Page 19

Maisie didn’t say another word. I had stopped her in her tracks. Just minutes ago, she had stood in this exact wasteland and told me that Guy MacAllen had vanished into the historical fog of family tragedies, with nobody knowing where he'd gone.

Behind me, Maisie kept pace without a word. I could practically feel her unwavering stare burning a hole between my shoulder blades, but she followed me deeper into the canyon without debate.

The ground beneath us began to rhythmically shudder, a deep, earth-shaking tremor that heralded the arrival of a massive supernatural force. Through the swirling dust clouds and heavy fog, a massive silhouette broke over the jagged ridge.

A colossal, ten-foot-tall Bronze Warrior Dragon stepped out of the darkness. The metallic scales caught the eerie purple glow of the floating containment sphere, gleaming like ancient shields. The horns swept back from the brow with lethal grace. The posture, the gait, the sheer, staggering frequency of the Magic– it was undeniable.

Deep within my soul, Sully’s voice dropped into a fragile, reverent whisper. “Lou.”

“I know, Sully,” I thought, my throat tightening until I could barely swallow. “I know.”

This wasn't just me recognizing my blood. This was the ancient Dragon King recognizing his brother, Anluan, after a hundred years of absolute separation.

Suddenly, the towering Bronze Warrior Dragon froze mid-stride. The glowing eyes locked onto me, narrowing in a state of sudden, absolute shock. The massive jaw clicked shut. There was no thunderous war cry. There was no dramatic speech. There was only the staggering, agonizing weight of two brothers staring across a hundred years of believed death.

Right before my eyes, the magnificent Bronze Warrior Dragon began to recede, the heavy scales rippling backward into human flesh with a soft, Magical hiss. The towering ten feet dissolved down, leaving human Guy standing in the gray dirt.

I followed suit. Or rather, Sully pulled back his Warrior form until I stood six-foot-four again, leaving his bronze scale armor in place.

Grief does weird, deeply human things to a soldier's mind. I didn't notice the armor Guy wore, nor did I scan the perimeter for threats. Instead, my focus narrowed to a single, devastatingly mundane detail.

Guy’s hair was different.

The small, stupid observation absolutely wrecked me. After a century of surviving the black, toxic trenches of Hell, my little brother was standing right in front of me, breathing the mortal air.

Guy took a single, halting step forward, his voice cracking on the single word. "Knox?"

It wasn't a formal greeting. It wasn't the call of a Dragon Guardsman or a Texas Ranger. It was just my name, spoken with the fragile hope of a man who had spent decades mourning a ghost.

I forced the words past the massive boulder in my throat, my deep voice trembling. "Hey, little brother."

That was it. The final thread snapped.

Guy crossed the remaining distance between us like a freight train, his boots kicking up clouds of gray ash. I braced my feet, barely having time to register the movement before Guy slammed violently into my chest, throwing both arms around my neck in a crushing, unyielding embrace.

For one agonizing second, I just stood there, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. I had not been touched by someone who loved me in a hundred fucking years. The brutal reality of that isolation hit me all at once.

Then, my chest heaved, and my large, calloused hands slammed into Guy’s back, pulling him close, my grip turning absolutely crushing.

Deep inside my mind, Sully threw back his head and roared with pure, unadulterated triumph, a sound that was instantly answered by the brilliant, golden flare of Lou's Dragon Magic. My breathing completely broke, my eyes burning as I buried my face into Guy’s shoulder, the fierce, protective instinct of the MacAllen line violently snapping back into place.

Guy was no better, his fingers clawing into my back as if expecting me to dissolve into smoke. "I thought you were dead," Guy rasped against my shoulder.

"So did everybody else, apparently," I ground out, my voice rough like rusty metal grinding together.

Guy finally pulled back, his hands staying locked on my shoulders as his eyes frantically scanned my scarred face, verifying every line and feature. Then, because we were MacAllen men and emotional vulnerability had a strict survival limit, Guy balled up his fist and punched me squarely in the chest.

Staggering back half a step, my eyebrows shot up in genuine shock. "What the fuck was that for?"

"A hundred goddamned years!" Guy yelled, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and profound relief.

"I was in Hell!" I barked back.

Guy crossed his arms, a classic, infuriating MacAllen smirk breaking through his tear-stained face. "That's your excuse?"

My brother’s quick, incredibly dry, and sarcastic wit cut through the agonizing tension like a fresh breath of desert air. Inside my mind, Sully rolled onto his side, a massive, rumbling purr vibrating in my chest. “Aye, Lad. Definitely family.”

Several yards back, Maisie stood with her arms tightly crossed, watching the entire exchange. I saw the tears and couldn’t help but tease. After all, I was in a really good mood. “You’re crying?”