Riyah’s burner phone rang just as she was driving into the prison parking lot. In a rush, she pulled into a spot crooked and fumbled around in her purse until she found it.

“Hello?” she answered, hoping she hadn’t missed it.

“Turn on the news,” was all Damon Daye said before the line went dead.

Okay then. She’d been in lala land, aka thinking about Vyr-diddles the entire drive here, and now she was jolted back to reality. She pulled out her personal cell phone and connected to the internet. Well, news footage on Vyr wasn’t hard to find. Every link she clicked showed video of somber anchors talking about the death of the Red Dragon at the hands of the New IESA.

…against his will…

…not what our prison system should’ve been doing…

…grotesque use of power…

…the dragon is finally incapacitated…

…the world is a safer place…

…horrified by the secrecy…

…apparently the International Exchange of Shifter Affairs has been revived, to the detriment of all shifter-kind…

…the New IESA…

…experiments on shifters…

…a second look at shifter rights in the prison system…

…dragon is dead…

…dead…

…dead…

…the Red Dragon is dead…

Feeling sick, Riyah clicked on the video with the most views. It had been released late last night and already had several million hits. It opened with shaky footage of the conversation with Emmitt. Well, shit. She was the only one in the room when they had that conversation. She was definitely busted as the rat.

“Fuck,” she muttered as her heart rate went to racing and the blood drained out of her face and hands so quickly her skin tingled. Why would Cora Keller and Beck Anderson blast this out there? They’d completely blown her cover, and she wasn’t done here yet. Vyr was still in here, still at risk. She struggled to hold the phone steady as she watched the rest of the video.

The entire conversation between her and Emmitt was on there, and then the screen faded to black. Words typed across the darkness as Vyr said, “I hate you seeing me like this.”

The screen morphed to Vyr, running his hand down his short beard, his scar an angry red from his temple to the back of his head. She wasn’t in the scene, but her voice rang out clearly. “What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter.” His voice sounded so defeated, and he ghosted a glance at the camera, flashing those sad, frozen dragon eyes.

“Don’t push me away,” she pleaded.

“Riyah, it’s best this way. I know what’s coming.” The scene faded to black, and words started typing across the dark again as Vyr spoke. “I’m tired. I’ve existed for thirty years with everyone thinking I’m evil. Doesn’t matter the effort I put into keeping good people safe. I lost the dragon. Lost the biggest part of me, and now there’s this hole. It’s growing bigger and bigger, and now all I feel is…”

“Is what?” she murmured.

“Emptiness.” Vyr’s voice echoed with sadness. The video showed Vyr again, and he was looking down at his clenched hands between his knees, shaking his head as he uttered, “If everyone wants me gone so bad…okay. I don’t really want to live a life where I feel like this anyway.”

“What about me?” Riyah asked from offscreen. “I’ll be alone if you leave. Really alone. I want more.”

“More what?”

“Time. I want you to kiss me, hold my hand, take me out for coffee, and stay up all night talking while you’re actually lying beside me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. It was instant for me. I should’ve been scared of you, right? Well, I wasn’t. You always make me feel safe, even locked in here. I want to see Mr. Diddles and see your mountains. I want to be part of your crew. I want you to stick around because, to me, it doesn’t matter if you have the dragon or not. To me, it only matters if you’re here. With me. The princess and the dragon. A fairytale…except that’s not us, is it? Not really. We were built in similar ways that made our edges too rough for anyone else to handle or they would get cut. But we don’t cut each other. We fit. Now you go. What do you want?”

Vyr ran his hand over his hair roughly and then leaned forward, grabbed her chair, and pulled her close. The camera changed angles, aiming at both of them as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“What do you want, Vyr?” she asked.

“I want my dragon back. I want to be whole because I want to keep you.”

Riyah put her hands up, and then Vyr slid his much bigger hands against hers and intertwined their fingers.

“I have a surprise for you,” she whispered.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“Come lay on the floor with me.”

The scene cut to a shot of the cement ceiling, covered in black scorch marks. The words appeared on the screen as she and Vyr spoke. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I’m ready,” Vyr answered.

The lights cut suddenly, and the scene was just pitch black with hundreds of plastic glowing stars. And their words appearing in closed captions.

“Riyaaah.”

“Remember when you told me what you missed the most?”

“The sky. The stars.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked to imagine them smiling down on you, even if you couldn’t see them. And that they were smiling because they could see better things coming for you.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Vyr. I’ll be your star. I believe in you. I’ll wait with you while better things are coming.”

“I’m yours,” he read aloud.

There was a pause, and then in an emotional voice, Riyah murmured, “You just said you wanted the dragon back so you could keep me. Well…dragon or no, you have me.”

Slowly, the glowing stars faded to black.

And just like that, whoever had edited this video had humanized the most misunderstood shifter in the world. They had turned him from monster to man.

The scene cut to a pair of news anchors. A pretty blond woman was dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex, and the man asked if she was okay.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, it’s just sad. Shifters really and truly are people, with feelings and fears and hopes and dreams just like humans. When my crew and my husband, Boone, were coming out to the public all those years ago, it was so scary for us. It was terrifying. We were scared for our families, and now it feels like that’s been revived. That fear of shifters. And because of that fear, you have these underground, secret operations that pop up and experiment on shifters, abuse them, torture them, steal their animals, and who is holding them accountable? Who? Whose place is it to stand up and say it’s not right what they are doing?”

“The public,” the man answered somberly.

The woman—Cora Keller, the name read along the bottom of the screen—turned to the camera, and her voice went steely as she said, “I agree. It’s up to us to stop experimentation and involuntary cleansing of shifter animals. The suicide rate of shifters who have been cleansed is horrifying. I want the New IESA brought down. I want it annihilated, and I think we should revisit Vyr Daye spending another six months of his sentence in that godforsaken place. The government already seized all his assets, and he has paid to rebuild Covington, and now his dragon has been tortured to death. To death. I think he’s suffered enough. I’ve started a petition online. You can find it at www-dot-stop-the-new-IESA-dot-com. Join me and thousands of others in making a positive change.”

Cora continued talking, but Riyah turned off the phone and stared in shock out the front window. Well, that was one way to do it. Too bad it was still up to her to keep Vyr and Nox and Torren protected on the inside of that prison until a decision about Vyr’s sentence could be reached.

“Vyr?” she asked. He’d been quiet all morning, and that hadn’t bothered her because it was early, and she’d thought he was probably still sleeping. Now alarms were blaring inside her head though, and this newfound feeling of uneasiness just wouldn’t go away.

“Vyr?” she tried again, but she was met with silence.

“Shoot,” she murmured, grabbing her purse and clipboard. She faced the gold star toward her and said, “Something feels wrong, and I’m so busted they probably won’t let me in the prison, but I have to try. Damon, you said I could have the crews if I needed them. That I’m not alone? Well…I have a really bad feeling, and I think I need help.”

Riyah slid out of her Xterra and slammed the door, then bolted for the prison entrance, grateful she’d had the foresight to wear sneakers again today. When she made it through the first security checkpoint with nothing more than a harried, “Hurry up, it’s chaos in there,” from one of the new daytime guards, Riyah was shocked. She’d been sure they would stop her from even getting this far. Okay, one check-point at a time.

The second and third went off without a hitch too, but when she got inside the prison walls, the new guard had been right—it was utter chaos. Rows of inmates were chained at the ankles and wrists in neat lines, waiting to leave through the transportation doors.

“What’s happening?” she asked Euless, who was hanging against the back wall, watching the guards yell orders to the inmates.

“You sure do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” he asked. He gestured toward the masses. “All them boys have been pumped full of meds to keep them from shifting and they are being transported to different shifter prisons.”

“Different ones? Why?”

“Because you got this one shut down. I’m pretty damn impressed. Except now I’m out of a job, so thanks for that.”

“You deserve better than to be mopping up peas after grown men anyway.”

“Yep, I do.” He lowered his voice. “I ain’t seen a soul from the lower levels. I’ve been watching for ’em. See that lady guard over there?” He jerked his chin toward a stout blonde with a nametag that read Tominson. “She’s one of ours, and she just told me the lower levels ain’t even on the transportation lists.”

“What does that mean?” she whispered.

“I can’t be for certain, but I’m guessing it means they’re gettin’ rid of evidence.” Euless’s bushy brows jacked up to his hairline. “You better hurry.”

“Oh, my gosh, okay. Thanks, Euless.” She strode away as fast as she could without drawing attention, but no one stopped her as she made her way to the elevator that would take her to the lower levels. However, when she swiped her card into the reader, it read ERROR.

“Oh no. No, no, come on,” she muttered, swiping it again with the same result.

Three more times got three more error messages, and now she was panicking. She needed to find someone with lower level clearance right freaking now. But when she turned to track down someone to help, she ran into a solid wall of muscle. Hank Butted gripped her arms. At first, she thought he was steadying her with those cold, clammy hands of his, but then he swiped his card and shoved her into the elevator with him before she could even protest.

Horrified, she backed into the opposite corner of the small space. The lights dimmed and the elevator slowed with the power that pulsed from her. Fear did that.

“Settle down, witch. I’m not going to kill you. And you’re welcome. The New IESA doesn’t like spies, and I’m getting you down to the action. That’s where you want to be…right? Front row seat to the show?”

“W-what show?”

“They’re going to kill Vyr’s crew in front of him…and then they’re going to kill Vyr. And I’m gonna love watching your face when they do it.”

The power surged and the elevator dipped so fast her stomach lurched.

“Steady, witch. I’m not the one you’re after. I’m here to witness, just like you.”

She trusted him about as far as she could throw him though, so she remained plastered to the wall as he strode out of the elevator. With a steadying breath, she followed him out, but Butte rounded on her so suddenly he blurred. And then he slammed a needle into the side of her neck as he smiled like a demon. “Gotcha.”

Riyah’s legs buckled, but he held her upright and dragged her down the hallway, singing “ding-dong, the witch is dead,” in a gravelly, off-key voice.

She was having trouble controlling her body, and her legs wouldn’t hold her weight. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up in no time,” he murmured as they reached Vyr’s lair. He swiped his card into the two entryways. And as he dragged her into the sprawling room with the scorch marks and plastic stars that had fallen all over the floor, he whispered in her ear, “I wasn’t lying when I told you I wasn’t going to kill you. Not right away at least. First, I want to give you something worse than death.”

He turned her in his arms, and there were Vyr, Nox, and Torren, looking like they’d been through ten rounds of a boxing match, on their knees, hands cuffed behind their backs.

“No,” Vyr growled through a split lip.

“Don’t worry,” Butte sang. “She made it just in time.”

“Worse than death,” she slurred.

“That’s right, Witch. I’m going to Turn you.” Without another second of warning, Butte opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the side of her neck. Pain blasted through her, the arms of the burn spreading from where his teeth pierced her skin downward. He released her just as she screamed at the fiery pain, and he said, “Now you’re one of the things that killed your dad. Enjoy the bear while you can.”

The roaring in her ears drowned out everything. Warmth trickled down the side of her neck, and time slowed to a crawl as she fell to her knees, tear-filled eyes on the Sons of Beasts. Nox and Torren were fighting the hand-cuffs, yelling something at her she couldn’t understand. And Vyr…her Vyr…was glaring behind her at Butte with the promise of death in his blue eyes. There were a dozen guards with their weapons trained on Riyah, Vyr, Nox, and Torren, but all she could hear was Butte’s laughter behind her.

Emmitt was giving an order. What order? He was jamming his finger at Vyr, and the guards aimed.

No. No, no, no, this wasn’t Vyr’s fate. Better things were coming. They had to be.

She needed fire. She needed Damon and Dark Kane. She needed Roe, Harper, and Diem to rain hell down on this place and save them, but they weren’t here. They hadn’t made it in time.

She needed dragon’s fire.

Fire.

The Red Dragon had fire.

Everyone was yelling—everyone but Vyr. He was looking right at her.

“Can you feel it?”

“Feel w-what?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she resisted curling around the pain in her middle. Something awful was growing inside of her.

“Look at me. Really look.”

She did, but Vyr was blurry. His edges were too soft, and there was a smoke-gray fog rolling from him into her.

“Take it, Riyah. Take it and get out of here. Everything is going to be okay.”

It was those last words that snapped her out of it. Mom had said that too, and it hadn’t been okay. It hadn’t. She’d lost too much, and she would be good-goddamned if she lost Vyr and his crew, too.

Red Dragon.

Fire. Fire everywhere.

And it hit her what she was supposed to do.

No more hating his reflection. No more broken mirrors. No more frozen silver eyes.

No. More. Half-life.

The New IESA owed Vyr a dragon.

Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind, down the hallway to the lab. In through the doors, through the maze of tables, past the lab equipment and to the room they’d locked up tight. The room where they kept the dragon-in-a-syringe. Power throbbed from her skin. She was bloated with it thanks to Vyr dumping his into her. She smiled as she touched the metal canister that held Vyr’s future.

Fuck consequences.

She lifted her hand into the air and pulled with all her power. The crashing sounds were deafening, and the cavernous room shook. When she opened her eyes, Vyr was dropping guards. One by one, they were going limp, slamming against the concrete. Butte roared a challenge behind her, and Emmitt was screaming orders, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the building fury in Vyr’s face. With one last twitch of her hand, Riyah pulled a hole through the cement and steel rebar. The banged-up canister slammed onto the ground and skidded right to Vyr.

Shocked, he looked down at it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Her body hurt so bad. Sooo bad. She was breaking from the inside out as a smattering of pops sounded. Were those her bones? Through clenched teeth, she gritted out, “I’m giving you the sky.” And then such agonizing pain rippled through her she couldn’t do more than lay there on the cold concrete and stare helplessly at the man she loved.

There was a single second of hesitation before Vyr turned to Torren and Nox. “Change now! Protect Riyah!” He twitched his fingers and the metal canister ripped away and a single syringe fell to the concrete.

Emmitt was running for it, so close, but Vyr held out his hand, and the tiny needle-capped vial snapped into his palm as fast as a bullet. And in one smooth motion, he slammed it into his arm as he smiled wickedly at Butte. “Run,” he snarled. “Run like the devil’s behind you. Because he is.”

And then the massive red dragon exploded from Vyr’s body. A suffocating wave of power pulsed from him and the walls blasted outward. His Firestarter clicked, and the dragon aimed, and spewed a stream of fire. Butte and Emmitt’s screams filled her head. She didn’t even want to see. Nox’s blond grizzly was sprinting for her, followed closely by Torren’s massive silverback. They reached her just as rubble rained down, and covered her body with theirs.

Flames devoured everything, and the heat blistered her skin. She squeezed her eyes closed and didn’t open them again until her skin cooled. There was nothing left but Vyr, Nox, Torren, her, and piles of ashes covering the floor.

Why wasn’t her body working? Was it the drugs Butte had given her? Or was it her inability to control the enormous white paws with six-inch, curved, razor-sharp black claws that had replaced her blunt human hands? Was her body broken because of the animal? Because of the bear? Or was this what it was like to be frozen in terror?

Beaston and his son had been right. There was fire everywhere. Vyr was indeed total destruction. He stretched his ripped-up, blood-red wings, shielding her and Nox and Torren from the debris that fell from the ceiling as he arched his massive, red-scaled head back and opened his jaws, spraying magma at the roof.

“Fuck,” Torren said in a growling, inhuman voice. “We need to move. He’s gonna level this place.”

He shoved Riyah out from under a massive chunk of ceiling that shattered on the floor with a plume of dust. Light filled the room, and above them, Vyr had blasted a huge hole in the prison to expose the sky. It wasn’t big enough for him to escape. Or so she thought, but just as Torren gripped the scruff of her neck to pull her away, Vyr roared, bunched his muscles, and rocketed up into the sky like an enormous crimson missile, the walls of the prison exploding outward as he escaped his hell.

“Vyr, no!” Torren bellowed. But it was too late. The Red Dragon was pissed, and now he was free to unleash hell on earth as he saw fit.

But far above, just as he reached the clouds, a blue dragon locked onto him with his claws, and both spewed fire and snapped at each other. Damon.

Something monstrous and black flew over the opening of the destroyed prison. Dark Kane was here and so was Roe’s dark silver dragon and the two green dragons, Harper and Diem.

If Riyah knew how to cry from relief in this body, she would have. The dragons weren’t here to hurt Vyr. They were herding him toward the west, taking turns swooping in. Pushing him. Taking hits from his fire and refusing to burn him back.

Outside, the roars and snarls, calls and caws of countless animals filled the air. Beside her, Nox roared and Torren beat his chest loudly, like a war drum. And then something happened, something deep within her. Rocked to her core and shocked at all that had happened, she answered the call of her new people. She struggled to her feet, lifted her head to the sky, and screamed. Only it didn’t sound like her voice anymore scratching up the back of her throat. Instead, a bellowing roar shook up from her chest and rattled the ground beneath her massive paws.

Tomorrow would have to take care of itself. She would have to learn how to be this new creature, and she would have to accept all that had happened. Her future had just been thrown into chaos, but really, that had begun long before now. It had happened the day she saw Vyr. She hadn’t been born for a steady, easy, normal life. Neither had her mate. But right now, she wanted to celebrate the victories.

Vyr was still alive.

The Red Dragon was still alive, and the man she loved was whole.

Nox and Torren stood strong beside her, and somewhere out there in the woods that surrounded the prison, she knew Nevada and Candace were with the rest of the shifters of Damon’s Mountains, Kane’s Mountains, and Harper’s Mountains.

Damon had been right. She hadn’t been alone.

Riyah wanted to cry and scream and laugh and yell and roar with the relief that wracked her body in waves.

She’d heard it many times and uttered it herself, but this…right now…was the first time she’d ever felt it to be true.

Everything was going to be okay.