Laura’s tracker winked out.

Kyan flushed hot and then ice cold. He jolted from his seat.

His siblings paused in the middle of discussing Chrysoberyl’s product proposal. They’d overlooked the simple scarf and he made an impressive case that now was its time.

“Kyan,” Mal acknowledged, assuming he had something to add to their business discussion.

His heart beat loud in his ears and a sour taste filled his mouth.

No. Impossible. It was not her tracker. There was some mistake.

A malfunction.

Something…

He pivoted and strode out of the conference room.

“Kyan?” Mal called.

He flew to his ops center within the Onyx Corporation. Beneath the ferns, his office was well-outfitted, but the ops center held additional things.

Like weapons.

And if he’d gone to his ops center when Pyro had disappeared instead of tearing for his last known location, Kyan might have trained satellites and observed the criminal in the act of the kidnapping. That was a mistake he would not repeat.

The darkly tinted, radio-canceling doors whooshed open. He entered, and they slid shut.

His employees were glued to their screens.

“Calculate its trajectory,” his slick ops manager ordered the excitable comm tech. “When it decloaks again, we must be ready.”

The graying building security manager looked up at Kyan. Worry mixed with admiration. “You already know?”

His heart thunked.

But the rest of him cooled to crystal clarity. “Know?”

“A Draconis warship announced its arrival with a test shot on an isolated glacier.”

Thunk.

“We also have a new lead on the medkits.” The building security manager opened folders. “Someone made the mistake of selling inventory to two of Chrysoberyl Carnelian’s unemployed aristocrats. And they—”

“Which glacier?”

The building security manager dropped the medkit folders and pointed to the map, used to switching to whatever topic Kyan deemed most important. “In the northwestern quadrant of the continent.”

Thunk.

“The glacier known by humans as Denali.”

He studied the map for a full minute.

In the back of his mind, a voice was screaming.

She was supposed to be untouchable. She was supposed to be hidden. She was supposed to be safe.

“Do you have a visual on the test shot location?” he asked coldly.

The building security manager shook his head. “It’s in a visual dead spot. We’re moving a satellite there now.”

Of course his lair was in a visual dead spot. It emitted only encrypted waves, hiding the structure as if it didn’t exist.

A warship could read encrypted waves. His measures hid from ordinary adversaries. Not a warship.

“Identity on the warship?” he growled.

“Not yet.”

Behind him, the door whooshed. Amber appeared in the reflection of the glass. The meeting must have been called early.

He focused on the map. “Trajectory?”

“There are too many possibilities.” His comm tech groaned and rubbed his head. “We didn’t identify the engine. They could be across the galaxy by now.”

“When did they cloak?”

The ops manager checked his log. “Six minutes ago.”

Wait.

“When was the test shot fired?”

“Twenty-two minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“The warship fired on a nonessential target. We wanted to present you with more information.”

The times. The times did not add up.

Kyan strode to a screen, hacked his safeguards, and revealed his tracker logs, not even caring that his employees and Amber could see it over his shoulder.

There.

Laura’s tracker had disappeared closer to eight minutes ago. Not twenty-two.

She had survived the attack.

His heart began thumping again. Hot, tingly blood rushed to his lips and toes.

Entering their warship would cut off a tracker. Just after, the warship cloaked.

“Find the warship,” he ordered.

“It’s impossible! They could be in the same place or they could be on the other side of Jupiter. They could be hovering over this very building right now.”

Kyan would know if they were hovering over this building. The sensors in this office building, relics from his black ops days, were capable of reading cloaked, encrypted military signals.

“Calculate again.”

The comm tech scrubbed his eyes and wiped his calculations, starting over. “If we had more data … if we knew what they wanted…”

Behind him, Amber spoke quietly. “Who’s Laura?”

“A female under my protection.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “A female? Then, the Empress—”

“It is not what you think.”

“What should I think?”

He considered not answering. It would be simpler than trying to explain.

But perhaps there was no need to complicate his answer. Laura had gifted him with her body, her sunshine, and her smiles. No more. She was not his mate no matter how Kyan might crave such a connection.

“She is not my mate,” he finally said.

Amber frowned.

Meanwhile, the comm tech’s words slapped him smartly. Why wasn’t he thinking with his usual clarity? He closed his tracker log, broke into his network a second time, and began dialing.

The video snapped on the fourth ring. His youngest brother, Flint, appeared.

Amber made a noise.

Their reclusive youngest brother rarely called and she’d missed his first in-person appearance in nearly five years — at his request.

His owlish gray eyes focused on a tiny planet the size of a bead which he was painting with a single-bristle brush. His tongue stuck in the corner of his thin lips. Longish dark hair curled over his sloped brow, and he wore a jeweler’s magnifying glass over one eye.

“Can this wait?” he asked without removing his gaze from his work.

“A warship just destroyed my lair. Who is it and what do they want?”

His employees startled, then quickly resumed their assigned tasks.

Flint dabbed paint, examined his work, and smiled.

Kyan knew that expression. He calmed.

Nothing made Flint prouder than figuring out something ahead of his slow siblings.

“A warship? Can’t you guess?” He lowered the planet and turned his superior expression on Kyan. “Of course it is the Gnashing Teeth.”

Of course.

Kyan directed the comm tech. “It will be close. This side of Jupiter. Possibly approaching our building.”

He could only hope.

The comm tech blew a focused breath, wiped his half-formed calculations, and began yet again.

Meanwhile, Amber gasped. “Why?”

Flint’s eyes twinkled with amusement he expected no one to share. “His uncle has come to rescue Chrysoberyl Carnelian from the horrors of a world filled with low caste dragons, fallen aristocrats, and nasty humans.”

“But he had a good idea today. We’re going to use his product for our next launch.”

“Even a pure blood aristocrat can make a mistake.”

Flint implied having a good idea was Chrysoberyl’s error.

“Why did the Gnashing Teeth destroy my lair?” Kyan asked, more out of irritation than because he expected an answer.

Flint only raised a brow. “Perhaps you did something to draw their attention.”

His lair was the only one in this galaxy ghosted so completely. That changed Kyan’s question to why had the Gnashing Teeth targeted what was obviously a hidden lair? And he would only get that answer one way.

“We have five most likely locations for decloaking,” the comm tech said.

“Put them on screen.”

Flint leaned back and picked up his brush. Kyan reached over to close the connection.

“Wait.” Amber rested a hand on Kyan’s arm. “Flint, why don’t you come to our meetings?”

“Why don’t I come to your meetings?” He raised one brow. “For the same reason you’re still single.”

Her lips parted and her eyes unfocused. Then, she shook herself. “No. That can’t be true.”

“My conclusions are never wrong.”

“But you’re…”

“Not a dominant, fire-breathing female?” The wry smile returned. “Unlike you, I am unable to suppress my true nature.”

She clenched the hem of her conservative cardigan.

“Kyan, farewell. I’ll miss our little chats.” Flint reached forward and closed the connection.

She frowned. “What does he mean, he’ll miss your chats?”

Flint had guessed Kyan’s strategy for avoiding the Empress’s marriage offer. Kyan would never share it with his siblings. For their safety.

Without answering Amber, Kyan strode to the armory and keyed in his codes. The huge vault whooshed open on well-oiled hinges. He cached weapons in a few locations around this galaxy but nowhere as extensively as in his lair. He’d be hurting from that loss for some time.

He stripped and strapped on body armor.

Amber lingered in the doorway. “Are you going to get revenge?”

“And collect my female.”

He shouldn’t use the possessive. Laura wasn’t his female. But he used it anyway.

Kyan cinched on his signal-canceling bicep shields too hard and had to back them off.

Clear your head.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“No.”

She clenched her hems again.

He finished dressing and activated the mirrored fibers. His body disappeared as the light bent around him, hiding him not only from plain sight but also from any cameras. A slight blurring smudged his outlines.

He was as close to cloaked as an individual could become outside of a paramilitary unit, and as armed as he could be without sacrificing stealth.

“I can be intimidating.” Amber’s hair crackled with licks of red flame to prove her point.

“That is not needed now.”

“Then, what is needed now?”

“Nothing.”

Her flames doused and her colors dimmed.

Her sadness touched him. She was as solitary as he was, and their burdens were obvious to anyone with eyes. His were scars and size.

Hers was existing as a female dragon.

Males hated and feared her. She could control their lives, crush them until they obeyed her wishes, tear them apart if they disobeyed. Relatives, enemies, strangers all had to respect her regardless of their true feelings.

Amber never flexed her power. She tried, as much as possible, to remain quiet and observe. Only contribute when required. Suppress her true nature to let her siblings live without the burden of her presence.

Just like Kyan.

He reached out and cupped her cheek.

She blinked. But she did not move away.

This was a gesture of comfort Laura would make. Kyan would walk past Amber’s sadness to get on with his job. But Laura would stop, comfort Amber, and tell her it was okay.

Kyan couldn’t go so far as to tell her it was okay. He didn’t think it would be. But he could share this silent moment, the two of them frozen in a statue, and she could know by his touch and his respectful silence that he heard, understood, and empathized.

“I work alone,” he said finally and dropped his hand.

She touched her own hand to her cheek. “Let me know if I can help.”

“I will.”

“Sir!” The ops manager summoned him. “A ripple has appeared next to one of the five projected locations of decloaking.”

“Contact the Vermillion family. Tell them to prepare for a salvage operation.”

The ops manager looked up. “They’ll want to know what they’re salvaging.”

He closed his tactical helmet. His rough voice growled from its speaker with a soft, metallic echo. “The wreck of a Draconis warship.”