We steal a few minutes behind a stack of crates near the hangar. The scent of jet fuel and scorched metal lingers in the air, but Liv smells like heat and something wholly her own—smoke from a wildfire I never want to put out.
Her body presses into mine with fierce, silent urgency that scorches straight through skin and bone. She moves like she’s reclaiming breath, her mouth brushing mine with a slow, smoldering intensity that leaves me wrecked and wanting. Her lips part—soft, deliberate, tasting of danger and need—and the kiss deepens, winding tension through every nerve in my body.
It’s not rushed. It’s not soft. It’s a claiming, molten and personal. Her hand knots in my collar, pulling me down as I slide my hands lower, locking around her hips like I could weld us together right here, right now. Her thigh presses between mine, and for a breathless second, there’s no world beyond herheat, her mouth, the perfect pressure that makes every part of me burn for more.
When she pulls back, her breath comes uneven. My heart hammers, synced to the fierce rhythm where our bodies connect. I rest my forehead against hers, anchoring us in the silence that follows.
This isn’t just lust. It’s a vow. If we go down in flames, we go together.
She rolls her eyes, but her fingers tighten in my collar. "Just don’t die on me, Kade."
From across the tarmac, Malek calls out, "If you two are done dry-humping, some of us still have blood pressure to manage."
Rafe snorts. "Speak for yourself, grandpa. Let 'em burn it off now—saves us all from choking on the tension later."
He’s still laughing when Vale and Draven approach in full tac gear. Vale carries a satchel like it’s made of glass.
Dax waits near the hangar, arms crossed, wind tugging at his jacket. He doesn’t bother with greetings. His stare is all business. “Briefing room. Now.”
We head inside.
A map’s already spread across the table. Dax gestures to it. "Ash Vault was first tagged two decades ago, when a seismic anomaly exposed an old-world cache lined with scorched obsidian and remnants of pre-modern alloys. At first, we thought it was a geological fluke—until three more vaults turned up, each marked with dragon-forged sigils older than any we’ve dated. It was classified after the Flagstaff breach."
He lifts a tablet. The air tightens.
"Now it's not theory anymore. Someone knows where the bones are buried—and they’re digging with purpose."
"Three relic thefts last week," he adds, flipping the tablet to show a grainy image of a busted vault door, metal warped andblackened. "The hit sites line up with ancient hoards. Real ones—not legend. Ash Vault is a go."
My jaw sets. "You think they know what they’re taking?"
"They’re not amateurs," Dax confirms. "Someone’s targeting dormant dragon caches with intent."
Ash Vault isn’t a recovery op. It’s a containment directive wrapped in a warning. A line drawn in the ash that says: whatever happened before can’t be allowed to happen again.
The room falls quiet. Vale shoots a look at Draven. Rafe, for once, says nothing—his hand tightening around his gear strap. The weight of it hits all of us. This isn’t cleanup. It’s the first shot of a war.
Dax swipes again. The next image punches breath from my lungs—a partially melted carving I haven’t seen in centuries. The curl of a draconic crest, scorched into obsidian.
"This vault," he says, "was last touched by flame three hundred years ago. Kade, you recognize it?"
I nod slowly. "It was mine—before I burned it to the ground."
Dax’s eyes narrow, sharp and assessing. "Anything left behind worth going back for?"
"Maybe. A shard of Pyresteel. One of the old sigil markers." I exhale hard. "If they’ve got their hands on that... it’s worse than we thought."
Rafe claps a hand on my shoulder, jarring me back from the edge of that memory. "Still with us, Kade? Looked like you were zoning out. Starting to wonder if you’d gone soft."
I flash a grin. "Soft’s not exactly the word Liv used last night."
He groans. "Gods, spare me. Every time I ask a question, I regret it immediately."
Vale cuts in, voice sharp. “The Flagstaff scans were legit. If we’re right, the metal trace in that core chamber matches remnants of Ignis’ old forge tech…”
Liz looks at him, her expression perplexed. “Forge tech?”
“Experimental machinery they used to extract, contain, and weaponize dragon essence. We thought it had been destroyed.”
