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My pulse jumped straight through the roof.

This man. This quest. The missing history. This strange pull between us.

None of it was folklore.

Arthur lifted a hand, slow and steady. He looked wholly unshaken. “Stay behind me.”

I didn’t argue.

The dragon stepped fully inside the room, teeth bared.

And that was how I learned my life was no longer a yearning for the stories I read in books.

It had just become one.

12

ARTHUR

I knew the moment the metal screamed that the conversation was over.

I stepped in front of Artemis. She was already leaning forward, curious instead of afraid, which was both impressive and deeply inconvenient.

“Stay here,” I told her, glancing around for a place for her she could hide. “Right behind that shelving unit. Don't move.”

Her gaze tracked the door with open fascination. “I should be taking notes.”

“This is not a note-taking situation.”

She opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she could speak. “I will explain everything. I promise. And I will not hurt you. Ever.”

That sank in. I saw it when her shoulders sagged a fraction. She gave a deliberate nod, and her trust awed me.

The entire door tore inward.

I didn’t hesitate.

I pushed upward and outward at the same time, letting the change take me. Bones shifted and power rolled through me in a way that felt like coming home and going to war at once.

The storage room did not survive the transition as I lunged at the other dragon.

Metal peeled back. Concrete cracked. Part of the ceiling gave way as I surged through it, carrying the fight with me into open space. The night split wide above the buildings as I cleared the structure and rose, the attacker following close behind.

Cold night air rushed over my scales as I cleared the roof. The city spread below in fractured lines of light and shadow, buildings stacked tight, streets threading between them. I beat my wings hard, gaining altitude just long enough to clear the debris before angling outward.

That was when I saw them.

Not one.

Six of them.

They circled at staggered distances, keeping formation, testing me. They were all smaller than me, which I knew would make them faster in short bursts. Their scales, dark and matte, were made for concealment. I didn’t recognize them, but I knew one thing. This wasn’t a chance encounter. It was a coordinated strike.

They knew. Someone knew.

I roared in warning, but theydidn’t heed it.

The first hit me from the flank, claws raking across my side, sending a burst of pain through me as my scales tore free.