I feel the wind of it, the downdraft from wings that span the road. Claws extend. Jaws open. It comes straight for us.
Rafael turns his head.
The sound that comes from his chest is a single note; high, pure, wrong. It hits the dragon in the open mouth. The body convulses mid-air. The shift reverses…not gradually, not controlled. Scales retract in a rush that tears skin open. Bones shorten with audible cracks. The human form reasserts itself in a violent, scrambled collapse, and the man who hits the road is naked, bleeding from every pore, and screaming.
He doesn’t stop screaming.
The operatives near the SUVs back up. One turns away. His hands are shaking. They’ve seen dragons die. They haven’t seen this.
Creed stares at the man on the asphalt. Then, at the grounded dragon. Then, at the first one, crumpled against the bumper. Then at Rafael.
He wasn’t expecting this.
“Your organization spent years creating a weapon,” I say. “You’re looking at it.”
“You’re next,” says Rafael. His hand lifts.
Creed’s mouth is open. “Fall back,” he barks over his shoulder. “All units. Recover the wounded and fall back.”
His operatives move fast. They drag the screaming man toward an SUV. The first dragon stumbles to its feet and retreats without being told.
Dr. Fell doesn’t retreat.
“Faith.” Creed’s voice hardens. “We’re withdrawing.”
She steps past him like he hasn’t spoken.
Through the headlight wash. Past the operatives scrambling for their vehicles. Past the blood and the shattered asphalt and the men who are still screaming. She walks toward Rafael with her hands clasped behind her back and her chin lifted. She just watched him destroy her team. She’s walking toward him like she’s walking into her own lab.
“There you are,” she says. Calm. Pleasant. The voice from the intercom. The observation room. A thousand facility mornings. “You never needed handlers or operatives or containment. You just needed someone who understands what you are.”
Rafael goes rigid.
His hand drops from my wrist. The force running through the road falters. His breathing changes. Fast. Shallow. His jaw thickens. His hands curl. Claws prick through and retract.
“Faith.” Creed, from beside the SUV. “Get in the vehicle. Now.”
She ignores him.
She walks closer. Her focus is entirely on Rafael. He takes a step back. Then another.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge I’m standing three feet away. I’m right there, and she doesn’t care. She’s found her lost toy. The rest of the world doesn’t exist.
“You’ve been so brave,” she says. Soft. Almost affectionate. “Coming all this way. Fighting so hard. But you’re tired, aren’t you? You’ve been tired for a long time.”
Rafael takes another step back.
His claws are halfway out. His eyes are wild. The wolf is right there, but the man is still visible underneath. And the man is terrified. Not of her body. Of her voice. The way it finds the place inside him that five years of pain carved open.
“You don’t need to fight anymore,” she says. Another step toward him. “You can rest. Come back with me. Just like before…quiet, orderly, routine. I’ll take care of everything.”
“No.” Ragged. Torn out of him. “No, no, no—”
“Get away from my mate,” I snarl.
“Mate?” She snorts. Doesn’t glance at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t know how to bond. The closest thing he’ll ever have to a mate is me.” Her eyes move over Rafael. “Isn’t that right, 3-0-6-7-0?”
She reaches for him. Fingers stretching toward his face. She doesn’t see me. Her back is fully turned. Her shoulders are relaxed. Her attention is locked on Rafael. I am furniture. I am scenery. I am nothing.
