One thought surfaces through the turmoil:Will Nadia believe I didn’t do this?
My dragon is desperate. Needing her to know the truth. Needing her to believe me, even though she pushed me away. Even though she said she doesn’t need me.
Mate. Bond. Recognition that won’t die, no matter how much she denies it.
I stop the thoughts. Can’t afford hope. She made her choice. This isn’t her problem.
We reach detention level three. Same cell as before. 3-7. Small concrete box.
The guards remove my cuffs long enough to secure me to wall restraints. Then reattach the suppression cuffs before releasing the wall chains.
High-security protocol. Can’t shift. Can’t use fire. Movement limited.
“Someone will attend to your needs in due course,” the lead guard says. Almost apologetic.
I don’t respond. They leave. The door closes. Multiple locks engage.
Then: nothing.
I sink onto the concrete sleeping platform. My dragon is still raging. Furious at the false accusation. Furious at being caged. Furious that I can’t defend myself or prove innocence or reach the one person my dragon insists would believe me.
Two days ago, the Council granted sanctuary. Removed restrictions. Gave me trust. Now I’m back in maximum security, accused of murder with dragon evidence pointing directly at me.
Framed.
Obviously framed. Someone killed Samien Khalef and left dragon markers specifically to implicate me. Someone with access to Aurora’s facility and knowledge of dragon physiology.
But saying that sounds desperate. Sounds like every guilty person who claims they were set up.
So I sit in the darkness and process what just happened.
All that progress erased. All that trust gone. All those plans for the raid—useless now. They’ll execute the mission without me or postpone it entirely while they investigate.
And twenty-three victims will stay trapped in Vex’s facility, bleeding and broken, while Aurora determines my guilt.
My dragon keeps pushing to break free. Showing me images I don’t want. Her face. Her eyes. The vulnerability I saw for half a second in the briefing room before I looked away.
Before I cut her off because looking at her meant losing composure I couldn’t afford to lose.
Maybe she’ll believe I’m guilty. Maybe she’ll look at me with the same disgust Tabitha showed. Maybe she’ll be relieved she pushed me away before this happened.
Or maybe… she’ll know the truth. Maybe her wolf will recognize my innocence even when evidence says otherwise. Maybe she’ll—
I cut the thought off. Can’t afford hope that will destroy me when it proves false.
The cell is cold. The suppression field hums, constant and crushing.
I close my eyes. Lean my head back against the wall.
I came to Aurora for sanctuary. Got it briefly. Lost it violently.
I came with intelligence that would save lives. That still matters. They’ll use it eventually.
I came wanting redemption that will never come now.
And somewhere along the line, I started wanting something else entirely.
Her.
