“One day he found a dragon… small, scared, barely bigger than a horse. The villagers wanted to kill it. They said it was dangerous, that it would grow up to burn their homes. But the knight looked at the dragon and saw something else. He saw a creature that was alone. Hurt. Trying to survive the same way he had.”
Ivan’s hand moves slowly up and down my back—long, soothing strokes.
“So the knight took the dragon away from the village. He built a cave high in the mountains where no one could find them. Every day he taught the dragon how to fly, how to hunt, how to hide.And every night he sat by the fire and told the dragon stories so it wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.”
My breathing slows. My eyelids grow heavy.
“The villagers never stopped looking,” Ivan continues softly. “But the knight never let them near. He stood between the dragon and every arrow, every spear, every torch. Because some things are worth protecting. Even when the whole world says they’re monsters.”
I feel myself drifting… warm, safe, held.
I want to hear the rest of the story but each passing moment it’s getting harder to stay awake. There’s something so soothing about Ivan’s voice, like I’ve known him my whole life.
“The dragon grew,” Ivan murmurs, voice fading to a whisper. “But it never forgot the knight who saved it. And the knight… he never forgot that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is choose mercy over a clean kill, and that’s when?—”
I’m asleep before he finishes the sentence.
Morning light filters through the lace curtains in pale, dusty shafts.
I wake slowly, stretching under the quilt, reaching automatically for Ivan.
My hand finds empty sheets.
Cold sheets.
“Huh,” I exclaim.
I sit up fast.
The room is quiet. Too quiet.
Ivan’s boots are gone from beside the dresser. His jacket is missing from the chair back. The small duffel he keeps his weapons in is still there, by the bedside table.
His burner phone sits in plain sight though. The screen dark. But it’s on. Charging cable plugged in.
“No… don’t do it,” I whisper. “You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t…”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
I reach for it before I can talk myself out of it.
The lock screen is off—careless, or deliberate, or maybe just a defect on the cheap burner. I swipe. A new message notification glows at the top.
VICTOR: It’s time. Take care of business. ASAP and confirm.
So few words. But words that turn my blood to ice.
I knowexactlywhat they mean.
I know what “take care of business” means when it comes from Viktor to Ivan.
I drop the phone like it’s burning.
Panic floods me—sharp, suffocating.
Heknew.
He’s known all along.
