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Explosions that rocked the ground he stood on, and fire that punched through the darkness.
Fire that burned.
Consumed.
Destroyed.
Taking everything it touched until there was nothing left. Not of the compound. Not of the Vanguard.
Not of him.
Sorin drew a shaky breath and staggered to a stop. For a moment, the noise inside his head—the chaos, the confusion, the fear—gave way to reality. He was still in the industrial sector, but he was far enough away from the Vanguard’s secret bunker that he couldn’t see the fire, only the billowing smoke that blotted out the stars from the sky, a temporary tombstone.
No one was nearby, living or dead.
He was on his own.
Sorin stood shivering there, watching the smoke rise, and sucked in cold air through his teeth. He was alive. It seemed impossible, but it was true. His heart still beat, and his blood still ran through his veins… but as the shock wore off and the reality of what had happened came crashing into him, he realized not all parts of him had been so lucky. He was only whole in the same way as the wrinkled remains of a balloon that had sprung a leak and lost its air.
Empty.
He had escaped with his life, but in doing so, had lost the Vanguard—and with them, what remained of his family.
Sorin wiped his arm fruitlessly across his dry eyes. He felt like crying—felt the seize in his chest that should have come out as a sob—but there were no tears left in him to cry. He hadn’t felt pain this dark or deep since the day he’d been forced to leave his children. Only this time, he hadn’t run because doing so would keep the ones he loved safe.
He’d run because they were already dead.
Another should-be sob heaved in his chest, and Sorin’s only defense against it was to clutch at his mouth with both hands, eyes squeezed tight, like if he could just hold it all inside of himself, it would pass.
But it did not.
Pain like this wasn’t something you could wish away. It was the kind that cemented itself deep inside and stayed there, too heavy to remove no matter how hard you tried. The only way to get rid of it was to chip away at it piece by piece. To labor. To strain.
But Sorin was tired of chiseling.
He had been doing it for hundreds of years and was no closer to being done now than he had been as a teenager, screaming through his heartbreak as his eggs were taken away.
Maybe tomorrow he would have the strength to start again, but there was nothing left in him tonight. Nothing but that new heaviness weighing him down and the piercing screams like sirens in his head.
He wanted to lie down. To sleep. To let the world do with him as it would. But when he looked at the uneven tarmac beneath his feet, pocked with loose gravel, all he could think of was how so many of the men and women who had trusted him were out there right now, their bodies littering the ground like they were nothing more than garbage. The thought made his stomach crawl.
They had been his friends.
They had believed in him, stood by him even when he struggled, and had done what they could to help. They had understood. They had never judged. And their kindness had been a glimmer of happiness in what was otherwise a cruel existence, cursed by vile magic that would forever keep him from his children and his mate.
He had watched them grow.
Watched them bloom from frightened victims of the Pedigree into capable young adults.
Had held their children, had celebrated with them, had watched them lead full and fulfilling lives… and watched as they’d died.
He had stood watch over their children, and their children’s children, seeing the same smiles passed down from grandmother, to mother, to son. He had heard the same laughs echo through the decades. Had told them stories of their ancestors and found comfort in noticing how no matter how much time passed, each family’s personality quirks never quite faded away.
It was not easy to live a dragon’s life in a world of mortal men, but they had made it worth it.
And now they were destroyed.
A wave of nausea rolled through him, so strong he had to hunch over, bracing his hands on his knees. His head spun. His stomach lurched. He spat, gasping, panting, waiting to be sick, but it never happened. The grotesque, nauseous feeling remained stuck inside of him. If he wanted it gone, he needed to find a place that wouldn’t remind him of what had happened tonight. Somewhere small and safe, where he could lie in the dark and breathe.
