Page 66 of Fated By Fire
“What is it now?” I ask, irritation coloring my tone. But the moment I see the screen, my blood runs cold.
A video plays—a montage of shaky footage, shadows that could be wings flickering against night skies, snippets ofconversations taken out of context, and lingering shots of Craven Industries’ headquarters. Overlaid is a voice, distorted to conceal the speaker’s identity.
“The dragons are among us,” it declares ominously. “And they’re hiding in plain sight. Our source has not only seen them but been carried by one to its mountain lair.”
Jesus. For fuck’s sake!
At the bottom corner, the username flashes: @MaraLives, accompanied by the hashtag #DragonConspiracy.
“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” I say, my eyes snapping up to meet Dorian’s.
“It’s gone viral, Caleb,” he replies grimly. “Millions of views in the past few hours. #DragonConspiracy is trending worldwide.”
I watch the video again, this time picking up on the clever editing—the way she hints at our existence without outright proof, enough to sow seeds of doubt and curiosity. It’s designed to draw people in, to make them question. To expose us.
“Elena must have told her,” I say, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Dorian nods. “Our confidentiality protocols are shot. And that’s not all.” He swipes to another screen showing a flurry of security alerts. “We’ve picked up increased chatter about Craven Industries on various forums and social media platforms. People are digging, Caleb.”
I clench my fists, trying to rein in my temper. “Is that all?”
As if that’s not enough.
“No.” He hesitates. “There have been sightings of suspicious figures near the building. Our surveillance caught them loitering around, but we haven’t been able to identify them yet.”
I take the phone from him, scrolling through the grainy images of men in dark clothing, faces obscured, hovering near our entrances.
“And to make matters worse,” Dorian adds. “Malakai’s access codes were used again, despite being revoked.”
I slam the phone down on the desk. “That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not,” he replies tightly. “He’s bypassing our security somehow. We have a mole, or he’s got inside help.”
Fuck!
Between the Syndicate’s moves, Malakai’s betrayal, and now this public exposure, we’re under siege from all sides.
“This is getting out of hand,” Dorian says. There’s a smear of pink lipstick on his collar that distracts me for a moment. Asshole can’t keep his dick in his pants, even at a time like this. “We need to control the narrative before it spirals.”
I nod, but my mind is elsewhere, torn between duty and emotion. Elena. Did she really tell Mara everything? After all my warnings, after everything we’ve been through?
“Hey,” Dorian’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You with me?”
“Yeah,” I say, though it’s a lie. My thoughts are a tangled mess. The mate bond—if that’s what it is—is making it hard to think clearly, clouding my judgment. I can feel her emotions—confusion, fear, even a hint of betrayal. Or maybe that’s just my projection.
“There’s something else,” he says cautiously. “We received a message. Anonymous, but it’s got the Syndicate’s fingerprints all over it.”
He pulls up an email on his phone and hands it to me.
“‘Enjoying your newfound fame?’” I read aloud. “‘It’d be a shame if more secrets came to light. The Heartstone isn’t safe, and neither is she. You can’t protect her forever.’”
My grip tightens on the phone. The threat is clear. They know about Elena, about her connection to the Heartstone.
“They’re taunting us,” Dorian says.
“Someone’s feeding them information,” I say, the implication hanging heavy between us. Not all of our people are loyal.
“Caleb, we need to act. Now.”
