She steps closer, and I feel the air around us drop another ten degrees. “You’re over three hundred years old, Commander. She’s barely lived a fraction of that.”
She delivers her next points with cold precision, dismantling me piece by piece.
“You were her superior officer on that mission. She trusted you to keep her safe, not seduce her.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
She cuts me off. “Wasn’t it? You were the experienced operative; she was the trainee. The power dynamic alone makes this inappropriate.”
I start to speak, but she continues, relentless. “Three hundred years, Luke. You’ve lived through empires. She’s barely lived through college.”
“Dragons measure time differently—”
