Page 52 of Fated By Fire
“Shit.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “Holy shit. I fucked a dragon.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I cock my head. “Was it?” It’s not the most appropriate time to raise the topic, but I find myself wondering.
“No… I…” She shakes her head. “I can’t think about that right now.”
I guess she’s right, so I say nothing.
She’s quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently tracing the outline of her locket. Finally, she looks up at me, her expression hard. “Tell me everything. No more omissions. No more half-truths. I want to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”
I study her face, seeing the determination there despite her fear. She’s stronger than I gave her credit for. Or maybe just more stubborn.
“Alright,” I say, settling into a chair across from the bed. “But I warn you—once you know the truth, there’s no going back.”
She lifts her chin, defiant even now. “I’m already in too deep to go back. So start talking.”
I take a deep breath, preparing to unravel centuries of secrets. “Dragons have existed since before human civilization,” I begin, watching Elena’s face carefully. She’s still tense, but her natural curiosity seems to be winning out over her fear. “We were here when the first humans learned to make fire—ironically, they learned it from us.”
“From you?” She draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “How old are you, exactly?”
“I’m relatively young for a dragon. Only three hundred and twelve.”
She makes a choking sound. “Only three hundred—? Jesus Christ.”
“My father lived to be nearly a thousand before…” I trail off, the memory still raw. “We’re essentially immortal, barring violence or illness. It’s one of the reasons we’ve managed to accumulate so much wealth over the centuries.”
“Is that why you’re all rich?” Her eyes narrow. “The Forbes 500 is just a dragon’s who’s who?”
I can’t help but smile. “Not all of them. But more than you’d think. We’re collectors by nature—gold, jewels, art. In the modern era, that translated to corporations, real estate, investments.”
“Dragon hoards,” she says slowly. “Like in the stories.”
“Exactly. Though these days, we prefer diversified portfolios to caves full of gold.”
She snorts, and for a moment, I see a flash of her usual spirit.
“So what happened? Why hide? I mean, you’re literally dragons. Couldn’t you just…” She waves her hand vaguely.
“Burn everything to the ground?” I finish dryly. “We tried that approach. It didn’t end well. As human weapons evolved—especially after the Industrial Revolution—we realized we needed to adapt or face extinction.”
“But surely nothing could hurt…?” She gestures at me, presumably referring to my dragon form.
“You’d be surprised. A medieval arrow might bounce off our scales, but modern artillery? Anti-aircraft weapons? Nuclear capabilities? We may be powerful, but we’re not invincible.”
Elena’s quiet for a moment, processing. “So you went corporate instead.”
“It was that or die out. We integrated into human society, used our accumulated wealth and knowledge to build legitimate enterprises. Some of us adapted better than others.” I think of Malakai, of the Circle of Fire, of all those who yearn for the old ways.
“The ones who chose tradition over adaptation paid for it with their lives.” My voice grows quieter as I continue, “The Syndicate is made up of those who lost everything—their clans, their territories, their birthrights. And now they want revenge.”
Elena’s eyes widen. “The Syndicate?”
“That’s who hired you. Through Blackthorn.” I’ve just put the pieces together myself, but it makes absolute sense. And it explains why we were able to take over NyxCorp so easily. Amalgamating our companies would have given the Syndicate a way in to Craven with enough layers between us to never be detected.
Slimy fuckers.
I continue, “They’ve been trying to infiltrate Craven Industries for years. And now, with you…”
“With me what?” She leans forward, her eyes intense. “What makes me so special?”
