Page 39 of Dark Dragon’s Wolf

Flynn just shook his head. “Yeah, sure. And where do I send the cleaning bill after your head explodes?”

Tristan growled at him. “Shut the fuck up. I’m going, and nobody’s talking me out of it, so quit wasting time.”

Flynn shrugged and got into position, standing behind Kira with his hands on her shoulders. Light gleamed off the thick engraved gold cuff bracelets he wore on both wrists.

Even Tristan, the non-dragon, could feel the Draken magic in them. They’d been made for the Lion Guard of Al-Maddeiri—the personal guards of the royal house.

Flynn was the only surviving member.

Hopefully, having him there would ground them into this reality and this place, making sure they could find their way back.

Tristan was pretty sure that if they couldn’t, Flynn would drag them back by sheer force of will. When they were all broken and crazy, Flynn had held them together with that same indomitable will. He was the reason they were still alive today, every last one of them.

He wouldn’t let them down, whether he thought this was a good idea or not.

Mayah took Tristan’s hand, and he instantly felt their connection. He hoped she couldn’t feel the sadness and regret that had been growing in him all afternoon.

Or the fear. Not fear of what might happen to him. Fear that it would happen before they could carry out this mission. Before he could help free her from the ghosts that had haunted her for so long.

Because Flynn was right. The state his brain was in, he was starting to think he might not last much longer.

A wave of love came through their connection and washed over him, easing some of his tension. Despite his mood, he felt a small smile come to his face. He looked over at Mayah, and she smiled back.

I love you, she whispered in his mind.

I love you too, Princess, he said. More than you’ll ever know.

Kira took each of their free hands, making a circle.

“Ready, little sister,” she said. “Lead us there.”

Mayah closed her eyes, and they went searching for her ghosts.

For a long minute, there was nothing. Just blackness, and the faint pressure of Mayah’s and Kira’s hands on his.

And then, with a whoosh, they were there in the white hallway that Mayah had described to him so many times.

It was fuzzy and misty, and the figures in the cells were blurred, some of them superimposed on each other.

He heard Kira’s voice in his mind—so strange to hear anyone but Mayah or her dragon.

We’re not really there yet, she said. You’re seeing them at different points in time.

Tristan didn’t understand how she could even do that.

I think some of them are memories and projections, Kira went on. Try to focus on now. Today.

Gradually, the mist cleared, and the scene came into focus around them. They were standing in the corridor lined with cells.

Tristan’s chest got tight, and he couldn’t breathe.

It was a lab. It was almost an exact duplicate of the place he’d been kept after Beckenham got him. The hallway lined with cells, everything covered in white subway tile, with drains in the floor for easy cleanup.

The cells weren’t fronted with glass, but shifter-proof plexiglass. In the back right corner of each cell was a tiny bathroom, with walls that didn’t go all the way to the ceiling, and an opening instead of a door so you couldn’t do anything in there the guards couldn’t see.

Just in front of the bathroom was the retractable door for each cell, with a smaller opening in it like an electronic cat-flap, where they put the food through.

It took him a second to get his breath back, and focus on the people.