Preview of Dragon’s Secret Baby: Silver Wolves Mercenaries

CHAPTER 1

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The blasts from Thorne Lewis' shotgun pounded through the air of the darkened room. Taking cover behind a nearby low barrier, he didn't look to see if his shots had hit home – he knew they had.

Through the dim light of the space, he scanned for his next targets. He allowed himself a moment to focus, to catch his breath and let his dragon eyes adjust to the room. Then, a beep sounded, followed by the clang of several targets popping up. Judging the distance, he could tell they were all the way on the other side of the room. And the clock was ticking.

Fucking Aurelius, he thought, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder, and leaping over the barrier.

By this point, Thorne's eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the shooting range, and, sure enough, he spotted his next three targets all the way on the other side of the room. Going by pure instinct, he rushed within range as fast as he could. Thorne leaped over the low barriers, ducked under the ones hanging from the ceiling, and dodged the shots coming from the small ports on the ceiling.

"Time's almost up, old man," came the voice of Aurelius through the room's speakers. "Ten seconds left if you wanna beat my record."

And now he's trying to fucking distract me, Thorne thought. Little punk.

But Thorne wasn't out of step just yet. Grabbing his shotgun and whipping into aiming position, he skidded onto his knees, took aim at the three human-shaped targets, and with a triplet of booming shots, knocked them down one by one. Once he confirmed he'd blasted the targets, Thorne ran with lightning speed over to the entrance to the range and slammed his palm down on the cherry red button next to it.

A buzzer sounded as the lights flicked on in the range. Scanning the room, Thorne noted with a pleased smile that every single target had been downed. With metallic grinding, the blasted targets raised on their tracks and moved back into their wall compartments. Thorne's eyes then flicked to the large, red digital display of his range time. Sure enough, he'd managed to keep his record – he'd beaten Aurelius' time by two seconds.

Should've been at least five, he thought, shaking his head. I'm losing my step.

The door behind him unlocked with a clang, and Thorne pulled it open and stepped through into the small storage space where he left his gun and ammo on the counter to be restocked. Once done, he stepped through the next door and entered a large room walled with banks of CCTV camera feeds. And sitting here and there was his crew, the Silver Talon Mercenaries.

They applauded as Thorne entered the room. All of them except for Aurelius, who stood leaning against the wall, his ropey arms crossed over his chest, his displeased expression nearly hidden by the long, ink-black hair that lay draped over his face.

"Fuckin' A, boss," said Corvo, Thorne's second-in-command, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a ruddy face and military-short hair. "You fuckin' wrecked in there."

"You know, cap," said Hoxson, a short, red-haired brick wall of a solider and the team's demolitions expert, "I thought, for a second, that you weren't gonna pull it off. But now I look like an asshole."

"An asshole who's out a grand," said the team's sniper, Jace, a willowy, red-haired woman with model-good looks and a mouth like a longshoreman. "Pay up, shitbird."

"Can't believe you bet against the boss," said Mick, the Talon's heavy assault expert, and a lean, strapping young man with a pug-ugly face and arms covered in fearsome tattoos.

"That right?" asked Thorne. "You put down money against your own captain?"

"Hey," said Hoxson, "Aurelius might be a prick, but he's got some moves. And the odds were too good to pass up."

"Well," said Thorne, "now you're going to be out even more than a grand. First round's on you."

"Ah, fuck," said Hoxson.

The team laughed and carried on, eager to get to the "free drinks" part of the training day. Aurelius, on the other hand, didn't budge an inch from where he stood. His handsome face was locked in a brooding expression that was typical for him, and Thorne knew something was up.

"That was a good score, Aurelius," said Thorne as the rest of the group headed out the door and toward the bar. "You keep at it and you're gonna be the top man in the Talons. But, for now, we're gonna get fucked up."

Aurelius snorted.

"I'll catch up with you guys," he said. "I'm going to stick around and run the practice a few more times."

"Sure," said Thorne. "Don't wait too long – getting fucked up's an order, not a suggestion."

With that, he clapped Aurelius on the shoulder hard and headed out. Moments later, he was out with the rest of the group, heading down the wide hallway of Silver Talon HQ.

"Where to tonight, cap?" asked Mick. "Taproom?"

"No go on the tap room," said Hoxson. "Had a little, ah, incident there the other night. Kinda want to avoid the place until the heat dies down."

"I'm gonna guess that by ‘incident' you mean you got shithammer drunk and picked a fight you couldn't win," said Jace.

"Right about everything but the part about not winning the fight," said Hoxson with a proud smile "I laid that little fucker out like you wouldn't believe. Some little shithead from the Golden Wings mercs."

"Gods, I hate those fuckers," said Mick. "Good thing it was one of those rich-kid twerps, otherwise I might be pissed for eighty-sixing my favorite fucking bar for the night."

"Let's do El Gringo's," said Corvo. "I could go for a fuckin' burrito."

Thorne stayed back while the team carried on, eager to get a drink in front of him and relax after a long day of training. Soon, the team was out of HQ and back on the streets of Hell's Kitchen. The red and white neon sign of El Gringo's was alight in the distance like a lighthouse leading them to booze. Minutes later, the crew was gathered around a small wooden table in the cheap Mexican joint, a huge metal bucket of beers packed into ice in front of them.

"No trip to El Gringo's is complete without a round of tequila shots," said Jace, waving down the nearest waiter.

Right at that moment, a buzzing sounded in Thorne's pocket. It was a particular buzzing pattern, one he reserved for special clients. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen, his eyes going wide as he did.

"Yo!" she said once she had the waiter's attention. "Five shots of your cheapest, shittiest tequila! Pronto!"

"Make that four shots," said Thorne, holding up his hand, his eyes still on his phone.

"Whoa," said Mick. "Boss isn't getting fucked up?"

"As much as I want to, I can't," said Thorne, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Just got a message from the Abruzzi."

"The Abruzzi?" said Hoxson. "You mean the ‘extremely old and extremely, extremely powerful dragon clan' Abruzzi?"

"That's the one," said Thorne.

"The ones whose legs we've practically been humping for the last two years to get a gig with?" asked Corvo.

"You got it," said Thorne.

"I guess we did enough humping," said Jace, a wicked smirk on her face.

"Then we're gonna be meeting with them, I suppose?" said Corvo.

"I'm going to be meeting with them," said Thorne. "And they want to meet right now."

"Holy shit," said Hoxson. "This must be a big fuckin' gig."

Thorne's mind raced with the possibilities of what the Abruzzi would want on such short notice, and why they wanted him, and only him. It was only a minute since he'd gotten the message, and he was already having a bad feeling about the whole thing.

"Whatever it is," said Thorne, getting up out of his seat, "I gotta get there now."

"Later, boss," said Corvo. "And keep us posted."

"You'll know when I know," said Thorne. "And good work today, all."

With that, Thorne took his leave of the group and headed back out onto the city streets. As he made his way to his ride, he tried to make sense of this new development. Thorne knew that Corvo was right; they'd been trying to land the Abruzzi for years. The older dragon clans of the city were hard nuts to crack, however, and tended to have their own personal mercenary groups that they favored. But they were where the big money in the city was, so long odds didn't stop groups like Thorne's Silver Talons from doing their best to get their foot in the door.

Guess I'll find out soon enough, thought Thorne as he approached his ride – a huge, motorcycle of polished, gleaming chrome – and climbed on top of it.

And that wasn't the only thing Thorne was worried about – Aurelius' behavior gave him pause. Aurelius was the newest addition to the team, a kid fresh out of training and eager to prove himself. Thorne was used to upstarts gunning for the more senior mercs like him, hoping to earn their stripes by showing that they were the new hotness, but there was something about Aurelius that was more pointed, more hostile, even. Thorne knew that Aurelius was from the wealthy and powerful Inri family, who used their pull to get Aurelius on the team, and he wondered if coming from such a rich and influential dragon family was factoring into his behavior.

Kid like that's coming up against the first real challenges of his life working with me, thought Thorne as he gunned the engine to his bike. And he's not happy with not getting his way. I'm gonna have to keep a close eye on him, make sure he doesn't turn into a resentful little prick.

Thorne tore down the streets of Manhattan, making his way to the Abruzzi tower in Midtown. After a short trip, he arrived at the tower − a tall, gleaming spire that cut into the night sky above the city like a silver knife. Thorne always had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that more than a few of the super scrapers that dominated the Manhattan skyline were owned by ancient dragon families like the Abruzzi. Sure, Thorne had plenty of wealth of his own, but it was nothing compared to what clans like these had built up over the centuries. Some could even trace their wealth back to pre-medieval times.

After a long elevator ride up to the top of the building, Thorne stepped out into the sleek, modern offices of Abruzzi holdings, the front company for the clan. He made his way to the conference room and let the receptionist know he was there. The great doors of dark wood opened, revealing a magnificent conference room, the view looking out from the incredible height of the tower onto the glittering sweep of the city around them.

"There's the dragon we've been waiting to see," said Harold Abruzzi, the silver-haired patriarch of the Abruzzi clan.

He was dressed in his usual immaculate suit, his hair parted perfectly. At his flanks were Marion Abruzzi, his wife, and Cedric Abruzzi, his son. At the sides of the long conference table sat a dozen or so other members of the clan, all with the same prim, chiseled features as the three highest family members.

"Been waiting to see me, huh?" asked Thorne. "Can't help but wonder why you all would go from not knowing my crew even exists to calling me for a last-minute meeting."

"Well, Mr. Lewis," said Harold, "you're sounding a little insubordinate for a dragon who's about to get the job of a lifetime."

"Maybe we ought to give the job to someone else," said Marion, her stunning features in an expression of skepticism. "Someone who's a little more well-mannered."

"Someone like me," said Cedric, his tone pompous. "I'm telling you, father – I could have the girl in the city by nightfall tomorrow. Just give me a ch–"

Not bothering to turn his head toward his son, his steely eyes fixed on Thorne, Harold raised a hand to signal that he wanted nothing but silence from his son.

"A girl?" asked Thorne. "What is this, an assassination mission or something? Lucky for you, wetworks are my specialty."

"Oh, I know," said Harold. "I did my homework on you, Thorne. You're a man who'll take any job without hesitation, from assault to assassination. And you'll take them without complaint, like the good mercenary you are. Matters like ‘morality' don't seem to matter much to you."

"That's the kind of shit you don't get the luxury of worrying about when you sign on to be a merc," said Thorne. "I like to think of myself as a tool – you use me to do a job."

"But…" said Harold, a small smile forming on his lips. "You weren't always like this. According to my research, you used to be something of a do-gooder."

Thorne bristled at this. He realized that the man had done his homework.

"That's all in the past," said Thorne. "Now, I'm all about getting paid. And I hear that your clan has money to spare."

"That we do, Mr. Thorne."

"Then what's the gig? And how much time does my team have to get ready?"

"Thing about that," said Harold. "We only require your services for this particular mission."

"See, that's not going to work," said Thorne. "You want me, you get my team. I don't work without them."

"You can have them for recon, or moral support, or whatever," said Harold. "I don't give a damn. But when it comes to the mission itself, I only want you handling the necessaries. Fewer mercenaries mean less attention."

Thorne remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back.

"And trust me," said Harold. "What I'm going to be paying you for this little operation will be more than enough to make you and your team very, very happy."

"Then let's not waste any more time," said Thorne. "Let's get down to it."

"Just what I wanted to hear," said Harold.

He then typed a few keystrokes into the computer setup to his right, bringing a satellite of the state of Louisiana onto the screen. The image then zoomed in on New Orleans.

"This is where you'll be headed for the mission," said Harold. "New Orleans. It's where your target currently resides."

"My target," repeated Thorne. "And what do I need to know about him?"

"'Her," corrected Harold. "Your target is a young woman by the name of Adelaide Wilson."

Harold typed in another few keystrokes, this time bringing onto the screen an image of a young woman who was so strikingly beautiful that it gave Thorne pause. The young woman was fair-skinned, with dark, shoulder-length brown hair that framed the stunning features of her heart-shaped face. And her body didn't look too bad, either. The image appeared to have been taken from a distance, but Thorne couldn't help but notice the lovely curves on display.

"And who is she?" asked Thorne. "Some dragon who decided life in the big city wasn't for her?"

"Well," said Harold, tapping a key, and turning off the display, "I'm afraid we've reached the end of the ‘need-to-know' information."

Harold lowered his gaze and regarded Thorne with a skeptical expression.

"I trust that this won't be a problem? After all, one of the reasons I choose you to perform this job is that you and your crew have a reputation for doing the work without asking questions. Anything for a payday."

Thorne nodded, the image of the girl still fresh in his mind.

"That's right," he said. "You pay me, and I don't give a good goddamn what else you have in mind."

"Excellent," said Harold. "So, your task is to find this girl and bring her back to me in one piece. I'd prefer that she be completely unharmed, but I won't object to a little roughing-up if you find it necessary in order for her to…cooperate."

"No assassination?"

"Absolutely not," said Harold. "It's imperative that she be brought to us alive. If anything should happen to her…well, let's just say, I sincerely hope, for your sake, that it doesn't come to that."

Thorne kept cool at this. Being threatened by one of the oldest clans in the city didn't exactly sit well with him, but he was used to such talk from clients like this.

"So," said Thorne. "Go to New Orleans, find this girl, bring her back in one piece. Sounds easy enough."

"I hope it is," said Harold. "This girl is a college student, so you shouldn't have any trouble apprehending her."

All of this struck Thorne as bizarre. What on earth did a clan like the Abruzzi want with some college kid? But he knew better than to ask.

"All sounds good," said Thorne. "Just the matter of payment to discuss."

Harold turned to one of the men at the conference table closest to Thorne and gave the man a slight nod. The man then reached into his suit jacket, withdrew a small, folded piece of paper, and handed it to Thorne, who opened it up.

Thorne's eyes went wide as he looked at what was written inside.

"I trust that this should be an adequate amount for a job such as this?"

"This..." said Thorne, trying to play it cool in the face of all the zeros on the paper in his hands. "…should be sufficient."

"Then good. Your deadline is one week. That will be all."

With that, Thorne was led out of the room and toward the elevators. Back on his bike, the events of the strange meeting swirled in his mind. He drove back toward Hell's Kitchen, ready to tell the rest of the crew just what was going on.

But despite the money, he knew there was more to this seemingly simple operation than Harold was letting on. Thorne could only hope it wasn't something that might kill him in the process of getting it done.

CHAPTER 2

"Get up! Right now, dammit!"

Adelaide Wilson couldn't believe what she was seeing. Sprawled out on the couch, in the middle of the afternoon, his bong on the floor at his feet, was her boyfriend, Marcus. His eyes were shut tight and roaring snores sounded from his slacked open mouth. A little bit of drool dripped down from the corner of his lips. And, as usual, he was wearing nothing but his ratty blue plaid pajama pants.

"Up! Now!"

Adelaide was furious. She tossed her purse at him, the impact jostling him out of his nap. Marcus jerked upright in his seat and looked around with bleary eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Adelaide, her hands on her hips.

"I was, um, watching Rick and Morty," he said, his voice groggy, gesturing to the TV that was still playing. "You ever saw this show before? It's pretty funny."

"No," said Adelaide, her voice edged with anger, "because I was at school all day, not sitting around in my pajamas smoking weed."

"These aren't my pajamas," he said, tugging at the dingy fabric. "These're my lounging around pants. You know I don't like to wear during the day the same shit I sleep in."

Adelaide was almost too angry to speak. She scanned the room, noting the junk food wrappers, the empty beer cans, and the PlayStation controller lying on the floor among the mess. It didn't take much detective work for her to know what he had spent his day doing.

"Oh, how responsible of you," said Adelaide, stepping out of her heels and kicking them off to the side.

"You gotta, you know, take baby steps," said Marcus, stretching. "First you start by making sure you're putting on different clothes in the morning, then-"

"Then what? You actually start showering on a daily basis? You get up before noon? You eat some food that doesn't come in a plastic bag?"

"Um, eventually, yeah," he said, not appearing to be bothered in the slightest by Adelaide's anger.

"Or, crazy as it sounds, you actually put some work in on your painting? I know that might be a wild idea, but considering you're an artist and all, maybe it's something worth considering."

"Babe," said Marcus, standing up and putting his hand on Adelaide's shoulder and speaking the tone one might use with a child. "You know you can't just rush the muse like that. She comes when she wants."

"Augh!" shouted Adelaide, stomping her foot and storming out of the living room.

 

Adelaide was furious. Marcus, her boyfriend of almost six months, was the latest in a series of artists that she'd gotten involved with over the last few years since her time began at college. It always seemed to go the same way for her: she'd be taken immediately by their passion and talent, then she'd get wrapped up in their romantic world of art and inspiration, then something more serious would develop.

But as soon as she got the chance to look behind the curtain at what their lives were really like, she'd found that just about everything about them was a front. Sure, they could turn out a painting or piece of music every now and then, but as soon as they began to start settling, they'd invariably turn into big children who depended on Adelaide's responsible personality.

"You know, you could get a freaking part-time job," shot Adelaide. "I know that sitting around watching cartoons and getting high is probably a really integral part of your creative process, but you could at least pick up a few hours at a restaurant or something here and there!"

And, just like the rest of them, Marcus seemed to be allergic to the idea of work.

"Ad," said Marcus from the living room, "you know I can't do that. What if the muse hits while I'm in the middle of a shift or something? What am I supposed to do, just let inspiration slip through my fingers or something?"

Adelaide looked around the bedroom at the few paintings that Marcus had begun over the last few months. They showed obvious talent, but not a single one was anything close to being finished. The paintings were nothing more than monuments to Marcus' lack of drive, focus, and work ethic. Adelaide could hardly stand to look at them.

Marcus strolled casually into the bedroom, not seeming like he was bothered in the slightest by anything Adelaide had said. Her eyes scanned his body, noting his slim frame, his ropy muscles, and the tattoos that decorated his skin here and there. His long, sable hair draped over his shoulders, and his steely gray bedroom eyes regarded Adelaide with a playful look, one that seemed to suggest that they cut the bullshit and get right to the makeup sex.

Goddamnit, she thought, why do these loser artists all have to be so fucking hot?

She shook her head, determined not to let her libido get the better of her.

"Normal people work and pursue what they want in their free time," said Adelaide. "Or they go to school. Or they do something. But you think you're too good for any of that, huh? You think that you're a special, precious little artist who doesn't have to work, who can just sponge off people who actually show some responsibility, huh?"

"No, babe," he said, "that's not what this is about."

Then, an expression of realization flashed over his face, as if he'd just remembered something.

"Um…" he said, now looking sheepish.

"What?" demanded Adelaide. "What is it?"

"Do you think…um, you could spot me for rent this month? Kinda remembered I went through the last of the money from my last sale."

That was it. Adelaide's vision turned red, and rage began to take her over. She didn't care how sexy he was, how talented he was, or how good he was in bed – she wanted him gone, long gone.

"Get out!" shouted Adelaide, shoving Marcus into the hallway.

"Wait, what?" stammered Marcus, clearly shocked.

"I said, get the fuck out!"

Adelaide stormed into the living room, gathering up Marcus's junk in her arms, then opening the front door and tossing it all out onto the lawn.

"Whoa, babe!" said Marcus, following on her heels. "Let's talk about this or something! Just cool out!"

"I'm not going to cool out," said Adelaide, trying to keep her voice cool as she marched to the bedroom. "I'm going to get your shitty little bag of clothes from the bedroom and put them right next to the rest of your crap. Then you can get the hell out of here and go crash on the couch at one of your loser friends'."

And that's just what she did. Grabbing Marcus' clothes by the handful, she shoved them into the ratty duffel that had moved in two months ago. Nearly everything he owned could be fit into that bag, and Adelaide was quick to shove everything in there.

"Seriously, babe," said Marcus. "It's just one month. I'll sell something soon and then I can pay you back. I swear!"

Adelaide wasn't in the mood for any promises. She tossed the bag with a heave onto the front porch and pointed toward it.

"Now go," she said.

"But…what about my art?"

"Come get it some other time; I don't care. But you're gone."

Marcus lowered his head in defeat. Seeing him give him so passively struck Adelaide as a little pathetic. She couldn't believe that this schlub in pajama pants was the same passionate artist for which she'd fallen so hard.

Snatching his bong off the floor, Marcus started toward the door.

"You know, when I've got a show at the Met in New York, you're gonna feel really stupid about what you're doing."

"I'm more than happy to cross that bridge when I come to it."

With that, Marcus stepped out onto porch and Adelaide slammed the door behind him.

Good riddance! she thought as soon as the door shut.

But as soon as the reality of what she'd done hit her, Adelaide felt suddenly alone. Part of her wanted to open the door back up and call out to Marcus, giving him one more in a long series of last chances.

Just be strong, she thought, going through the living room and cleaning up the mess that Marcus had left.

Then, a chime sounded from her purse.

Gotta be Marcus, she thought, picking her bag up and going through it. Couldn't even wait five minutes before begging to come back.

To her surprise, however, she saw that it was a text from Maddie, her best friend.

Hey, girl! What's up?

Part of Adelaide wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, that it was just business as usual. Adelaide was the type who hated to burden other people with her problems, but she realized that, in this case, it was something that was going to come out eventually.

Her fingers dancing over the phone keypad, she explained the events of the last few minutes.

I've been waiting for you to ditch that loser! Bout damn time! Let's celebrate with some drinks!

Adelaide fired off a quick response.

I don't know…I think I just want the evening to get used to everything.

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

BS. Come out for drinks with Kate and me. Better than sitting at home sulking. And this way you won't have any moments of weakness and call him back up or something stupid like that.

Adelaide realized that Maddie was right. Staying home alone would likely mean a bottle of wine and some sad music, and she'd been through enough similar situations to know that, by the time the bottle was just about empty, texting Marcus would start to seem like a good idea.

OK, fine. When and where?

Then the response.

Eight o'clock. Meet us at Mick's.

Adelaide's stomach sank a bit. Mick's was one of the local biker bars, and not exactly the most welcoming place for college kids like them. But Adelaide was now determined to get out of the house and try to have a little fun, so she simply sent back a confirmation text.

After cleaning up the rest of Marcus' mess, as well as getting his art supplies and unfinished paintings ready to hand over, Adelaide started on getting ready. She spent a little time fussing over what to wear, keeping in mind that the sorts of guys that frequented Mick's weren't the harmless college guys who'd maybe be bold enough to smile at her from across the bar. The men at Mick's were the type with tattoos, muscles, and long beards – the kind of guys who looked like their preferred method of courtship was to throw girls over their shoulders and take them out back to have their way with them.

Adelaide realized with a sly smirk that this actually didn't sound so terrible.

Bad girl, she thought, going through her clothes. No rebounds tonight. Just go out and get some good girl time in. Guys are the last thing you need right now.

Adelaide decided on a pair of skinny blue jeans, a nice white blouse, and a pair of black flats. She regarded her features in the mirror, noting her catlike green eyes, dark hair, and lips that she'd always felt were too big and full for her face.

Not much I can do about all that, she thought, putting on a bit of makeup.

An hour later, she walked into Mick's. The place was a standard dive bar with pool tables, neon beer signs, and rock music playing on the jukebox. A couple dozen bikers were here and there; drinking, playing pool and darts, and carrying on, their eyes latching onto Adelaide as she walked past. Seedy smiles formed on their faces as they ate her alive with their eyes. Adelaide found herself wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

Finally, she found Maddie and Kate seated at a small table in the corner, both of them waving eagerly to get Adelaide's attention.

"There she is!" shouted Maddie, a petite blonde with a girl-next-door face with a bikini model's body.

"We were, like, this close to thinking you'd given in and called Marcus or something," said Kate, a waifish girl with dark, curly hair and a face of classical beauty.

"Are you serious?" said Adelaide? "I'm not even ten minutes late."

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be out of character for you to give up and call up whatever artist you just ditched for a goodbye screw or something," said Maddie before taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

"That's total BS," said Adelaide. "I don't do that."

"Are you kidding?" said Kate, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "What was that one guy's name, that guy who made the sculptures out of cans or something?"

"Oh, God," said Maddie. "Paul, Peter – some bible name."

"Preston," said Adelaide, the memory of him rushing back into her thoughts.

"You broke up with him for, what, spending two weeks straight taking acid or something? And how long did that last for?"

"Um," said Adelaide, "well, there were a few false starts, but I eventually kicked his ass out."

"Yeah," said Kate. "'Eventually', being the key word here."

Adelaide shook her head as she scanned the bar. The place was wall-to-wall bikers, each seeming eager to have their chance with one of the three cute college girls who'd just walked in. Or maybe even all three of them.

"So what," said Adelaide, still feeling a little nervous, "you guys figured that being around hard-ass bikers was the best way for me to get over Marcus?"

"Well," said Maddie, "we were planning on coming here anyway. But maybe hooking up with one of these guys would do you some good. Not a tortured artist in sight."

"I can't believe you guys come here," said Adelaide. "It's like you're asking for trouble."

"That's the whole point," said Kate. "These guys here? They're real men. Not like those boys at school with their baseball caps and oversized hoodies and used Honda Civics that their parents bought for them or whatever."

"Yeah," said Maddie. "These are guys who'll take you out of here on their bikes and screw you like you've never been screwed before."

"Oh my God," said Kate. "This guy I met here a couple of weeks ago, he was like-"

Then, she held up her hands to indicate the size of his cock.

"No way," said Mattie. "You're lying."

"Totally serious."

Adelaide chuckled.

"You guys are the worst."

Maddie and Kate were Adelaide's best friends in New Orleans and the closest thing to family she had in this city. Her adopted parents lived out in Florida, and Adelaide wasn't the best at keeping in contact with them. And since she never had the closest of relationships with them, it wasn't surprising to her how distant she'd grown from them since they moved out of the state when Adelaide decided to stay for school.

"OK, who've you got your eye on," said Maddie, scanning the crowd.

"Oh, easy," said Kate. "That guy at the pool table, the one who's like, seven feet tall."

Adelaide looked at the man Kate was referring to. He was a tall, strapping, tough-looking man with slicked-back red hair, arms covered in tattoos, and a handsome face partially hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

"That's a good one," said Maddie. "I want the guy at the bar, the one with the giant fucking arms."

"OK, what about you, Ad?" said Kate.

"Um, not really sure," she said. "I don't think any of these guys here are really my type, you know?"

Maddie rolled her eyes.

"You're only saying that because you still haven't gotten a drink. Be right back."

With that, Maddie sprang up from her seat and walked seductively to the bar, taking a place by the man she'd had her eye on. Adelaide watched as Maddie flashed him a sly look, the two of them chatting for a moment. Then, the man handed the bartender some money, and a tray of drinks was placed in front of Maddie. She returned to the table with a pleased expression on her face, and Adelaide could see the man at the bar watching her walk away, his eyes very, very interested.

"That's another thing I like about this place," said Maddie. "Easy as hell to get free drinks."

Adelaide couldn't help but laugh. Maddie placed a new drink along with a shot of whiskey in front of each of them, and with a cheers, the night was on. An hour or so passed, and Adelaide and the girls went through another couple rounds of drinks. The music picked up, the bar filled up more, and soon, Maddie and Kate were in the mood to dance. Taking their drinks from the table, they headed off toward their chosen bikers and went in for the kill.

"Next round's on you, Ad!" said Maddie. "And I don't want to hear that you paid for it!"

Adelaide's stomach tightened. She'd never really considered herself good at flirting and getting drinks out of guys never came as easily to her as it did to Maddie and Kate. Nevertheless, she was feeling drunk and confident. She approached the bar, standing between a couple bikers, and got the bartender's attention.

"Now what the fuck is a little college girl piece of ass like you doing in a place like this?"

The voice to her right was booming and deep. Adelaide turned toward the man and found that her eyes only went to his chest. She craned her neck up to look at the biker and saw that he was tall, ugly as sin, and fat as hell. Raunchy tattoos snaked up his neck and onto his face, and he was dressed head-to-toe in leather.

"These're on me," he said, shoving a couple of twenties toward the bartender.

Then his piggy eyes scanned Adeline up and down slowly.

"And I can think of something else I'd like on me," he said, his slug-like lips forming into a skeevy smile. "Call me Bulk – that's what everyone else does.”

Panic gripped Adelaide. She wasn't interested in the slightest by this man, and even felt a little threatened by him. But she got the impression he was the type who wasn't likely to take no for an answer. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, trying to spot Maddie and Kate, but she couldn't find them among the dancing crowds.

"Um, thanks for the drinks, uh, Bulk," said Adelaide. "But I gotta get back to my friends now."

Bulk shook his head.

"See, where I come from, if a man buys a girl a drink, then she owes him a little bit of her time. Now, have a seat and let me get to know you a little better."

"You know what?" said Adelaide, "you can just have the drinks. I gotta go."

She turned to leave, but before she could even take a step, Bulk's hand shot out with a surprising quickness. He latched onto her wrist and held her in place.

"Sit that little ass of yours down. Now."

Panic rushed through Adelaide. She realized that there was nothing she could do. Bulk's face was twisted into an expression of frustrated anger, like that of a kid who wasn't getting what he wanted. But this kid was six-six and three hundred pounds.

"Let me go!" protested Adelaide.

"Not a fucking chance," said Bulk. "You're mine."

But before Adelaide could say or do anything else, a large hand clapped down onto Bulk's shoulder. Adelaide's eyes shot up to the hand's owner, and she saw that he was a tall, built man dressed in a tight white t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and defined pecs and a pair of dark jeans and combat boots. His hair was slicked back and as dark as India ink, and his face was so gorgeous that Adelaide couldn't believe it was real. His eyes were an icy blue, his lips were full and sensual, and his jaw was wide and strong. Adelaide couldn't tell his age, but he looked to be in his late thirties.

"Don't think she's interested, buddy," said the man, his voice low and rich.

Bulk shifted his weight around and looked hard at the man.

"What the fuck you think you're doing, asshole?" said Bulk. "How about you back the fuck off."

"Not gonna happen," said the man. "See, I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. And old-fashioned guys like me know that when a girl's got a look like that on her face, one that I would call ‘abject terror,' it means they want you to leave them the fuck alone. So, I'm gonna make sure that's exactly what happens."

"The only thing that's gonna happen," said Bulk, “is that you get the fuck out of my goddamn face, pretty boy, and leave me to my woman."

The man shook his head.

"And because I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy," he said, "I'm gonna give you one last warning before I drop your ass to the floor. So, here it is: back the fuck off, and leave the girl alone."

Bulk took a step closer to the man, shoving him with his big, round belly. Adelaide watched with fear as he got as close as possible to the man.

"Fuck. You," he said.

"Hate to do things this way," said the man, "but you asked for it."

With lightning speed, the man pulled back his fist and sent it into Bulk's face in a tight arc. The fist connected, a sick crack sounding out through the bar. Bulk flew backward as soon as the fist hit him, moving faster than Adelaide would've guessed a fat man like him would've been able to. Bulk fell onto the floor in a heap, and the crowd around them yelled and whooped at the action.

Adelaide watched Bulk as he lay still on the floor, looking like a truck had just slammed into him. Eventually, a few of his friends arrived and, with a team effort, heaved him from the ground and dragged him out of the bar. Adelaide's heart raced, and she put her hand on the side of the bar to steady herself.

"You OK?" asked the man.

As Adelaide took in the sight of her savior, her heart picked up even more than before.

Holy fuck, she thought, this guy's goddamn gorgeous.

"Um, I think so," said Adelaide.

The man reached forward and took one of Adelaide's hands into his. The feeling of his skin against hers was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was chemistry in the purest sense.

"Your hands are shaking," he said. "You need a minute. You alone here?"

"I'm here with my friends, but they're a little, uh, distracted at the moment."

"Name's Thorne," said the man.

"Adelaide," she replied.

"Adelaide," he said, as if trying the name on for size. "Now, that's a pretty name. Like something from another time."

"I'm sure an old-fashioned guy like you appreciates it, then."

One side of Thorne's mouth pulled up into a smile, which had to be the most charming smile Adelaide had ever seen in her life.

"You'd be right about that."

"A real gentleman, too," said Adelaide, taking one of the drinks that Bulk had bought her and placing it in front of Thorne. "Here, I think you've earned this. That is, unless you're too old-fashioned to let a girl buy a drink for you."

"Well, to be accurate, you didn't buy it for me. That brick wall of a gentleman currently being loaded into the back of a car did."

"Maybe you should go out and thank him," said Adelaide.

"I think he and I have done all the conversing we need to do for one night. Who knows – maybe this'll be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Adelaide smiled. Thorne was…something else. He had an easy confidence in him, as well as charm. And after a few moments of them talking, she realized she already felt safer, more at ease.

"You from here, Mr. Old-Fashioned?" asked Adelaide, taking a sip of her drink.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Here from New York. In town on business."

"Business, huh? What kind of business is that?"

"The kind that if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

He flashed her another sexy little grin.

"New York, huh?" said Adelaide. "And you're here all the way down in humble New Orleans. Must be quite the change of pace."

"Maybe a little less than you'd think," said Thorne. "Drunken bar assholes are still drunken bar assholes. But the girls…I might have to reevaluate which city has the most beautiful women after meeting you."

Adelaide felt a hot rush of blood run up her neck. Between the alcohol and the attraction she felt for Thorne, she was beginning to feel overwhelmed, like she was about to make a decision that she almost didn't have any control over.

"Hey!" said the bartender, approaching Adelaide. "You know those two girls?"

The bartender gestured into the crowd, toward Maddie and Kate.

"Oh, fuck," said Adelaide.

Maddie and Kate looked like they were having a little too much fun. A drink in each of their hands, the two girls stumbled here and there, bumping into tables, and sending glasses crashing to the ground.

"Friends of yours?" asked Thorne.

"Yup," said Adelaide. "Friends who can't hold their damn alcohol."

"Well," said Thorne. "I'll leave you to play grown-up."

And just like that, Thorne got up to leave.

"Wait!" said Adelaide. "Um, you, uh, come here often?"

She couldn't believe what she'd just said. But it was the only thing she could think to say.

"Good night, Adelaide," he said. "Maybe we'll meet again."

With that, he headed out of the bar, Adelaide's eyes on him the entire time. She felt as though she was watching someone very important walk out of her life.

But another crash ringing out behind her brought her back to reality. Adelaide hurried into the crowd and pulled out her friends.

"H-hey, girl," slurred Maddie. "You get any good biker dick?"

"Good lord," said Adelaide, taking one of her friends in each arm and leading them out of the bar.

She couldn't believe how drunk they'd gotten, and how irresponsible they were being for getting so out of control in a place like that. Adelaide led the two girls to Maddie's car and got them both into the back seat. Soon, she was behind the steering wheel and driving out of the parking lot.

The girls passed out as soon as they were in the back, and Adelaide spent the rest of the drive in silence, her mind locked onto Thorne. She still couldn't get over just how attracted to him she was; the pull was so sudden and intense, and like nothing else she'd ever experienced. But he was gone, without even so much as leaving her his number.

She did her best to put all of that out of her mind as she drove through the darkened roads of rural New Orleans. After a time, she arrived at Maddie's and dropped the two girls off. She considered crashing there, but after everything that had happened that day, the only thing Adelaide wanted was to go home and crash in her own bed, and wake up in the silence of her now-empty apartment. Nursing two hungover girls in the morning didn't sound like her idea of a good time.

Adelaide's place was a little ways off, about a twenty-minute walk through the college neighborhood where she and her friends lived. She spent the walk thinking more about the day, wondering if she'd made the right call in ditching Marcus.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had.

It's Thorne, she thought. He was older, sure, but he was…just a real man. He was handsome, carried himself like a damned grown-up and didn't look like the kind of man to ask his girlfriend to cover rent.

The image of Thorne fresh in her mind, she wondered how she could ever go back to dating immature boys like Marcus. The mere thought was almost enough to turn her stomach.

But as she walked, a strange feeling of dread began to dawn on her. She could've sworn that she was seeing things out of the corner of her eye, figures moving among the shadows. The hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end, and she felt her stomach tighten. A branch let out a sharp, wooden crack as something, or someone, stepped on it.

It's nothing, she thought, pulling her jacket tight.

As much as she wanted to convince herself otherwise, however, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Adelaide stopped in her tracks and looked around. But there was nothing but the low howl of the wind. The houses lining the lonely street were all dark, and only a few streetlamps illuminated her way.

Just hurry up and get home, she thought to herself. You're being one of those paranoid women who thinks there's a rapist in every bush and behind every tree.

Despite her scolding, Adelaide found the pace of her steps increase. She hurried to the nearest block and turned down an alley that cut across to her street.

Almost there, she thought, almost there.

But little did she know, it wasn't merely one person watching her, but several. All of whom had no intention of letting her come home.

CHAPTER 3

"What's the situation, boss?"

The voice of Corvo piped into Thorne's ear. Thorne was positioned far behind the target, but close enough he could keep an eye on her as she made her way down the sidewalk.

"She's picked up the pace," said Thorne, keeping his voice low. "She knows something's up."

Thorne was alone for this op, the rest of the crew back in New York and keeping a close eye on the situation from Siler Talon HQ. They weren't happy to be stuck in the city while Thorne did the in-person work, but Thorne had his reasons.

"I don't like this, boss," said Jace. "This op has ‘fucking weird' written all over it. And you're thousands of miles away all by yourself."

"Sweet of you to care," said Thorne, his tone sardonic, "but I can handle myself. And as much as I just love you all's company, I don't think having five shifters down here for a pick-up operation is all that necessary."

"But what if I was looking forward to seeing the sights?" said Hoxson jokingly. "Eat some crawfish, take in some New Orleans jazz…"

"Then you'll have to tell Mick you've got a place in mind when you're deciding on where to go for your honeymoon," said Jace.

"Fuck you!" said Mick and Hoxson in unison.

"Keep the chatter down," said Thorne, his tone stern despite the smile pulling up one of the corners of his mouth.

As the team had their back and forth, Thorne couldn't help but notice that Aurelius was being very quiet. Sure, he wasn't normally the type to join in on the usual team banter, but he seemed even more focused than usual. Thorne put the thought out of his head, not wanting to distract himself with pointless speculation.

He kept a careful eye on Adelaide, moving silently from vantage point to vantage point as she made her way down the sidewalk.

Then, suddenly, she stopped in place and look around.

"What is it?" asked Corvo, apparently noticing that Thorne had stayed in place for a prolonged period of time.

"She stopped," said Thorne. "She's looking around like she's noticed something."

"You think she's on to you?" asked Mick?

"No way," said Thorne. "I'm a good distance from her, and she's not a shifter so there's no way she can pick up on my scent."

Thorne watched as Adelaide tilted her head up slightly, as if taking in something from the air. He'd just said that she wasn't able to smell him, but she was sure acting like she'd noticed something strange. It all struck Thorne as very, very odd.

"I'm getting in closer," said Thorne. "Something's weird."

"Be careful, boss," said Corvo.

Thorne made a quick dash to a waist-high fence closer to Adelaide and took cover behind it. From his closer vantage point, he had a clearer view of the target. Despite himself, his heart skipped a beat as he laid eyes on her.

She was, after all, beyond beautiful.

Thorne's eyes lingered on Adelaide's profile, taking in her slim, pert nose, her full, ripe lips, and her narrow, cat-like eyes. Then his gaze drifted down slowly, moving eagerly along the curves of her body, spending extra time on her breasts and ass.

Girl looking like that wandering around at night, thought Thorne. What the hell is she thinking?

He focused on the safety aspect of Adelaide, but deep down, he knew there was something more to why he was focusing so intently on her looks. There was something special about this girl, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

She's hot as fuck is what it is, thought Thorne. But that's nothing to get distracted over.

Right as the thought faded from his mind, however, Thorne caught the scent of something on the wind. He held fast for a moment, taking a long, slow sniff of the air. The scent was a strange combination of metal and lilacs.

Thorne recognized it immediately as that of another shifter.

"We got another dragon nearby," said Thorne, his heartbeat picking up to a steady thud in his chest.

He kept his eyes on Adelaide and saw that she'd started moving again. But now she moved at a quick pace, making her way down the sidewalk as though she wanted to get away as fast as possible.

Did she smell that same scent? thought Thorne. No, there's no way – humans can't detect dragons unless we're fuckin' fully shifted and standing right in front of them.

"What?" shot out Jace, her voice worried. "Are you serious? Another fucking shifter?"

Thorne took another long sniff of the air. There was no mistaking the scent.

Fuck, fuck, he thought, wondering if his decision to go this op alone was the wisest.

"Boss, I'm detecting something through the satellite feed," said Aurelius, his prim voice coming clear through the comms. "Movement about a hundred meters to your left, in that abandoned lot."

Thorne's eyes shot in that direction. Sure enough, among the unkempt grass and thick-trunked trees, Thorne spotted something moving. He realized that whoever it was, it was no coincidence that some other dragon happened to be here – they were likely after the same target that he was.

A good chance they wouldn't be too thrilled to see another dragon here, too, thought Thorne.

Turning his attention back to Adelaide, he hurried down the length of the sidewalk, trying to keep pace with her. According to his information, her place was only a couple more miles from where they were currently located. He knew he had to get her before she got home – turning this op into a breaking and entering sort of affair would draw far more attention than he wanted.

There was still the matter of the second shifter, however.

"He's on the move, boss," said Hoxson, his voice tinged with worry. "He's close enough that we can detect him with your sensors."

Thorne shot a quick glance to Adelaide, then to the approaching shifter. He had to make a decision fast – to either swoop in on Adelaide and get her before she arrived back at her place, or to confront the new shifter.

"Boss, you gotta do something," said Hoxson.

Frustrated and not wanting to deal with any distractions, Thorne turned off his comms and started across the street to confront the shifter. He realized that if he was going to take out this shifter, he had to do it while he was still in the abandoned lot, away from any potential witnesses. Thorne rushed across the street, the scent of the shifter becoming more powerful with each step. He came to a stop at the edge of the lot and swept the expanse over with a look.

"Who the fuck is here?" he growled. "Get up and show yourself."

For a moment, there was no movement but the wind through the overgrown grass and the dangling branches. Then, a shrouded figure stood up in the distance.

"Thorne Lewis?" asked the figure, his voice high and inquisitive.

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Thorne. "Tell me who you are and what the hell you're doing here!"

But the figure stayed statue-still. After a few moments, however, the man stepped forward through the grass, out of the shadows and into the silver light of the moon overhead. Whoever this man was, he was dressed sharply in a slick suit, his frame slender and menacing. His face was tall and thin and all hard angles. His eyes were green slivers, and his hair was as blonde as straw. His slim mouth was twisted into a devious expression.

Thorne knew right away that whoever this man was, he wasn't here to chat.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?" asked the man, stepped slowly toward Thorne. "You simply took the job, came down here, and aren't giving the matter a second thought beyond what you're going to buy with your payday?"

Thorne narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into tight fists.

"Personally, I don't give a fuck who you are and what you have to say. As far as I can tell, you're just some asshole shifter standing between me and getting the job done."

The man only chuckled.

"Exactly what I was expecting to hear," he said. "Thorne Lewis – one of the best mercs in the business, doesn't give a damn about anything but getting the job done. Anything for money."

Thorne was getting more impatient by the moment. He knew that each second that passed was another step the target took toward getting home and out of his reach.

"You here to bore me to death or what?" demanded Thorne. "Because if you're just gonna talk your fucking head off then I'm gonna get the hell out of here and do my goddamn job."

The man held up his hand.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Lewis. You see, you and I have the same assignment. That girl, this Ms. Wilson, you're not the only merc who's after her."

"What?" shot out Thorne. "What the hell are you talking about? Actually, you know what? I don't give a shit."

The man shook his head as if disappointed.

"You know," he said, "one day, you might find that your policy of only caring about getting paid wasn't the wisest call to make. You just might find yourself in the middle of situations you don't understand."

The man's smirk then turned into an even more sinister smile.

"And that day could very well be today."

With that, the man darted from his position with lightning speed, cutting the distance between him and Thorne.

Goddamn, he's fast, thought Thorne, struggling to keep tabs on where the man was going. I need to m-urk!

The thud of a fist into Thorne's gut cut him off mid-thought. The impact felt to Thorne like a small semi-truck driving right into his breadbasket at full speed. He staggered backward, struggling to catch the air that'd been blown out of his lungs by the punch. Then, another blow landed, this time on Thorne's upper back. The force dropped Thorne to his hands and knees, and he struggled to regain his bearings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sleek, polished shoes of the man as he moved through the grass just to Thorne's right. Thorne was being circled slowly by a predator who was prepared to move in for the kill.

"You know," said the shifter, "when I learned that the great Thorne Lewis was going to be my adversary on this mission, I was a bit worried for a moment. I thought that I might have a little bit of trouble on my hands. After all, you're one of the most ruthless men in the game. How disappointed I am to see you on your hands and knees like this, struggling for breath."

Keep talking, asshole, thought Thorne.

"Oh well," the man continued. "So much the better for me. Farewell, Mr. Lewis."

With that, the man raised his fist in the air, preparing to bring it down hard on the back of Thorne's neck.

But he wasn't quick enough.

As the fist came down, Thorne moved, with expert fluidity, out of the way, the fist crashing down onto the ground so hard that vibrations rippled through the earth. Thorne saw a shocked expression appear on the man's face, his green eyes now wide with surprise.

"Farewell, asshole," said Thorne.

He then rushed in, pulled his fist back, and slammed it into the man's face as hard as he could. Thorne felt the crunch of bone and the tearing of skin under his knuckles, and he knew that his punch had done the job. The man flew backward, landing in a heap among the grass. Approaching him slowly, Thorne saw that man was now sprawled helplessly on the ground, his face a mess of blood.

Thorne knew better than to gloat in the way his opponent did. Without a moment's hesitation, Thorne reached down, grabbed the shifter's neck, and gave it a quick twist. Just like that, the man was dead. Within seconds, the man's body began to crumble into dust, leaving behind skeletal remains. If Thorne had any doubts that this man was a dragon shifter, they'd just been dispelled.

Once he'd confirmed that the enemy was down, he flipped back on his comms and started off in the direction of Adelaide.

"Boss! Boss!" shouted Corvo. "You there?"

"You know I'm here," Thorne said. "You've got all my vitals right in front of you."

"You went out for a few minutes," said Jace. "You cool?"

As Thorne ran, waves of pain ran through his body from where the shifter had struck him. He knew that it wasn't anything to be concerned about, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

"Just had to kill some lone-wolf merc, but other than that, yeah, I'm cool."

"We're showing that it's just you out there," said Aurelius.

Thorne thought he might've just been imagining things, but he could've sworn that there was an edge of frustration to Aurelius' voice. But he quickly put the idea out of his head.

"Just me and the target," he said. "Assuming she hasn't gone into hiding."

"Nope," said Corvo. "We got her on the feed right now. She's hoofing it back to her apartment, but she's not there yet."

"Good," said Thorne, still hurrying in the direction that he last saw her. "I'll have her in a minute."

Thorne's mind raced with what had just happened. Seeing some other merc here meant that this op wasn't just some personal project of the Abruzzi – it was something much more than that. And whoever this girl was, she was someone important.

And the way she smelled the dragon scent in the air, thought Thorne. What the hell does that mean? Humans can't detect us like that.

He cleared his mind as best he could. All his attention now had to be on extracting the target without drawing attention to himself. He hurried through the alley leading to the street where Adelaide lived, turning the corner and catching a glance of her.

Gotcha, he thought, running silently as he cut the distance between him and her.

Soon, he was only a few dozen feet behind her. Just as before, she stopped and sniffed the air. Then, she turned around on her heels, a can of mace in her hand and raised toward Thorne.

"Stop!" she shouted. "You take another step and…and…I'll fucking mace you!"

Then she realized just who she was facing down, and her expression crinkled in surprise.

"It's you!" she said. "Thorne! From the bar!"

"That's right," said Thorne before rushing with blinding speed to Adelaide. "And you're coming with me."

He placed his hand over her mouth and rendered her unconscious within moments. The target secured, Thorne hurried toward his ride.

CHAPTER 4

Everything passed for Adelaide in a blur. She slipped in and out of consciousness, only faint glimpses of whatever else was around her sticking in her mind. Eventually, she came to in a strange room. Looking around the place, she saw that it was a well-appointed bedroom decorated with upscale, modern furniture. The window looked out onto a wide stretch of lawn. Even the bed was surprisingly soft.

There was only one problem: she was tied down to the posts.

Adelaide opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out but a muffled cry. Not only was she tied down, she'd been gagged. Fear gripped her, and she frantically tried to piece together the last events she remembered in order to figure out just what the hell was going on.

OK, she thought, attempting to calm herself. I remember the bar. I remember the girls getting way too drunk. I remember that gross asshole trying to hit on me. I remember…

The realization hit her hard.

Thorne.

The next hour of memories came back in pieces. She remembered walking toward her home, feeling like she was being followed. Adelaide recalled, with clarity, that strange smell, metal and flowers. The rest of the walk home was spotty, but she did remember the last thing she saw before she was knocked out: Thorne.

She struggled against her restraints, every instinct in her body telling her that she was in major danger, that she needed to do everything she could to get the hell out of this place where she was being held and get to the nearest police station. But whoever had tied her down did a hell of a job at it; she realized quickly that there was no way she'd be able to get herself free.

After a time, a heavy thud sounded from the door, and the knob twisted. The door opened slowly, and Adelaide watched with frightened eyes just who was about to enter.

Sure enough, it was Thorne. She struggled again against her restraints as Thorne entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her with a mildly annoyed expression, as though he were watching a kid throw a fit after not getting her way.

"Now," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "I can take that gag off your mouth but let me make something clear: we're in a massive house on an even bigger lot, miles away from anyone else. You can scream all you want, but it's not going to do any good. It'll just wear out your throat and annoy the shit out of me in the process. So, if I take that off, you're gonna have to promise me that you're not gonna shriek in my fucking ear when I do it. Got it?"

Her eyes wet with tears, Adelaide nodded slowly.

Thorne then approached her, reached down, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

Without any control on her part, Adelaide let out a scream of terror.

"Fuck!" shouted Thorne. "What the hell did I just say?"

But before Thorne could put the gag back on, Adelaide calmed herself and stopped screaming. Her chest rose and fell as she took breath after breath, and her eyes were fixed on Thorne. He stood still for a moment, as if making sure she wasn't going to make another noise.

"There," he said, nodding slowly. "Much better."

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Adelaide. "And why am I here?"

She feared the worst, that she was being kidnapped by some psycho murderer who wanted to kill her and cut her into little pieces – after raping her, of course. But the more her mind raced with horrible possibilities, the more she felt that Thorne didn't mean her any harm. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't sense danger from him.

"You're here because I was paid to bring you here," said Thorne. "And that's all you need to know."

"All I need to know?" asked Adelaide. "You kidnap me and tie me up, and then you tell me that I don't need to know anything?"

"That's pretty much what I just said, isn't it?"

Adelaide scowled.

"Let me go. Now."

"Not gonna happen," said Thorne, crossing his arms over his chest. "My clients want you, and they're paying a huge fucking payout for me to bring you to them. So, that's what I'm going to do."

"What? What clients? Where?"

"New York," said Thorne. "Once things cool down here, that's where we're going."

Silence hung in the air as Adelaide attempted to process everything that was happening.

"Now," said Thorne. "I'm sure you want to get out of those restraints, but I'm not going to do it unless you promise to cooperate."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you don't try any bullshit," said Thorne.

"Like escape?"

"Escape's not what I'm worried about," he said. "Like I said, we're out in the middle of nowhere, and I've got this place locked up like a fortress. Even if you did manage to sneak out, even if you did manage to get past the fence, you'd be stuck in the middle of miles of bayou. No way you'd manage to find your way to the nearest town.

"No," he continued, "what I'm talking about is you trying to sneak up on me with a knife or a frying pan or some shit. You seem like the type, so let me just say, it wouldn't work out well for you, and hope that's enough."

Attacking Thorne and getting the hell out of here was on Adelaide's mind, but she could sense that he wasn't screwing around. He was about twice her size, after all, and an overpowering muscle-bound man like him wasn't someone it looked like she'd have an easy time with. 

"Now," said Thorne. "You ready to play nice, kiddo? Because one fuck-up and you're going right back in those restraints. Got it?"

Adelaide realized that she didn't have another option. She sighed then nodded. Thorne reached down and undid the restraints one by one, Adelaide rubbing the raw skin as soon it was exposed. Once all the restraints were undone, she scrambled to a sitting position at the headboard, tucking herself into a tight ball. Thorne still standing over her, Adelaide shivered with fear.

"Come on now," he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"How the hell do I know that?"

"Because I would've done it already. My job is to bring you to New York without a scratch on you, and I'm not about to fuck up my payday."

"Then you're, what, some kind of escort?"

"In this particular case I am," he said. "But I'm a mercenary. Clients pay me to do whatever they need. In this case, I'm something like a bodyguard, I guess."

He thought about it for a moment.

"And that's truer than you know; I had to fight off some other asshole when I snatched you up. And he didn't seem like the type who'd treat you all that nicely."

"What?" asked Adelaide. "Someone else?"

"We can talk about it in a minute," he said. "But let's get the fuck out of this bedroom. Too cramped for my tastes."

He extended his hand toward Adelaide and, with a moment of hesitation, she took it. Thorne effortlessly pulled her off the bed, and she took a moment to steady herself on her feet. Thorne had already left the bedroom by the time she finally felt right enough to walk, and she scrambled after him with all the grace of a newborn deer.

Stepping out into the hallway, Adelaide gasped. The house was one of those old mansions that dotted the Louisiana landscape, and a quick scan of the place gave her the impression that it was easily a hundred years old, if not older. The main entryway was a grand hall, a massive chandelier hanging from the rotunda ceiling. The décor was a strange mixture of modern and old, with oil-paintings of aristocrats hanging above modern furniture.

"This place is…pretty amazing," said Adelaide, following Thorne down the stately spiral staircase in the middle of the entrance hall.

"Sure is," said Thorne. "And it's just one of the many homes my clients own. Told me they hadn't used it in years, so I might as well put it to good use if I'm gonna be in the area."

Adelaide followed Thorne through the hallway, then through the elegant living room, finally ending up in a large kitchen full of modern, stainless steel appliances. The space was filled with natural light, and the large bay windows looked out over the massive, emerald grass of the backyard. Adelaide spotted a huge, rectangular pool in the back, the water as blue as sapphires.

"Just…who are these clients?" asked Adelaide. "And what do they want with me?"

"I told you, I get paid to do what my clients ask. And part of the reason why I get paid so much is that I don't ask questions that I don't need to know the answers to."

"So…" said Adelaide, worry creeping into her voice, "how do I know that these clients aren't going to, um…"

She didn't want to finish the sentence; it was too much for her to even say out loud.

"What, are you thinking that they're doing some kind of ‘hunting humans for sport' thing?"

A small smirk formed on Thorne's face.

"I don't know!" shouted Adelaide. "And this isn't funny! I've just been kidnapped by some asshole and now you're cracking jokes?"

"Chill out," said Thorne, placing a pair of white ceramic mugs under the spouts of a very fancy-looking coffee maker and pressing start. "We're gonna be spending at least the day with one another, and I don't feel like dealing with you freaking out."

"I think I have a right to be a little bit freaked out," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I have no idea what's going to happen to me."

"Well," said Thorne, crossing his arms as the coffee maker whirred to life, "I can tell you that this family ain't the type to go in for sadistic shit like that. Or if they were, they wouldn't go to all the trouble of paying some merc team big bucks to haul some college co-ed in all the way from fuckin' New Orleans."

The coffee maker finished, and Thorne placed a steaming cup in front of Adelaide.

"Wait, merc team?" she said, looking around. "There's more than one of you?"

"Yup," he said. "They're back in New York. You'll meet them before too long."

He then turned his attention to the coffee.

"Drink that," he said. "You're probably woozy after what I did to you?"

"What you did to me?"

"I put you to sleep," he said. "You were out for twelve hours."

"How did you do that?" asked Adelaide. "Chloroform or something?"

Thorne looked away for a brief moment.

"Just, ah, a trick of the trade."

Adelaide could tell right then that there was something that Thorne wasn't telling her. But she got the distinct impression that trying to get answers out of him would be like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. A totally pointless exercise.

And as much as she hated herself for thinking it, she couldn't take her eyes off Thorne. Her gaze was locked onto the ropy muscles of his forearms as he crossed them under his beefy chest. He wore a rugged denim button up, the sleeves rolled up, and the buttons undone just enough for her to have something to feast on with her eyes. She couldn't believe she was thinking such things in the midst of being kidnapped, but she couldn't help it –Thorne was about the hottest man she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Then what's next?" she said. "We go to New York and you just drop me off with my new…owners?"

"More or less," said Thorne. "I need to check in with the client; they're gonna want to get a good look at you. Then they'll let me know what the next move is. Hopefully, we can take off in the morning."

"How are we getting back? Plane?"

"Nope," said Thorne. "Too much heat at airports. And I don't trust you to not make a scene and get us both in some serious fucking trouble. We're gonna drive."

"Great," said Adelaide. "Twenty hours in a car with my kidnapper."

But as much as she hated to admit it, the thought thrilled her a little bit. Before she could give the matter too much consideration, however, a chime sounded through the house.

"What's that?" asked Adelaide, looking around. "Someone here?"

"No," said Thorne. "It's my clients; they're calling to check in on everything. They're going to want to take a look at you, and if you know what's good for you, you won't say a goddamn word. Got it?"

Adelaide could only nod.

Thorne took a sip of his coffee and gestured for Adelaide to follow him. He led her through the winding hallways of the home, the two of them eventually ending up in an office with dark décor, a massive TV hanging over a black marble fireplace. Thorne picked up a remote from the massive black desk in the middle of the room and flicked the TV on, the screen filling with the image of three people, an older man and a woman, and a younger man with a prim, snotty expression on his face. The three individuals all had the same elegant, aristocratic look, and all were stunningly gorgeous in their own way.

"Thorne," said the man, his voice rich and his accent old-fashioned, his eyes latching onto Adelaide, "I see that our money has thus far been well-spent."

"Mr. Abruzzi," said Thorne, his tone respectful, "good to see you. As you can see, I have the package."

Abruzzi? thought Adelaide. Is that who these people are? They seem so strange, like they're from another time.

Adelaide bristled at being referred to in such a way.

"I can see that," said the woman. "And she's looking just as fit and fine as we've been led to believe."

"That's her?" asked the younger man, who appeared to Adelaide to be about her age. "I think…she'll do nicely."

"Hush," said Mr. Abruzzi. "I didn't choose her so that you'd have someone to ogle over. You have plenty of…toys to entertain yourself with. This girl is about something more than that."

What the hell are they talking about? Adelaide thought to herself. What's this all about?

"I hear from your team that you encountered a bit of an issue last night when retrieving the package," said Mr. Abruzzi.

"Yes," said Thorne. "But nothing I wasn't able to handle."

"Good," said Mr. Abruzzi. "But this has given us reason for concern. It obviously means that we're not the only family with our eyes on this one."

Adelaide couldn't take it any longer. Being talked about like she was some piece of merchandise was more than she could stand. Bolting up from her seat, she cleared her throat and spoke.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Who the hell are you, and what you are doing with me?"

Silence fell on the room. Adelaide stood frozen for a moment, as if coming back to her senses after being possessed. Her eyes shot to Thorne, who was now glaring at her hard. The family on the TV, on the other hand, didn't seem to have been bothered in the slightest.

After a few moments, the patriarch spoke.

"I see this one has spunk," he said, his tone one of evaluation, as if he were buying a car and the salesman had just finished showing him what it could do.

"Indeed," said the woman. "Though I'm not sure if ‘spunk' is entirely what we're looking for, for what we have in mind for her."

The younger man's mouth twisted up into a pleased smile as he leaned forward.

"I like it," he said. "She already seems more interesting than the others."

They seemed to be speaking in a purposefully cagey language, and it drove Adelaide mad. It became clear to her that she wasn't going to be getting any answers. Thorne gestured for her to sit her butt back down right then and there. Adelaide realized that she had no other option but to comply.

"Are we still going to be keeping her in the dark?" asked Thorne. "Keeping both of us in the dark?"

"Need-to-know, Mr. Lewis," said Mr. Abruzzi. "Need-to-know. That lovely little specimen will have all the answers she desires once she arrives in New York. All you need to know, on the other hand, is that you'll be paid handsomely for this assignment, just as we agreed."

"Fine with me," said Thorne. "Just so long as you're not keeping anything from me. I had to fight off a fucking merc last night while I was picking this one up, after all."

"Yes," said Mr. Abruzzi. "That is a troubling development. But rest assured, we'll be giving the issue the attention that it deserves. Until then, we expect you to complete the assignment as requested. That is all."

With that, the screen turned black.

"What the fuck was that?" demanded Thorne, turning an angry glare toward Adelaide.

"I couldn't take it anymore," she said. "I couldn't stand them talking about me like that."

"Get fucking used to it," he said. "A family as powerful as they are talks to people like us however the hell they want. You're lucky they didn't seem to give a damn about you speaking out of turn like that."

"And you're just fine with all of this? Getting ordered around like some kind of attack dog?"

"It's what I'm good at," said Thorne. "What can I say?"

Adelaide harrumphed and crossed her arms under her breasts.

"I don't get how you can act like that," she said. "Just doing what other people pay you to do, not asking any questions."

"As long as the money's good, I don't give a good goddamn," said Thorne, getting up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the desk.

Adelaide wondered just what kinds of other jobs a mercenary like Thorne had performed. The effect of knowing that she was in the same room as a professional killer was strange to her. On the one hand, she was frightened. But on the other, she was a little thrilled.

"We've got the day to kill, so try to relax," said Thorne, preparing to leave.

"'Relax'?" asked Adelaide. "How the hell am I supposed to relax in a situation like this?”

Thorne shrugged.

"There's a pool out back; go sunbathe or something. Plenty of girl clothes in that bedroom you were in."

Adelaide wanted to scream. She couldn't believe Thorne was treating this like they were housesitting.

"And maybe if you're good, I'll make dinner," said Thorne with a sly smile.

And then he was gone.

Adelaide was left alone with her frustration. She was a prisoner scheduled to be sent to live with some strange family in New York the next day, and now she had nothing to do but roam around some massive house in the middle of nowhere. She wanted her phone, she wanted to talk to her friends, to tell them to come get her so she could put all this insanity behind her. But it was impossible.

She checked out the property, trying to find some avenue of escape. The more she looked, however, the more she realized that Thorne was right – there was no getting out of here. The windows and doors were all locked, the glass was made of some material too thick to break through, and even if she were able to leave, the gates surrounding the property were too tall to scale. Then there was the matter of being smack-dab in the middle of some forgotten bayou.

Might as well make the best of this, thought Adelaide.

Returning to the bedroom where she'd woken up, she went through the dressers and, sure enough, found some women's clothing. Taking a one-piece bathing suit, she grabbed a towel from the bathroom and headed outside to the pool. The door leading to the backyard was one of the few unlocked, and she was certain that Thorne was keeping a close eye on it through the house's security system.

Laying out her towel, she found a spot by the pool and stretched out on top of it. Time trickled by, and laying there in the warm sun, Adelaide managed to relax, if only a little bit.

The gruff voice of Thorne from behind her snapped her out of her reverie.

"We got steak, and more steak," he said.

Adelaide opened her eyes and saw that Thorne was standing over her, his huge, built body blocking out the last traces of the day's sun like some sort of monumental statue.

"You're serious about dinner?" asked Adelaide?

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Thorne. "You haven't had a damn thing to eat all day."

"Guess I haven't really been in the mood for it, what with the ‘being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery' thing."

Thorne snorted.

"'Sex slavery'?" he asked. "Don't flatter yourself."

Then his mouth formed into a little smirk. Adelaide couldn't help but slap his leg as hard as she could.

"Calm down, kiddo," said Thorne. "Anyway, you need to eat something. Finish up out here, go take a shower, and be ready to eat."

Then he was gone.

Adelaide tried to imagine forcing down the anxiety boiling in her long enough to have something to eat. It was about the least appealing thing she could imagine, but she knew Thorne was right that she needed to get something in her. She laid poolside until the sun dipped a little further toward the horizon and a mild chill slipped into the air. Then, she headed back inside and took a quick shower, doing her best to relax and let the tension melt out of her body.

Once she was done, it was around early evening. Throwing on some clothes from the dresser and stepping out of her room, she smelled the scent of cooking meat on the air. Though she was still tight with nerves, she couldn't help but feel her mouth water a little bit at this. Adelaide stepped down the grand staircase, the smell growing with each stair she descended. The soft sounds of jazz filled the air from some faraway stereo system.

Entering the kitchen, she laid eyes on Thorne standing at the stove, his sleeves rolled up around his forearms as he flipped a couple of steaks on a massive stainless-steel pan.

"There she is," he said, dumping the two enormous pieces of sizzling meat onto a pair of plates, followed by some vegetables that had been cooking on another burner. "Hope you're ready for some grub."

"I suppose I am," said Adelaide, the whole scene striking her as a little strange.

"What?" said Thorne, apparently noticing how he was looking at her.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Just didn't expect to come down here and see you making food while listening to jazz."

"Huh?" he said. "Oh, it helps me concentrate. Why – you surprised?"

"Maybe a little," she said, leaning forward on the counter. "You just don't strike me as the type. What with the tattoos and everything."

And the muscles, she thought to herself, but wisely choosing to keep that observation secret.

"And what did you expect a guy like me would do for dinner?" he said, placing the vegetables on the plates next to the meat.

"I don't know," said Adelaide. "You kind of strike me as more of a ‘fast food burrito with a beer with some heavy metal playing' type."

"Who's to say that isn't my jam?" he asked. "Maybe I'm trying to impress you."

Adelaide didn't need it explained to her that he was being about as smart-assey as it got.

"Anyway, it's ready," he said. "I got some of that fancy-ass wine they got in the cellar. Go grab a seat."

Adelaide went into the dining room where a couple of places had been set on the long, black table. She took a seat and reached for the bottle of wine on the table, noticing that the bottle looked ancient, as though it were as old as the house itself.

"I almost don't want to open this," she said as Thorne entered the dining room with the two plates in hand. "It looks like it should be in a museum or something."

"You can do whatever you want with that bottle," he said, setting the plates down. "I'm more interested in what's inside."

"Can't say I disagree with that," said Adelaide, handing the bottle over to Thorne.

Seconds later, he had it opened and was pouring two glasses of ruby-colored wine for the both of them. Then, he plopped into the chair across from her.

"What, you waiting to say grace? Dig in."

With that, Thorne set into the meat in front of him, ripping it apart effortlessly and shoving forkful after forkful into his mouth. Adelaide watched him eat for a time, noting that he was eating it like a ferocity that was almost animalistic. She poked at the meat on her plate, grease and thin blood seeping out of it. Though she still felt a little ill at ease, by now, she was too hungry to care. Adelaide first took a long sip of wine before cutting into the meat, feeling better as soon as the first sip and forkful was in her belly.

The more she ate, however, the more she felt something brew up inside of her. Her eyes flicked over to Thorne, who was happily chowing down on his meal, apparently not affected by a care in the world. She realized that she felt angry.

"What?" said Thorne, looking up at Adelaide as he wiped the grease from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I still can't believe this bullshit," she said, the words shooting out of her like little daggers. "Sitting here eating a nice meal, trying to forget that I'm getting shipped off to New York tomorrow to be sold like property."

"Technically, you're not getting sold," said Thorne, the hint of a shit-eating grin on his face. "If you're property, it's more like you're getting stolen."

"Fuck you," said Adelaide, throwing down her napkin on the table. "I know you're a heartless psycho and that this is just a job for you, but you've ripped me away from my life and now you're sitting there eating a steak like it's nothing."

"Bouncing around from major to major, job to job, your only friends being a couple of party girls who can't hold their booze – some life I was taking you away from."

"But I had a home, I had…things!" shouted Adelaide. "And now I'm going to be…what? What's going to happen to me once you drop me off? You don't know because you don't care. You're just in this to get paid, and you don't give a good goddamn about what happens to me or whatever other girl you do this to. You're…you're a sex trafficker for hire! That's all you are!"

Despite the venom dripping from Adelaide's words, Thorne didn't seem to be bothered by anything she had to say. Instead, he poured himself another glass of wine, raising the drink to his lips, and downed half of it with a single swig.

"This is actually my first time doing this," he said. "The ‘kidnapping a girl' thing. Mostly, I do escort work, bodyguard jobs – stuff like that. Assassinations, if I'm lucky."

"Assass-" said Adelaide, not believing what she was hearing, but stopping herself before she could ask. "Well, I guess now you can add human trafficking to your oh-so-impressive resume."

Thorne said nothing, and Adelaide got the impression he was waiting for her to tire out.

"What kind of person are you, anyway?" she asked. "You just take whatever job you get offered, no questions asked? Isn't there honor among thieves or something?"

"'Honor among thieves' means we don't screw each other over people in the same biz. But yeah, I take whatever job's offered to me, so long as the necessary backwork's been done and the client's ready to pay. Why should I care what jobs I have to do, just as long as the money's good?"

Adelaide realized that the odds of her getting through to Thorne were very, very slim. He continued to eat and drink, and Adelaide slumped into her chair, defeated. Her eyes flicked up to him as he dined, and she couldn't help but think about how goddamn good-looking he was. It was like insult to injury that the man putting her through this nightmare made her hornier than she'd ever remembered being. It struck her as some kind of a sick, cosmic joke.

Once Thorne was done, he polished off the rest of his wine and tossed his napkin onto his plate.

"Pretty damn good cook, if you ask me," he said.

Adelaide opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could come out, a noise ripped through the dining room. It was a terrible noise, like metal was being smashed and ground – almost like a building was collapsing.

"What the fuck?" said Thorne, shooting up from his chair and running to the back of the house toward the sound.

Adelaide's heart pounded in her chest. More noises boomed from behind the house, these sounding like massive footsteps from…something. She rushed to Thorne's side by the back windows of the house.

She couldn't believe what she laid eyes on.

At the far end of the backyard was a pair of enormous beasts that looked to Adelaide like dinosaurs. They were huge, easily at least twenty feet tall, with gray, scaled skin and fearsome faces. They'd smashed through the towering fence surrounding the property and were making their way toward the house, growing closer with each passing second.

Once the pair of beasts stopped at the edge of the swimming pool, stretching out a pair of mighty wings from their backs and letting out deafening roars, Adelaide realized just what these things were.

They were dragons.

CHAPTER 5

"Fuck!" shouted Thorne, his hands on the large windows looking out onto the back property, his eyes locked onto the pair of gray dragons. "How the fuck did they find us here?"

"What?" demanded Adelaide. "What are you talking about? Are those things dragons?"

"Yes, they're fucking dragons!" shouted Thorne over the sound of the beasts letting out another pair of roars.

Thorne's eyes latched back onto the creatures.

Grays, he thought, noting the ash-colored scales that covered both of the dragons, which meant that they were newer dragons, unaffiliated with any clan and not seasoned enough to have earned a color. Standard dragons; nothing I shouldn't be able to handle. But there's two of them; that might make things tricky.

Before he could act, the dragons shifted. Where the massive grays once stood was now a pair of menacing-looking thugs in slick suits. Thorne could tell right away that these were ronin dragons – not with a clan, nor with a mercenary company - just a few low-lifes looking to get paid.

"Thorne Lewis!" called out one in a deep voice. "You know why we're here. Send the girl out and we'll allow you to leave with your life."

Thorne boiled with rage.

"Someone knows we're here," he hissed, turning to Adelaide.

"I can see that," she said, her fear-widened eyes on the dragons.

"No," said Thorne. "Someone who hired these fuckers knows we’re here. They know who we are, and what we're doing."

Adelaide said nothing, and it was clear that she didn't know what to make of all of this.

So much the fucking better, thought Thorne. She doesn't need to know any of this crap.

"You'll let me leave with my life," said Thorne. "But are you gonna replace that fence?"

The two thugs turned to each other and shared a look.

"Come out now," one of them said. "Otherwise, we'll have to smash through this lovely home and pick the girl out of the rubble."

Thorne's mind raced. He realized that this was a do-or-die type of situation. Even if he wanted to give up Adelaide, there was no chance these thugs would let him live.

Maybe if I can get them talking, he thought, I get some information out of them. Maybe give Adelaide a chance to get to a hiding place.

"You," said Thorne, his voice low and gruff. "Stay here until I talk to those assholes. And when I do, you make a break for it out the front door. Passcode for the gate out front is five-seven-seven. Just run as fast as you fucking can, and don't look back."

Adelaide said nothing, her face frozen in an expression of fear.

"Nod or something!" demanded Thorne. "I need to know you understand me!"

Adelaide finally nodded slowly.

"Good," he said. "Run into the bayou. I'll come find you. Just keep running."

Adelaide nodded again, but Thorne could tell she was almost too shocked by what was going on to really comprehend his words. He had hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her about dragons, but at that moment, he realized how silly this thought had been. All he could hope for at this moment was that she was able to understand his simple directions of "run."

"Don't forget what I said," hissed Thorne, standing up and heading toward the back doors.

"Here I am," said Thorne, stepping out onto the backyard, his arms outstretched.

As he got closer, he could see that the thugs were a pair of twins, both with slim bodies, dirty blonde shoulder-length hair, and bony, menacing faces. He sized them up as he approached. Thorne knew that two on one would be tough, but he was a silver, and silvers were nothing to screw with.

"We don't want you," said one of the thugs. "We want the girl. Where is she?"

"Yes," said the other. "Give her to us now."

"Now," said Thorne, "why would I want to do a thing like that?"

The twins exchanged a look.

"Because, otherwise, you die."

"And how can I know for sure that you're not gonna just kill me anyway?" he said, hoping that Adelaide had already started running, knowing that each second he kept these two occupied was a little more distance she could cover. “I mean, grays aren't exactly known for their scrupulous ways."

"Because we're getting paid for this, just like you," said the twin on the right. "We're here to collect her; our client said nothing about you."

"Right," said the other twin. "As far as we're concerned, you can fuck off back to your mansion."

A client, thought Thorne. Who the fuck would this be?

"Who the hell are you working for?" said Thorne. "Who the hell wants this girl so goddamn bad?"

"Someone who wants to make sure that the Abruzzi don't have her. At any cost."

"Clearly not at any cost," said Thorne, "if they're hiring garbage-tier mercs like you."

The twins exchanged another look, this one more heated than the one before.

"You fucking silvers," said the twin on the right, "think you're the only mercs that matter, the only ones who can get the job done."

"You're arrogant," said the other twin. "And that arrogance will be your undoing."

"Now," said the right-most twin. "Are you going to give us the girl, or are we going to have to roast you alive?"

She'd better be gone, thought Thorne. Long fucking gone.

He knew a fight was about to break out, and Adelaide couldn't be anywhere near it. Thorne glanced quickly over his shoulder, looking to the area where he'd been with Adelaide only a few moments before.

To his horror, he saw that Adelaide hadn't run. She was still in that same spot, that same fearful expression on her face.

God-fucking-dammit! thought Thorne.

He knew that the time for subtlety was over.

"Adelaide!" he shouted, his voice booming. "Run! Right fucking now!"

That did it. Adelaide snapped back into reality, signaling her understanding with a nod. Then, she sprang up from where she was hidden and rushed out of sight, toward the front of the house.

"Get her!" said the twin on the right. "I'll deal with this duplicitous fuck!"

With that, the twins shifted into their dragon forms.

Time to fight, thought Thorne, shifting himself.

Moments later, Thorne was in his full silver dragon form, eye-to-eye with the twin on the right. The other took up and off into the air, the buffeting of his wings harsh in Thorne's eyes.

Shit, he thought. Gotta kill this fucker and then that one before he can get to Adelaide. Here goes nothing…

The dragon in front of him swiped through the air, Thorne ducking out of the way reflexively. Then, he lifted into the air, flapped in place for a moment, then hurtled toward Thorne like a ruby meteor. Thorne dodged this attack too, the dragon hitting the ground hard enough to crack the pavement from the impact.

Thorne moved back, putting a bit of distance between himself and the dragon. The gray struggled to his feet.

He's eager to go in for the kill right away, thought Thorne, squaring up his body and preparing for the gray's next attack. I just need to bait him and let him make his own mistakes.

Thorne prepared a feint, pulling his body back and looking as though he was about to rush in for a careless attack. The gray noticed this, and as Thorne hurtled toward him, his large scaled feet booming against the ground as he ran, the gray lunged back, filling his chest with air. Then, as Thorne grew closer, the gray did just what he'd hoped he would. A massive stream of dark orange fire shot from the gray's mouth; Thorne knew he wouldn't be able to resist roasting a rushing dragon. But Thorne was ready. As soon as he'd caught sight of the flames forming in the gray's mouth, he moved his body out of the way, taking flight and allowed the flame jet to shoot past him harmlessly. The pool, however, caught fire, the superheated flames of the red-hot enough to scorch the water itself.

The gray stumbled, the fire blast taking it out of him for a moment. Thorne wasn't about to waste this chance. He rose higher in the air, giving himself space for momentum. Then, once the gray was small beneath him, Thorne propelled himself downward, hurtling toward the earth and smashing the gray. He felt the snapping of many thick bones under him, and Thorne knew that this was it for this particular gray. The beast struggling helplessly underneath him, Thorne lunged in and bit down hard on the gray’s neck, snapping it like a stick.

The gray fell into a lifeless heap.

Now the second one, thought Thorne.

Thorne took off into the night sky, scanning around him for any sight of the gray dragon. Finally, he caught a glimpse of the beast flying away from the property, his huge ash-colored wings flapping against the ink-dark night sky.

I'm coming for you, motherfucker, thought Thorne, picking up his speed and racing toward the gray. Eventually, he caught up with him, the beast stopping in mid-flight and whipping his body around to face Thorne. Looking down, far below him onto the ground, Thorne eagerly searched for Adelaide among the thick trees. But he couldn't spot her.

Good, he thought. Get good and far the fuck away from here.

Now he had the second gray to deal with. The dragon pulled his head back and launched a fireball at Thorne, the superheated orb of flame hurtling toward him. Thorne, momentarily distracted by his search for Adelaide, was caught by surprise by the fireball. He moved out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid having the very tip of his left wing singed.

Oh, you're gonna pay for that, you piece of shit, thought Thorne, anger building inside of him.

He let the scorching pain pass through his body. Once he collected himself, he prepared for the gray's attack. The dragon zipped through the air, hoping to hit Thorne hard enough to knock him out of the sky. But Thorne wasn't about to fall for this move. He dodged the gray with ease, the dragon hurtling past him.

You're not the only one here who can play with fire, prick, thought Thorne.

As the gray stopped in mid-air, turning himself around gracelessly in order to recover from his overshoot, Thorne let a budding flame take form in his mouth. He held fast, giving the gray an easy target. Sure enough, the gray squared up for another attack.

Can't believe how easy these amateur fucks are to bait, he thought, feeling the heat from the flames in his mouth.

Then, the gray flapped his wings hard and rushed toward Thorne. But Thorne was ready. Right as the gray closed in on him, the beast's mouth wide open and his claws ready to rip and tear, Thorne opened his mouth and blasted out a thick jet of dark blue flame. The fire tore through the air, connecting with the gray and engulfing him in superhot fire within seconds. The gray, totally consumed by fire, kept himself aloft for a brief moment before the flames ate through his wings and sent him hurtling toward the ground. The beast let out one last roar as he dropped, and when he hit the ground in a flaming heap, Thorne heard the thud.

Now I gotta find the girl, he thought.

Thorne scanned the ground frantically, hoping to catch some sight of her. He had nightmare visions of her in the jaws of some gator, or God forbid, right where the gray happened to be when he smashed into the ground. But as he flew, he caught the scent of something – something strange and enticing. He sniffed the air, noting that the scent was almost intoxicating. He sniffed and sniffed, unable to resist the scent.

That's…gotta be her! he thought, aiming his body in the direction of the scent and flying as fast as he could.

What the hell kind of smell is that? he thought. Never smelled a human like that before.

He put his confusion out of his mind as he flew toward where the smell led him. Soon, he was able to spot movement among the trees, and sure enough, he saw that it was Adelaide. She was running as fast as she could, and from Thorne's height, he could see that she was headed in no place in particular. He flew toward the ground in front of her, smashing through the treetops and coming to a landing on the earth just before Adelaide. She stopped in place, and he took a long sniff of the air. Sure enough, the scent was stronger, almost overpowering.

Gotta ignore it, he thought. She smells so fucking good.

Adelaide, her eyes wide, stared up at Thorne. But he didn't have time to stand there while she looked at him with disbelief; he had to get her back to the house and figure out just what the hell was going on. He gestured with a swing of his head for her to climb on his back. It took a few moments, but she eventually got the hint and got on him. Once she'd had a moment to grab hold, Thorne took off, up and into the air. He flew over the bayou, making his way back to the house. Once they arrived, he came to a landing in the backyard, the flame on the pool dying down, the gray dragon twin now back in human form and splayed out lifelessly on the concrete.

Thorne felt Adelaide scrambled off his back, and once she was on the ground, took another long sniff of the air. With her on his back, the scent was so powerful that he could hardly think straight. Looking down at her as she stood before him, she was the only thought that could be held in his mind.

Thorne needed to fuck her, and now.

He shifted back into his human form, now face-to-face with Adelaide. The scent had left him intoxicated; he felt hardly in control of himself. So it was almost something of a surprise to him when he rushed toward Adelaide, took her into his arms, and kissed her hard.