Ashes of Flame: The Dragon Mafia Chronicles Read online

  “I can’t let them continue to hurt you.” My lip trembled and I felt close to crying, but I did my best to swallow it down.

  “I’ll be fine.” He winced, and I glared at him. “Look, I’m being allowed to get cleaned up. Let me look around and get the lay of the land, so to speak, then we can make up an escape plan.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that it was a stupid plan, but then logic caught up. Pressing my lips together I tried to think rationally. This was a perfect opportunity, and possibly the only one we’d get.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” I asked. This was far beyond him. He was a doctor meant to help people and I’d bet he never imagined he would ever be in this position.

  “No, but there aren’t many options. I’ll be alright. I’ll stay out of Gwenna’s way and find out everything I can.”

  It was my turn to nod my teeth, worrying my bottom lip. “You need to lay back down on your back this time.”

  I complied and laid down, grateful that I was able to lay back, again. I was incredibly weak. It frustrated and annoyed him. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was feeling those things, but I took it as a good sign that a piece of me was falling back into place.

  With effort, Royce stood and grabbed the thin blanket and pulled it so it was covering my body. Next, he unhooked the IV from my arm and tucked it under the blanket.

  “Thank you,” I could feel exhaustion dragging me down.

  The banging sound indicated the door was opening. Royce guided my head to the opposite side so no one could see my face. I closed my eyes in case they decided to get a closer look for some reason. His fingers lingered on my cheek and I had the sudden urge to grab it.

  “Let’s go,” the male’s gruff voice said.

  I could feel Royce withdraw and move toward the door. Tears gathered suddenly and I realized I didn’t want him to go—to be alone again. I didn’t have a choice, so I listened as the door closed and footsteps grew faint. Then I let the tears fall.

  I jerked to full awareness as an alarm blared. It was loud and obnoxious, reminding me of what a fire alarm sounded like. Was there a fire?

  With effort, I used the wall to pull myself up and into a sitting position. The soft glowing lights on the ceiling were off and the room was uncomfortably dark. I tried to hear anything, but I couldn’t make out any sounds over the blaring. Even thinking was proving difficult.

  A couple minutes passed before I realized that I could smell smoke. There’s definitely a fire somewhere, and close. I looked around the room searching for anything that could help me. There was nothing but concrete walls, the thin blanket covering me, and the bench-like bed—it was completely clean.

  The blanket pulled on my arm, followed by a sting that had me flinching; it had snagged the IV port in my arm. I almost dismissed it, but something made me pause and study it more closely. The catheter was in my vein and I knew, somehow, that it was flexible, not as unyielding as a metal needle. Urgently, I began taking the tape off, trying not to wince as it pulled hair and skin—the tape was worse than the needle.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I pulled the plastic out of my arm using the blanket to staunch the bleeding. With the newly freed catheter in hand, I tried to stand and nearly fell flat on my face. Heart hammering with adrenaline, I used the wall for support as I shuffled my way toward the metal door.

  I knew it was locked, but I tested the door, anyway, hoping that maybe someone had gotten careless. As far as anyone knew, I was in a coma, but it seemed no one was taking any chances. Using my fingers, I felt around the doorknob searching for a keyhole. A small something was underneath the handle but I had no idea what it could be. I had a flexible needle and was positive it wouldn’t do anything to open the door. I had to try though.

  It took three attempts to find the hole, and another handful of wiggling it around. The click of the lock was a surprise and I jumped. Now the next problem—getting the door open. It looked and sounded heavy. If I could manage to open it in my weakened state, it would be a miracle.

  I grabbed the knob and pulled. Nothing happened. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped my other hand around the knob and used all of my weight. It budged, but my knees were on the verge of giving out. I rested for a few seconds, mustered up the strength, and gave it another try. The door moved smoothly inward. Maybe I was getting my strength back.

  A head poked around the door and I recognized Royce’s beat up face.

  “Royce,” I whispered, beyond happy to see him, but too weak to hug him. “What’s going on?”

  “The upper floors are on fire and it’s moving quickly. We need to get out of here.” He grabbed my arm and guided it across his shoulders.

  “I can walk. You have more injuries than me.”

  “You are extremely weak. I’ve at least had regular food and water to keep up my strength.” He grunted as he tried to support some of my weight.

  This was going to suck.

  There was a hall outside my prison cell, made of the same grey concrete. Lights were spaced out on the ceiling, the smell of dirt and mildew barely detectable under the smell of smoke. A haze had gathered along the ceiling. In a few minutes the hall would be full of smoke.

  “How do we get out?” I asked. He’d seen more of this place than I had.

  “I’m not sure. Just making this up as I go,” he replied, wincing with every step we took.

  The hallway bent, so we followed it right and noticed a metal staircase leading up to the next floor. We both took a break leaning against the cool wall, then together, we started to climb.

  It took longer than it should have, but we made it. The smoke was thicker up here, my throat burned with every breath I took. Royce was breathing shallowly, his ribs, and my added weight, taking its toll on him.

  While he rested against the wall, I tested the knob with my hand. It was almost too hot for me, but with quick movements, I twisted and pulled the door open.

  An arm grabbed me and pulled me away from the door as a plume of flames snapped into the room looking for oxygen to fuel it.

  “We can’t go that way,” I coughed. Tears leaked from my eyes at the heat and smoke.

  “It’s the only way out,” Royce wheezed.

  I grabbed the collar of the shirt I wore and pulled it over my mouth and nose, hoping to filter the smoke a little. I wiped my eyes, then squinted through the door and into the flames. Fire engulfed the ceiling and the top of the walls of the hallway beyond. There were doors on either side, but the one opposite me had smoke seeping under it, like it was being sucked through, which made me think it was the way out.

  “There’s a door on the other side of this hallway,” I said to Royce, who was holding his ribs and doing his best to fight the urge to cough. “If we stay low and hurry, we can reach it before the flames hit the floor.”

  He nodded, pulling his shirt up over his nose and mouth like I had done, then using the wall, slid down until he was on his knees. Sweat poured from his forehead and I could see the obvious pain he was in, and I hated that there was nothing I could do.

  I lowered myself down onto my knees and led the way into the room. It was infinitely hotter in this hallway and the smoke was thickening. We didn’t have much time.

  Crawling was slow and hard, but adrenaline helped us to reach the end of the hall. Coughing and trying to see through my tears, I reached up and tested the doorknob. It was warm but with cool undertones. I twisted the metal but nothing happened.

  No, no, no. Please don’t be locked.

  I tried again but it didn’t turn, the door was locked Though tears were streaming down my face, I felt a different emotion rise, causing more tears to flow. Royce had slumped to the ground and I knew he had to be close to unconsciousness. Someone with broken ribs couldn’t handle the weight of the chest cavity. He must be in agony; the crawl down the hallway, just to have the door locked, leaving us trapped.

  The squeal of metal sounded and I braced myself for the roof to collapse on top of us, but it didn’
t. Instead, the locked door was torn off its hinges. Cool air touched my face then, just as suddenly as the fire roared.

  I grabbed Royce’s arm, intending to drag him out with every ounce of strength I had left, but before I could even attempt that, I was hauled over someone’s broad shoulder. Coughs wracked my body and it felt like I’d never be able to draw a normal breath again. Whoever had me turned to go back outside but I strained, flailing for Royce. I couldn’t leave without him.

  The person who held onto me shifted, then turned and bent down. I hoped that whomever grabbed Royce.

  Hanging upside down, coughing up a lung, I couldn’t see where we were going, but I knew we were heading away from the fire and certain death.

  Smokeless air caressed my skin and I marveled at how good it felt to be away from the heat. My coughing grew less the more air I breathed. My head was clearing and it seemed to be happening faster than it should, but I wasn’t going to complain.

  All too soon I was tipped and set down. The blood rushing back into the rest of my body made me dizzy, but after a couple minutes, I realized it wasn’t my head or blood that was the problem. I was in a boat.

  What the hell?

  A body thunked—I turned to see Royce sitting beside me. His head hung limply, but the steady rise and fall of his chest told me he was still alive. Grabbing his hand, I intertwined our fingers, grateful that we had both made it out alive.

  “Put these on,” a gruff voice said, as life jackets were deposited in my lap. “We’ve got a ways to go.”

  I didn’t argue or protest. I slipped my arms into the vest then did the same for Royce, but backwards, since I was too weak to support his body weight to put it on properly. Looking around, I saw what I assumed to be normal boat stuff. I grabbed a grungy green tarp and tucked it around Royce and myself. That done, I was completely exhausted.

  A very distant part of myself was worried about where we were going and who had rescued us. Were we free or heading to another prison?

  My stomach lurched, pulling me from the light sleep I had fallen into. The sky was lightening dawn was approaching swiftly. The boat gave a violent jerk again, pitching forward. An arm caught me before I could catch myself.

  Turning, I saw that Royce had me. He looked dazed and was blinking rapidly, probably trying to figure out how we had gotten here. I’d have to explain later, because I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on.

  The boat crunched as it pushed onto shore, rocks and sand scraping along the bottom before jerking to a stop. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever been on a boat before, but this version of myself didn’t like it—not one bit.

  A man appeared and slung himself over the side of the boat with a rope in hand. He wore all black, including a ski mask that hid his entire face. He wasn’t very large, or overly muscular, but he carried himself with ease and grace.

  Glancing at Royce I saw that he was studying the guy as he moved about the boat securing it to the shore.

  “Who is he?” Royce whispered to me.

  I shrugged and shook my head. I had no idea who he was, but he’d saved us from the fire and brought us to the middle of nowhere, which was better than where we were.

  “Come. We don’t have much time,” the masked man said, holding out his hand toward me. I gulped. Could I trust him? Probably not—but a part of me reasoned that he had plenty of opportunity to hurt us.

  I placed my hand in his gloved one and let him pull me to my feet, then help me off the boat. He walked me up the bank then returned to help Royce disembark.

  “Thank you,” I told the stranger, who nodded. Regardless of who’s under that mask, he had saved both of us, and I’d be eternally grateful.

  “Who are you?” Royce asked, eyeing the man warily.

  “A friend,” the man answered, his gaze on me like he was waiting for me to recognize him, maybe.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are. I’ve been in a coma and my memories are slowly returning.” I fingered the hem of my shirt, feeling vulnerable, and guilty, of all things.

  “I see,” the man replied, pulling the gloves off his hand, then moving to pull the mask from his face.

  He was old, much older than I expected. His hair and beard were white, while his eyes held both wisdom and pain. I found myself staring at him like I couldn’t get enough of his face; it was like seeing a friend after a very long time apart. My head buzzed as I found myself lost in his gaze.

  A name rose to the surface of my mind, and I realized that this was no ordinary man, no, he was a friend—a dear friend, in fact.

  “Ruvaen,” I breathed, then pain spiked my brain as more memories rose and overwhelmed me.

  Firm hands grabbed mine, giving me something to hold onto, as I quickly and violently remembered.

  After the first initial shock, all my memories, thoughts, feelings, impressions floated up, then moved to where they belonged. It was the strangest feeling I’d ever experienced, and one I wouldn’t soon forget.

  I couldn’t recall closing my eyes, but I blinked them open and met the kind eyes of Ruvaen. I smiled but felt the tears forming. It was so good to see him that I was legit close to ugly crying.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and sank into an embrace that I had wanted to experience ever since I left him healing my blood that he ingested.

  “How are you here?” I asked him, reveling in the fact that he was here … that he’d saved us.

  His hands gently cupped my cheeks and I leaned into the touch. This appeal I felt for him was not attraction in a sexual way. I liked being in his presence, it was comforting.

  “We are still connected. I’ve been busy healing you and myself. I felt when you woke up and was able to track you that way,” he explained.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, as a memory popped into my head. Someone related to Ruvaen. Someone whom I’m connected to.

  Kreed.

  Longing blasted into me. The need to go to him, to track him down, to touch him. The feeling and the urgency so strong, I tried to climb to my feet so I could search for him. It was completely irrational. I didn’t even know where I was, but I didn’t care. I was willing to walk across a desert in order to reach him.

  “Nik, don’t think about him.” Ruvaen grabbed me before I could attempt to rise again. “Don’t even think his name.”

  “Why not?” I valued Ruvaen, which was the only reason I paused. If it was anyone else, I would’ve told them where they could stick it.

  “You two are connected far more than even I knew was possible. He will track you down, Nik. If you feel compelled to find him, he feels it ten-fold. You can’t let him find you.”

  “I don’t understand.” My throat grew tight as tears built behind my eyes again. I couldn’t imagine not going to him; that connection that I had felt the last time I was with him was insistent—I belonged by his side. With my thoughts on the bond, I could sense him—not his thoughts, exactly, but if I put enough focus on it …

  “You’ve been away for weeks. He’s been beside himself, blaming himself. He’s desperate and has done some stupid things while you’ve been gone but going to him now will only cement his behavior,” Ruvaen explained, and for the first time, I felt a touch of anger toward him.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Nik. My son is noble and selfless, but in that pursuit, he loses himself, making rash decisions without thinking through the harm it could cause.”

  “What did he do?” I asked. He had to have done something very drastic if Ruvaen was here to protect me from his own flesh and blood.

  “I wish we had more time so I could explain this properly, but we don’t, and our time is dwindling.” His eyes flicked toward the rapidly lightning sky. “Kreed was desperate to find you. Everyone on the street was looking for you and that dragon, but only a dragon can find a dragon.”

  I gasped thinking about how dangerous it would be to track down another dragon and sneak them into the territory.

  “I can see what you ar
e thinking, but Kreed didn’t find another dragon. He went to the one he works for.” Ruvaen grabbed my shoulders as I swayed, feeling suddenly faint.

  “He … works for him?” my voice was small, half disbelief and half realization.

  “He told Briggs there was a wild dragon in his territory,” he confirmed, continuing to steady me. “There has been a city-wide dragon hunt. Fire and blood run unchecked through the streets.”

  “Briggs found where we were, he set the building on fire.” The picture was becoming clearer. Royce and I nearly died in that fire. Kreed would have found my extra crispy body.

  “That’s not the only news, Nik. When the dragon bit you right before you disappeared, I felt what he was taking from you. I know what you are,” Ruvaen said, nearly knocking me sideways with that statement, and then again when he continued, “I also know how you can get it back.”

  My body went numb and it felt like my brain froze. It was so much—too much—but not enough, at the same time.

  “Give her a break, please. Her mind is fragile. She just woke from a coma, survived dragon fire, and got her memories. If you keep pushing her, it could cause more damage,” Royce interjected.

  I had completely forgotten that he was here, listening to all of this. What must he think of all of this?

  “Believe me, I know what she can and cannot handle,” Ruvaen replied with a sniff, before turning back and watching me come to grips with what he was saying and willing to reveal.

  “Kreed went to a dragon,” I mumbled, knowing how much he hated them, but it warmed a small part of me that he would go to such extremes for me. I felt the bond stir, it felt like my blood was humming in my veins, singing to Kreed at the other end of the bond.

  “Nik!” Ruvaen was shaking my shoulders to get my attention. “Stop thinking about him. If you do he’ll find us quicker.”

  “Why don’t you want him to find us?” I asked, my thoughts wandering then grasping onto the other bit of news. “What am I?”

  “I don’t know how else to tell you this.” He looked regretful, and it made my stomach clench in fear.