Medical team. Tactical advisors. And Viktor, as cool and implacable as ever. I draw in a steadying breath, knowing that the next few days are probably going to be as harrowing as the last ones.
“Good luck, Kenan,” Dorian mutters as we prepare to disembark. “You’re going to need it.”
I descend the stairs behind the Cravens. Across the tarmac, Ember has already exited with Hargen, immediately flanked by her mother. Our eyes meet, and something pulses between us.
Her expression: uncertain, hopeful, afraid.
Mine: carefully neutral, though my hands curl into fists at my sides.
Every instinct screams to go to her. Cross the tarmac. Pull her against my chest. Tell Vanya and everyone else watching that Ember’s mine now, and they’ll have to deal with it. The dragon part of me doesn’t care about protocols or clan politics or the three-century age gap.
But the human part—the part that’s survived by being careful, by following rules—keeps me rooted in place.
That, and the knowledge that whatever I might feel, whatever connection sparked between us, could still be nothing more than survival instinct and stress response. The rational part of me whispers that what happens in the mountains, in life-or-death situations, doesn’t always translate to reality.
Viktor approaches. “Kenan. Debrief in twenty. Full medical first.”
I’ve already been patched up by the team back at Bucharest, but I nod, following the medics toward the main building. I catch one last glimpse of Ember being guided in a different direction, Vanya’s hand firm on her shoulder, steering her toward private quarters.
The distance between us mirrors the emotional uncertainty. I force myself not to look back.
But I feel her absence like a gaping wound, like something vital has been torn from me. The dragon inside roars in protest, demanding I return to her side. Three days of being acutely focused on her… and now, nothing. The separation feels unnatural, wrong in a way I can’t articulate.
I straighten my shoulders and keep walking. Whatever happens next—with Vanya, with the clan, with Ember herself—I’ll face it. Because the alternative—never feeling that connection again—isn’t something I can contemplate.
Not when I’ve finally found what three centuries of living couldn’t give me.
Not when I’ve finally found her.
Chapter 25
Ember
I sit perfectly still as Viktor takes his place at the head of the conference table. The sleek room with its digital displays and soundproofed walls feels both safe and stifling. Hargen sits to my right, a solid presence that anchors me. My mother settles to my left, her back straight as a blade. I can feel the tension radiating off her, barely contained.
I’m caught between them, protected and caged at once.
Every pair of eyes in the room shifts to me, then away. Some hold concern, others curiosity, a few something close to respect. The past few days have transformed me from “Vanya’s daughter” to someone worth watching. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.
I avoid looking directly across the table, where Luke sits. Even without meeting his gaze, my skin prickles with awareness of him. After what happened between us in that clearing—the heat of his mouth against mine, the weight of his body over me—I don’t trust myself to maintain the professional mask this meeting requires.
Viktor’s voice breaks the silence. “How are you feeling, Ember?”
“I’m okay.” I’m surprised at how strong my voice sounds. My body aches from the mission, but I won’t let them see that. “Really.”
He nods, clearly not believing me. “We understand you gathered intelligence during your… unsanctioned infiltration of the Syndicate facility.”
There it is, that careful neutrality in his tone. But I catch the edge underneath. Unsanctioned is code for reckless, impulsive, dangerous.
Next to me, my mother goes rigid. Her fingers twitch almost imperceptibly on the polished table.
I straighten my spine, refusing to shrink under their collective scrutiny.
“Yes, sir. I picked up details of their operational plans.”
“And you think you can remember everything?” He doesn’t look convinced.
“I spent years doing nothing but studying,” I tell him. “I know how to retain facts and details.”
