Page 65 of Saving Her Dragon

Garrett shook his head immediately, keeping his hands in his pockets. "Keep it, Grey. It’s your asset."

"Was planning to," Grey chuckled, finally turning around to face him. He held the knife up into the bright Texas sun, turning it over once to catch the light. "Just wanted you to see it was returned. Not a single scratch on the casing."

Garrett offered a faint, fleeting smile. "Lucky knife."

"No," Grey countered, his voice dropping its teasing edge, turning into something deep, steady, and entirely authoritative. "Lucky brother." He stepped forward, his sharp gaze pinning Garrett to the spot. "Stop apologizing for surviving, little brother."

Garrett swallowed hard, the old armor trying to pull tight. "I'm trying."

"Try harder," Grey commanded.

He reached out, his massive forearm locking onto Garrett’s in the traditional, heavy clasp of Dragon Guard. The physical contact was solid, a brutal, grounding confirmation of the bloodline connection that Leviathan had tried to use as a roadmap. They held the lock for one long second, the silent brotherhood sealed between them, before Grey released his grip and stepped toward the porch steps.

Pausing at the top extraction point, he looked back over his shoulder. "Come home when you're ready, Garrett. The guys are waitin’."

The words mattered enormously. Garrett and Sydney had originally remained on the Heatherton property for a single tactical purpose: to heal and to hunt down and contain the anomaly inside his head. They had been tethered to the medical logs. Now, the perimeter was entirely clear. They could leave.

Carrick stepped out through the screen door a moment later, Ginnie right at his side. The renowned Guardsman looked down at the idling truck, then turned his wizened gaze onto Garrett. He didn't offer comfort or sympathy. He addressed a Guardsman who had just completed a deep-cover extraction.

"The Elder Council has been fully briefed on everything,” Carrick stated, his deep voice carrying the absolute weight of the Guard's command. “Leviathan is severely wounded. Whatever happened when the road collapsed cost him dearly, and he's gone to ground. The Guard units along the coast will continue tracking his signature, but as of 0800 hours this morning, Garrett...” His gaze hardened. “He isn't your mission today."

Garrett bristled out of habit, his tactical training screaming at him to keep a target active in the theater. "Carrick, if he's recovering…"

"That's an official order, Guardsman," Carrick interrupted, a stern but deeply proud smile touching his face. "Stand down. Rebuild your parameters. Take your Mate and go home."

From the swing at the end of the porch, Sydney let out a soft snort of amusement, her fingers tracing the edge of her clipboard. "I like him. He gives excellent orders."

Garrett rolled his eyes, but as he looked back at the Elder, his gaze landed on Carrick’s stiff collar. Resting perfectly in the center of the fabric was the heavy golden mount, its brilliant red dragon scale glittering safely under the open sky.

Carrick caught him looking and simply tapped the gold with a thick finger. "It's mine."

That was all. No complex explanations of sympathetic Magic, no deep breakdowns of the Law of Correspondence. The words were a powerful, definitive boundary.

Through the open window behind them, Garrett could hear the quiet, rhythmic scratching of metal against paper as Ginnie sat at the dining table, using her engraved silver fountain pen to make notes. Down by the truck, Grey was already sliding his brass knife back into his pocket, and on the front porch, Sydney reached up, her fingers looping the vibrant blue silk ribbon securely through the loose curls of her blond hair.

Every single stolen anchor had been reclaimed through ordinary, everyday use.

The Demon Lord of Envy had spent weeks trying to turn the family's personal histories and loves into a weaponized road to destroy them from the inside out. But the Demon Lord had never understood what gave those objects their power in the first place. The family didn't lock them away in a safe; they simply turned them right back into the things they loved.

Garrett slid his arm around Sydney's waist as she stepped up beside him on the porch, her head resting effortlessly against his shoulder. He looked out over the wide, sunny expanse of the Texas ranch, feeling the unbroken, roaring heat of the Mating Bond humming between them.

The doorway was closed. The road was gone. And for the first time in his life, the silence ahead of them felt absolutely, beautifully endless. It was time to be alone with his Mate.

The heavy oak front door of the cottage closed with a solid, definitive click.

Finally, the rest of the world faded away. The rumble of Grey’s truck had disappeared down the gravel drive, and the bustling, hyper-vigilant energy of the main homestead had completely receded, leaving the small cottage in absolute, unbroken silence. Sydney stepped up to the entryway, flipped the heavy brass latch, and deliberately turned the deadbolt until it locked.

Garrett watched her from the center of the living room, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Expecting company?"

"Preventing it," Sydney replied smoothly. Turning around, she leaned her hips against the wood, her blue eyes locking onto his. "I have had entirely enough emergencies, tactical briefings, and security protocols to last me the next three centuries. For the rest of the day, this perimeter belongs exclusively to us."

The room grew very still. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting long, lazy slashes of gold across the hardwood floor. No electrodes were glued to his temples. No surveillance camera blinking its tiny green eye from the molding. No brother sitting in heavy wooden chairs in the hallway, guarding the house from his own hands.

It was the first time they had been truly, entirely alone since the nightmare had begun.

Garrett looked down at his own palms, then back up at her face. The sudden absence of the threat left a strange, heavy vacuum in his chest. "Syd."

Without hesitation, she crossed the floorboards with soft, unhurried steps until she stood right before him, her shoulder brushing his chest. "You okay, Dragon Man?"