Vyr couldn’t feel her.

“Riyah?” he asked for the fiftieth time, at least.

Silence.

He couldn’t reach her. There was only emptiness where their bond used to be, and now he was truly alone, down here in a cage called The Dungeon. This place had been built with dragons in mind. No one knew about it but Vyr and the guards. This was the prison’s well-kept secret. While life went on far above, as the inmates worked, ate, exercised, had time in the yard, fought, showered, visited the commissary, slept…Vyr had just died. Again.

He’d been lying here for hours after Changing back from the dragon, unable to even sit up. Every three weeks for six months, he’d been dragged down to the lowest level of the prison and forced to Change, and it was always the same afterward. He had to burn off the gallon of meds they’d filled him with. His blood was on fire as he lay curled on his side in the middle of the concrete floor. This place was cavernous, much bigger than his cell, to give the Red Dragon space to move, but it was narrow one way and long the other so he could never have enough room to stretch out comfortably and spread his wings. So there he sat for hours on end, blowing fire and magma, unable to move, feeling trapped, feeling claustrophobic, and missing the sky. And by missing the sky he meant that bone-deep, marrow-deep, soul-deep yearning for something he would never see or touch again. Instead, the Red Dragon sat in a steal and cement cage, burning himself with his own fire until he got sick, or gave up and disappeared into Vyr’s skin. And for longer and longer periods of time, the dragon would leave completely, and it was just the man named Vyr left. The media called him the Son of the Dragon, but Damon’s legacy would end the day the Red Dragon failed to return to Vyr after a Change.

This one was bad. It was the worst one yet. Too many meds, too little time Changed, and the dragon had given up faster than ever. And now, he’d been lying here for three hours at least, and he still couldn’t feel the dragon.

And there was the scrape. He’d landed hard when he Changed back and the side of his forearm was covered in road rash. It seeped still, hours later, and hadn’t healed even a little bit. It was a really bad sign.

Body burning from the inside out, Vyr slammed the side of his head on the cement three times and gritted his teeth, wishing to God the dragon would push a pissed-off rumble up his throat, but there was only silence.

There was scratching noises above him. Rats maybe. The dragon hadn’t eaten any ashes since Chad, but not even the rats were waking up the monster. Emmitt and the New IESA knew exactly what they were doing. They’d stunted the Red Dragon. Beat him into submission. He’d been defeated, and in this moment, he hated the world he’d been born into. He hated that he was Damon’s son. Hated that he’d failed to control the dragon better. Dad always said he didn’t try hard enough, but he was far from right. Vyr had devoted his life to training himself to only Change every three weeks. To stop Changes when he was angry. Dad didn’t understand. He never had. The Red Dragon wasn’t like Damon’s monster. Vyr’s dragon was completely separate.

And now the New IESA was in some mad-scientist lab above him creating another Red Dragon. Goodbye world if that ever got injected into someone. They had the devil in a syringe, and they didn’t even realize it.

“Riyah?”

Silence.

God, he wished she was here with him. Vyr’s body convulsed again, and another wave of fire burned through his veins. What if she was dead? What if those meds she’d taken into herself had killed her? She was human. Fuck. Fuck. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and curled into a tighter ball to ease the pain.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t feel her.

Maybe she was really gone, and if Riyah, that beautiful beacon of hope, was gone, he didn’t want to fight anymore.

The whole world said it was better off without him, so at what point did he decide to listen to them? Everyone thought he was bad, so maybe it was time to accept that he was bad. Maybe he was evil.

The scratching above was getting louder. Vyr tossed the tall ceiling a tired look and then forced himself up on his hands and knees. At least the rats meant he wasn’t alone when he did what he had to do next.

Three heaved breaths, and he stumbled to his feet and made his way over to the single observation room with two-way glass because he should see what he suspected.

He stared at the ground as he approached. There was a single light on the other side of the room, a blue one, and it cast the room in dim shadows that looked like moonlight. Always in the dark. The creature of darkness. Everyone was wrong about him. He loved sunlight. He loved flying above the clouds in daylight best. The dragon felt free there, felt good, felt whole.

“Riyah?”

Silence.

He came to a stop in front of the mirror glass, and with a steadying breath, he looked up at his haggard face. His stomach dropped to the floor. He would never forget this moment—it was the one where the crack in his stone heart was complete.

Both dragon eyes were frozen in his face now. The Red Dragon was dead. Riyah had tried to save him by taking that medicine, and look what happened anyway.

Vyr inhaled and released an agonized scream as long and loud as he could. Such an ugly, completely human scream. And when it tapered in his throat, he closed his fist and slammed it against the mirror, right at his reflection. The glass shattered outward like a spider web, distorting his hideous face. Good. He would never look in another mirror again. He couldn’t, because there was death in his eyes now.

Vyr turned and leaned against the stone wall, cold and damp against his back as he slid down. He slammed his head against it and wondered what it would feel like to cry. He’d never done that before, but if there was ever a time to express that emotion, it was now as he mourned the death of the most important part of himself.

Now, he was nothing at all.

The sound of metal on metal was grating, and Vyr looked up at where the sound was coming from. The rats were really fucking determined in these walls. He reached out but couldn’t feel any guards in the observation room. They usually left him alone when he was recovering. What danger was he now? Sure, he still had his powers from his mom, but they didn’t know that. All they knew was the dragon was weakest right after a forced Change.

Something huge fell out of the ceiling, sliding too fast down a rope, and Vyr stared in shock as a familiar face muttered, “Mother fuck-cakes,” as he landed hard on his feet on the concrete floor.

Oh, good. The Sickening was giving Vyr visions now. Not just voices in his head or a flash of something that wasn’t there. He was having a full-on psychopath moment right now.

Blond hair, blue eyes, twenty pounds of muscle bigger than the last time Vyr had seen him and, “Where the fuck is your beard?” he asked Imaginary Nox.

“Asshole guards made me shave it to make sure I wasn’t sneaking in a shank or, I don’t know, drugs or something. I look like a twelve year old. I need to grow that shit out quick because Nevada is all about the beard against her poontang. You look like a three-week-old shit.”

Imaginary Nox, clad in orange prison garb, approached slowly. Vyr averted his gaze. Even though this wasn’t real, he wasn’t ready to share what had just happened to him. It was nice to pretend he wasn’t alone, though. “How did you get down here?”

“First thing’s first. I’ve been reading a book about how to be a better friend and chapter two said hugs are important.”

“Pass.”

“Bring it in.”

“Nox, I don’t want to hug you right now.”

“Right now? Okay, so then later we’ll hug, after we bond.”

Imaginary Nox sat beside him and looked at a stopwatch in his hand. “I have five minutes before I have to get back. Torren is up there fighting like five silverbacks to give me time. Did you know, getting in here without being arrested is impossible? I researched this place for months and couldn’t find a single way in, but once you’re in? This place is not a well-oiled machine. We have like four people on the inside, two are guards, and your therapist? She’s a fuckin’ MVP. A goddamn witch. Natural born, too. Your mom found her and started all of this.”

“All of what?”

“Project Rescue the Red Dragon.”

“Too late.” Vyr’s voice echoed hollowly around the room with those two words. He wanted to retch.

“What do you mean?” Imaginary Nox asked softly.

With a sigh, Vyr blinked slowly and rolled his head against the rock, gave Imaginary Nox a clear view of his eyes.

Imaginary Nox’s eyes went round, and his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Red crept up his neck and his face turned to that of fury. “I’m calling this.”

“Calling what?”

“This is a goddamn-nough. I fuckin’ told them we needed to be doing extraction, not trying to keep you steady while they fuckin’ torture you.” Imaginary Nox’s voice bounced off the walls with the force of his angry words. He flashed a pissed-off glance to the stopwatch in his fist again. “Tell me it’s not over. Tell me your eyes don’t mean what I think they mean.”

“The therapist,” Vyr murmured tiredly. “I need to know if she’s okay. She took a dose of meds to protect me. I can’t feel her anymore. Riyah.”

“Okay, the way you just said her name…” Imaginary Nox arched his eyebrows. “Is she yours?”

“Nothing is mine, Nox. That wasn’t the life I was born to. I just need to know she’s safe.”

“Done. I’ll find out. Nevada and Candace are on the outside—”

“Why aren’t they locked up with us?” Vyr rested his elbows on his bent knees and stared at the blue light across the room. The questions he asked didn’t matter because he was making this all up, but damn, it felt good to pretend he was here with one of his crew. He missed Nox.

“Well, because Candace has a little baby Kong in her. I read a book on fetuses. It’s like the size of a grain of rice right now. I drew a picture of a tiny gorilla in my dream journal and Nevada thought it was cute as fuck and now I want to put like seventy-three babies in her because she gets all mushy when she talks about them. Plus an army of Noxs would be awesome. Kong and Candace started trying for a little baby for the crew a few months ago. They want a girl, but I’m praying for a boy just to watch them have to raise a mini-Torren. I’m gonna train him to shoot his dad with a crossbow and vandalize shit. Gonna make that little monkey love me more. Anyway, the plan was for us to come in here so you could be close to us, but Torren put his foot down on Candace coming in here pregnant. And my girl…well…she’s not the best criminal. She did hang out in the drunk tank in Foxburg for a night though, and I was really fuckin’ proud of her.” His voice went thoughtful. “If we had more time, I would try to sneak her in for a conjugal visit. I love the challenge of this place. I know the timing of all the guards, all their habits. I know your exact schedule. Fuckin’ A-Team. I keep trying to explain I’m the MVP of this crew, and y’all don’t believe me. After this, everyone has to stop treating me like the village idiot. I’m way smarter than all of you. Except Nevada. She’s a super-hot nerd. Gotta jet, Alpha.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m no one’s alpha.”

“False, you are the alpha of the Sons of Beasts. Do you know what this position is doing to Torren while you’ve been away? He’s literally put on forty pounds of muscle, and he fights me every day that ends in Y.”

“Bet you love it.”

“Fuck yes I love it, but HavoK needs to be controlled, and being in here isn’t going to help. Torren didn’t even make it five minutes before he was locked up with a silverback. Our crew can’t afford to go backward. We gotta baby on the way now, and half of us are in shifter prison, and one of us looks like a corpse.” Imaginary Nox jammed a finger at Vyr. “That’s you. I’m talking about you. I’m serious when I say you look like shit. Riyah will never play with your balls if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Arguing about Riyah not belonging to him was pointless. Nox wasn’t really here.

“I have to go. It’s hug time.”

“Pass,” Vyr muttered.

“Fuckface, hurry up, you’re going to get me busted, and I’m not leaving until I embrace you. In a manly way.”

Vyr wanted to die the rest of the way. Gritting his teeth, he stood up and prepared to hug a ghost because he was in full-on crazy town now. But as Imaginary Nox pulled him in, he was solid and clapped Vyr on the back three times so hard it whooshed his breath out. What the fuck? Vyr froze, his hands held up at Nox’s sides. “Nox? You’re really here?”

Nox’s voice sounded too thick as he said, “I really missed you, man. I really did. It sucks without you around. There’s a huge hole in the crew, and we’re struggling to stay steady. Do you know why?”

Stunned, Vyr patted Nox’s back and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because you’re the glue, Vyr. You always were. And if I ever fuckin’ hear you say you’re nothing again, I’m going to punch you in the dick. I love you, man. Say it back.”

“Nox—”

“I spray-painted one hundred and sixty-nine dicks around the town of Foxburg, Vyr. I signed them all. I got arrested for you. I gave up BJs for a six-month sentence so I could be here for you. Tell me you love me.”

Defeated, Vyr muttered, “I love you too, dude.”

“Now, tell me Torren is a hairy chode, that he is the worst member of the crew, and that I’m your favorite.”

“Nox.”

“Worth a try.” Nox slapped him hard once more, then spun and jogged to the rope. “Hey, Vyr?”

“Yeah?”

Nox stood there, his face unreadable in the shadows, holding onto the rope with one hand. “Even if the dragon is gone, you’re still important to me. And to Torren, Candace, and Nevada, and a lot people. And I bet you’re really important to that girl, too. Riyah? You touch the people who really get to know you.”

Huh. Vyr frowned. “You’re different than I remember.”

“Yeah, Nevada’s training me to be normal.” Nox snorted. “Just kidding, she would hate me if I was normal. Oh, and Mr. Diddles is still alive. I bought him a girl swan so he could stop humping that stupid duck statue. You owe me thirty bucks. I had to special order her from a feed store. I’ve named her Mrs. Tittles.” Nox slapped his leg, and his single, bellowing laugh echoed as he repeated, “Mrs. Tittles. God, I’m awesome. See you soon, Fuckface.” And then Real Nox scaled the rope neatly and disappeared into the ceiling.

Shocked to his core, Vyr was left in the dark, once again. But something small had eased in his middle. Nox had shown up right in the middle of the worst moment of his life and told him he was still important.

And he wanted to tell Riyah about it. He wanted to unload this burden on the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. He wanted to hear it again. That everything would be okay. But he wanted to hear it from her because he was selfish. He wanted those words from Hope, because that’s what he sometimes called her in his head. Hope was what she was.

“Riyah?”

“…I’m here.”

Chills blasted against his skin as he went to his knees and arched his head back, closed his eyes in relief. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Her voice was so frail in his head. So weak.

“I wish I could hold you right now. I wish I could take care of you.” God, he wished that more than anything.

“Me, too. Vyr?”

“Yeah, babe?” She deserved pet names for what she’d done for him. For trying to save him.

“I was here when you were talking to Nox. Is…” Her voice dipped to almost nothing in his head. “Is the dragon really dead?”

Vyr opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. And for the first time in his entire life, a drop of warm water welled up and slid down his cheek. “Yes.”

Her voice trembled but held honest notes as she murmured, “Everything is going to be okay.”

He could feel her heartache in his mind. It matched his, and in this moment, he knew he loved her. He knew as long as she was here, in his head, he wouldn’t be alone with this.

The crack in his heart filled with something warm, something red. Something that tingled. It was the only thing about him that didn’t hurt right now.

Nox had been wrong.

Vyr wasn’t the glue.

Riyah was.