“Do I have your word that Jade lives?” Dragon asked Master Eon.

“I am the Academy,” the man said. “My word is law—”

“Master Eon,” a man interrupted their conversation.

Dragon hadn’t heard the door opening.

“What is it?” Master Eon asked, nodding for the newcomer to approach the dais.

The man, a young assassin barely out of his teenage years, hurried toward the platform, kneeled in front of it, and rose when Master Eon impatiently waved his hand for him to stand. Fumbling on his way up, the assassin stepped on the dais and whispered a few frantic words in the master’s ear.

She’s escaped, Dragon heard with his enhanced ears.

Master Eon’s face darkened, fury soon marrying his stark features. He turned and pulled a tassel hanging from the wall. A portion of the same wall slid open, and several assassins burst onto the dais.

“Take him to the dungeon,” he ordered the men, who immediately fanned out, short, split-ended daggers at the ready.

Four assassins seized Dragon, while the rest of them, at least a dozen people, surrounded him. He stood taller than the tallest of the gang by several centimeters and raised his brow in contempt.

“Really?” With nothing more than a shrug, Dragon dislodged the hands grabbing his arms. “I’ll follow,” he said.

One of the men, the one who looked like the oldest of the lot, cut his eyes to Master Eon and received a curt nod to proceed. “You and you stay with me,” he said, pointing at the two assassins standing closer to the dais.

Surrounded by a small army, Dragon exited the room and reentered the cold hallway. The men moved at a fast pace through the endless turns of the marble corridors that extended for hundreds of meters without as much as a single identifying detail. Metal doors opened into the corridors at regular intervals, the panels as plain and unadorned as the walls.

Without his internal compass, Dragon would have immediately lost track of the direction they were going. Although nothing suggested otherwise, he knew they were descending, which meant the incline was gradual and that the hallways were built to give the illusion that the floors were flat when in fact they were not. The whole structure was like a gigantic downward spiral. Since exiting the hangar, he had been slowly plunging toward the bottom of the Citadel.

Nervous energy radiated from the assassins escorting him. Finally, the one who had taken the lead stopped before yet another metal door and barked, “Open.”

The panel slid on a well-oiled track instead of swinging on its hinges, revealing a small corridor with a low ceiling and walls too close to each other. The man at Dragon’s side made to push him but promptly stepped aside when Dragon gave him a cold stare.

Repressing a groan, Dragon crossed the threshold and entered the claustrophobic space which became narrower a few steps in. Soon, the illumination dimmed, and the temperature decreased until the sweat on Dragon’s skin became frost. The men shivered, but nobody complained.

Minutes later, the leader took a turn into a secondary and equally bottlenecked corridor that ended at a grated gate. The gate opened when the man stepped in front of it and leaned his face close to a plaque on the right column. Everyone got in, and the gate closed after the last one in the queue crossed its threshold.

“Walk in,” the leader said, motioning for Dragon to step forward.

When the man in front of him moved to let him pass, Dragon saw the leader opening a low door that barely reached the man’s chest.

The assassin turned and made a mock flourish. “Home sweet home,” he said, making a gesture for him to duck.

By now, Dragon had gathered enough information about the place and didn’t need the guided tour any longer.

He struck the two men closest to him at once, and kicked a third, thrusting his leg backward with enough strength to create a domino effect and shove the fourth and fifth man behind against the rest.

Chaos ensued. The daggers came out, but in the narrow space, arms couldn’t freely extend to thrust, whereas Dragon’s brute force and sheer size gave him a distinctive advantage. He was still hit several times, though. The double blades resembling a snake’s bifurcated tongue cut through the fabric of his clothes, reaching his skin beneath.

The scent of his spilled blood awakened his dragon and sent Dragon into a battle frenzy. He hadn’t had a closed combat in a long time and relished the opportunity to release all his pent-up energy. His body reacted to the incoming threats without him having to think about his next move. Punches and kicks flew all around as he mowed down the enemies, who lunged at him with all their might.

One dagger speared Dragon’s side. He chopped down blindly to stop the twisting motion stretching the wound. Someone screamed, and the pressure on the blade lessened, but its sharp points remained embedded under Dragon’s ribs.

More stilettos were thrust at him. Dragon turned on his heels, using his arms like shields, smashing assassins against each other as they came at him, sometimes two or three at a time. Covered in blood, he used his fists to cripple the ones left standing, and his boots to keep the ones crawling on the now-slick floor from rising.

A few minutes later, the leader was the only one remaining on his feet.

“Stay put,” Dragon told him as he threw the unconscious assassins into the pit they had meant for him to inhabit.

The leader eyed the pile of bodies forming on the cell’s floor as if he were pondering which route to take. His eyes briefly cut toward the gate that led back into the corridor.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dragon warned him.

The assassin charged, swinging his blade in a fast motion as he aimed for Dragon’s throat. The man’s skills would have taken any mortal by surprise, but not a dragon shifter. Only amaranthine poison would have slowed Dragon down long enough for an enemy to be able to deal the fatal stroke. Fortunately for him, Master Eon’s guards had not come prepared.

Dragon stopped the dagger with his hands before jerking the weapon away.

With disbelief in his eyes, the assassin looked at the blood coating the dagger now pointed at him.

Dragon one-handedly grabbed him by the collar of his vest before shoving him against the rough wall. “Open the gate,” he ordered, pressing the sharp edge of the blade against the assassin’s throat.

“I’ll do it,” the man said.

One could always count on an assassin to do the practical thing.

Without releasing the man, Dragon lowered him so that his feet touched the floor.

The assassin cut a glance toward the gate. “I need to stand in front of it to activate the eye-scan,” he said, confirming Dragon’s suspicion about the plaque on the column.

Dragon pushed him around. “Go ahead.” He held the man by his shoulder, the dagger touching his neck as a silent reminder as he walked both of them to the gate.

The assassin stood in front of the column and raised his chin, facing the square plaque. He hesitated, but when Dragon pressed the blade, he leaned until his right eye aligned with the center of the scan. The gate opened right away.

Dragon grabbed the man and jerked him toward the cell where the rest of his crew lay. He clocked the man unconscious before shoving him inside and slammed the door, locking it.

The faintest noise made him turn around, only to find himself facing yet another dagger and the woman he loved at the same.

“Jade,” he said, wondering if he was dreaming.