“My quarters. Alone.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“No.”
The single word condemns me.
My dragon roars in protest inside my head. Not me. Didn’t do this. Frame. Trap. Someone setting me up. But I can’t say that without sounding desperate.
Tabitha stands abruptly. Her face is pale. Eyes red. “He’s Syndicate. We barely know him. We brought a war criminal inside our walls, and now Samien is dead.”
“Tabitha—” Vanya starts.
“No.” Tabitha’s voice breaks with grief and fury. “Dragon evidence everywhere. No alibi. The defector we’ve known for what—six days? And you’re going to pretend this is a coincidence?”
My dragon is fighting me for control. Demanding I shift. Demanding I prove innocence through force. Fire burns so hot beneath my skin, I’m surprised they can’t see it.
“I didn’t kill him,” I say. Voice rough. Strained. “I understand why you suspect me. But I didn’t do this.”
“Then who did?” Tabitha demands. “Who else—” She stops. Looks at me with pure hatred. “You killed him. Probably Syndicate orders. Probably never actually defected. This was all—”
“Enough.” Viktor’s voice stops her short. “We’ll investigate properly. Secure the suspect. Examine evidence. Then decide.” He looks at me. Studies my eyes—they’re silver, betraying dragon presence I can’t suppress. “Allon. You understand this is protocol.”
“I understand.”
What else can I say? My dragon is roaring innocence, but my body is betraying me. Eyes shifted. Heat radiating. Looking exactly like someone struggling to control his dragon form after committing violence.
Caleb shifts uncomfortably. “If the evidence confirms—”
“When we have conclusive findings,” Viktor corrects. “Not before.”
But I see it in their faces. The conclusion already drawn. Dragon evidence. No alibi. Defector they barely know. The obvious answer.
Guards enter. Two of them. Armed.
“Suppression cuffs,” Viktor orders. “Detention level three.”
Maximum security. Back where I started before earning trust that lasted exactly two days.
The guards approach. One produces heavy suppression cuffs. The kind that crush fire completely instead of just dampening it.
I offer my wrists. Don’t resist. Fighting would confirm their suspicions.
The cuffs lock. My dragon recoils as suppression intensifies. Not just dampening anymore—smothering.
The weight crushes down, oppressive and final.
“This way,” the lead guard says.
I turn to follow. Catch Vanya’s expression. She’s watching me with something that might be doubt. Not about my guilt; doubt about the obvious answer. She knows frames. Knows Syndicate tactics.
But she doesn’t speak.
No one defends me. No one questions the evidence. No one suggests alternatives.
I’m led from the room, down corridors I’ve started to learn. Past operatives who stop and stare. News travels fast. Everyone knows there’s been murder. And now I’m being detained.
Their faces show everything. Suspicion. Certainty. Disgust.
