But I kept going.
I thought about Dante. About the way he’d looked at me in my kitchen that morning, sleep-soft and trusting. About his laugh when I’d burned breakfast. The determination in his eyes when he’d kissed me despite all the reasons he shouldn’t.
About the way he’d saidI love youwith his face bruised and bleeding.
I couldn’t die here. Couldn’t leave him alone with these monsters.
I drew on reserves I didn’t know I had, pulling power from depths I’d never accessed before. My dragon responded with one final surge, and I felt the transformation accelerate.
The song shifted one final time, and I heard it clearly now—a pure, crystalline frequency that resonated through my failing senses.
Failing because the radiation had done too much damage. My nervous system was shutting down, my dragon retreating so deep I could barely sense it, my body finally giving up the fight to survive in this poisoned chamber.
My legs gave out. I collapsed beside the cylinders, my hands—what was left of them—sliding away from the metal surface. Through the leaded glass, I could see people moving. Shouting. But I couldn’t hear them anymore.
Dante’s face swam in my vision. Beautiful, bruised, begging me not to do this.
I’m sorry, I tried to say, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words.
The darkness was closing in now, and I didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore. My last conscious thought was that at least I’d bought him time. The transformation had worked, and I prayed it had bought Dante the time he needed. Maybe that would be enough. I hoped Ignatius would get there before Odin realized I was dead and couldn’t do this a second time.
Maybe Dante would forgive me for leaving him.
Chapter twenty-two
Own goal - When a team accidentally causes the puck to enter its own net, resulting in a goal for the opposing team.
Dante
I couldn’t think. My mind seemed to freeze when the footsteps died away and the silence pressed in. I only warranted one guard—one guard because I wasn’t a threat, just some kid who learned to play a stupid game instead of firing a gun, or even learning how to use a knife.
What use was I to Theron?
And then everything went to hell.
The building shuddered with a massive explosion—a concussive blast that cracked concrete walls. Lights flickered and died, plunging us into darkness until a sickly red emergency glow bathed the hall. Alarms screamed. Somewhere beyond the smoke, something huge moved.
The guard at the door swore and reached for his radio. “What the fuck—”
Then fire roared down the corridor toward us—wrong-colored flames of blue, purple, and gold that twisted the air.Dragon fire.I knew even though I’d never seen it.
The guard lifted his gun, but he froze at the threshold as the blaze thundered forward without consuming him. Through the inferno strode a man I recognized even though my brain told me it was impossible—my captain—Maxmy brain insisted. Behind him, our goaltender emerged from the firestorm, and the guard bolted. Taz sighed and flicked a finger and what looked like a wall of ice encased the guard, freezing him still.
Max grinned as he stepped through the flames, bent down, and ripped my ties as if they were tissue. “Theron,” I croaked, voice breaking, as he lifted me like I weighed nothing.
“We’re getting him,” Max said. “Ready to go home?”
His massive frame shielded me from the worst of the heat, the fire parting around him like it recognized him. In a moment we burst into the central hub—
And my world collapsed.
Ignatius stood there, cradling what used to be Theron, and my stomach dropped so violently I thought I’d be sick. Theron’s body was a ruin of blistered, blackened flesh—skin hanging in shreds where radiation had burned it away. His hands were nearly detached, hair singed to stubble, chest barely rising. He wasn’t moving.
“No.” The word was a rasp. “No, no, no—” My voice cracked, and I struggled to free myself. To go to him.
“Stay with me,” Max said, tight and calm despite the chaos. Then we heard a sound, and Odin emerged and raised a gun.
Cole didn’t hesitate—he turned his head and raw, uncontrolled fire poured from his mouth. Odin didn’t scream. He didn’t have chance. One heartbeat later he was nothing but ash on the concrete.
