The way he said it—the subtle emphasis on ‘important’—sent another wave of unease through Isla. But looking at their young, hopeful faces, she wondered if she was simply being paranoid. After everything that had happened, maybe her nerves were just frayed.
The park soon stretched before them, dappled with sunlight filtering through the palm fronds, but the promised surprise was nowhere to be seen. Isla’s unease crystallized into something sharper as she scanned the empty green space, her fingers tightening instinctively around Damon’s hand.
“Where exactly is this surprise?” Damon’s voice carried that subtle edge of authority, his green eyes moving methodically across the seemingly deserted area.
Jaxon and Kael exchanged a look that made Isla’s stomach drop. Gone was their eager enthusiasm, replaced by something cold and calculated that transformed their young faces into masks she didn’t recognize.
“Oh, there’s definitely going to be a surprise,” Jaxon said, his tone shifting to something that made ice crawl up Isla’s spine. A gleam entered his eyes—sharp and predatory, nothing like the respectful clan member from moments before. “Just not the kind you’re expecting.”
Damon went absolutely still beside her, every muscle in his powerful frame coiling with deadly tension. The mate bond pulsed with his sudden alertness.
“You’re a weak and terrible leader,” Kael continued, his words dripping with venom that seemed impossible from someone so young. “Veyrik would be a much better fit for this territory. Which, lucky for us, will be possible very soon, when you and your human mate are dead.”
Dead?
TWENTY-SIX
ISLA
The word echoed in Isla’s mind as her heart slammed against her ribs. This was it—the very scenario Damon had been terrified of, the reason he’d tried to push her away. She was the weakness, the vulnerability that could be exploited.
Movement at the edge of the park caught her attention, and her blood turned to ice. Kalis and Sylara emerged from behind a cluster of trees, their predatory smiles promising violence. The same dragons who had attacked her and Evelina at Crimson Ridge, somehow here on supposedly secure Everflame Isle.
“How—” Damon’s voice cut off as understanding dawned in his eyes. The lockdown, the increased patrols, all of it meaningless when the threat came from within. “Traitors,” he said, the single word carrying the weight of a death sentence.
The air around them began to shimmer with heat as four bodies started to shift. Bones cracked and reformed, skin stretched and hardened into scales. Jaxon’s human form dissolved into a bronze-scaled dragon, smaller than Damon but still massive and deadly. Kael transformed into a creature of deep green scales that gleamed like emeralds. Kalis becamethe golden beast she remembered from Crimson Ridge, while Sylara’s red scales caught the sunlight like fresh blood.
Four dragons.
Four massive, fire-breathing predators, and Damon was only one man. Even an Alpha, even the most powerful dragon she’d ever seen, couldn’t fight those odds alone and protect her at the same time.
Terror crashed over her in waves as she realized the impossible position they were in. She couldn’t shift, couldn’t breathe fire, couldn’t do anything except stand there like the fragile human liability she was. Every fear Damon had voiced about her being a target crystallized into this moment of absolute helplessness.
Run.
The thought slammed into her consciousness with brutal clarity. She had to get help. She couldn’t protect him, but she could bring those who could.
“I have to—” she started to say, but Damon was already shifting, his human form exploding into the magnificent obsidian dragon she’d come to know. His molten green eyes met hers for one desperate second, and through the mate bond she felt his anguish at being unable to keep her safe, his fury at the betrayal, and his determination to protect her even if it cost him everything.
Isla turned and ran.
Her sandals slapped against the stone path as she sprinted toward the café, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst. Behind her, the sound of battle erupted—roars that shook the ground, the thunderous crash of massive bodies colliding, and the whoosh of flames that heated the air even at a distance.
She soon burst through the café doors, gasping. “Help! Damon’s being attacked by four dragons in the park!”
The waitress—Jessica, she remembered—dropped her coffee pot with a crash. “Four? Are you certain?”
“Yes! Please, we need Kaelith, we need anyone who can fight!”
Jessica’s hands were already moving, grabbing her phone and dialing with efficiency. “Kaelith? Emergency at the park. Four dragons attacking the Alpha.” She paused, listening. “Yes, she’s here. I’m sending backup now.”
Two burly men emerged from the kitchen, their faces grim with understanding. Without a word, they headed for the door, and Isla followed, her legs trembling but carrying her forward.
The park was a war zone. Damon’s black dragon form moved with deadly grace, but he was bleeding from multiple wounds. He’d managed to injure the two younger traitors—Jaxon lay motionless while Kael limped heavily—but Kalis and Sylara had him cornered. Deep gashes marked his ribs and shoulder, dark blood staining his magnificent scales.
The two cooks shifted mid-run, their own dragon forms joining the fray. But even as they engaged Kalis and Sylara, Isla watched in horror as Damon faltered, his massive form swaying before crashing to the ground.
No.
