Chapter 2 Chapter Two
Kael
Three hundred and twelve years.
That was how long I had waited.
I had acquired wealth, power, enemies, loyalty, and enough board seats to make lesser men feel important.
None of it compared to waiting.
Waiting was a quiet kind of violence.
It hollowed.
It sharpened.
It turned hope into something dangerous.
The Oracle had promised three flames.
Three souls.
One destiny.
The second was Rowan.
My commander. My second. My mate. My chaos in designer shoes.
And the third…
The third never came.
For centuries, I told myself patience was wisdom.
Then patience became endurance.
Then endurance became grief.
Now I stood in the executive boardroom of Drakon Industries, staring through floor-to-ceiling windows at the city beneath me, and my dragon would not settle.
He paced beneath my skin.
Restless.
Possessive.
Agitated.
Something was coming.
I could feel it in my bones.
In my blood.
In the ancient fire coiled behind my ribs.
“You’re doing it again.”
Rowan’s voice slid across the room, amused and lazy.
I didn’t turn. “Doing what?”
“Brooding.”
“I do not brood.”
“You absolutely brood.” Leather creaked as he shifted in his chair. “You brood so aggressively I’m surprised the windows don’t fog.”
I looked over my shoulder.
Rowan lounged at the boardroom table like he had personally invented leisure. Golden-blond hair, silver eyes, expensive suit, wicked mouth. He had the beauty of something carved by gods during a period of questionable restraint.
He also had the survival instinct of a man who enjoyed poking dragons with sticks.
Unfortunately, he was my favorite person.
“You’re early,” I said.
“You summoned me.”
“I requested your presence.”
“You sent one text that said, ‘Come.’ Very alpha. Very dramatic. Three stars.”
My mouth twitched.
Rowan noticed.
He always noticed.
“You felt it too,” he said, softer now.
The amusement faded from his face, replaced by the warrior underneath.
“Yes.”
He sat forward. “The pull?”
“Yes.”
His silver eyes sharpened. “How strong?”
I looked back toward the city.
“Strong enough that my dragon nearly shifted in the elevator.”
Silence.
For Rowan, silence was rare enough to qualify as a medical emergency.
Then he whispered, “Her?”
I said nothing.
Because hope was a blade, and I had bled on it too many times.
Rowan rose and crossed the room to stand beside me.
“We’ll find her.”
“We’ve said that for two centuries.”
“And we’ve never been wrong.”
I huffed a humorless laugh.
He nudged my shoulder with his. “Kael.”
I looked at him.
There were very few people in existence who could say my name like a command.
Rowan was one.
“Fate is a sadistic little witch,” he said, “but she loves theatrics. If something is stirring today, it’s not random.”
My dragon rumbled agreement.
I hated that both of them were probably right.
Before I could answer, the boardroom doors opened and my assistant stepped inside.
“Mr. Drakon, the new strategic finance associate has arrived. I’m showing her to her office before the meeting.”
The name on the file appeared in my mind.
Violet Ashwood.
Top of her class.
Brilliant.
Orphaned.
No known family.
No magical markers in the background search.
And yet, the moment I had seen her photograph, my dragon had gone utterly still.
“Good,” I said.
My voice came out rougher than intended.
My assistant nodded and left.
Rowan turned slowly toward me.
“Oh.”
I frowned. “What?”
He grinned. “You made the voice.”
“What voice?”
“The ‘I’m two seconds from claiming something and making it everyone’s problem’ voice.”
I glared.
He looked delighted.
Because dragons were possessive creatures.
Alphas more so.
And me?
I had waited three hundred and twelve years for my third flame.
If she had finally arrived, I did not know whether I would be strong enough to let her go.
Violet
Drakon Industries was impossible.
That was the only word for it.
The building rose above the city like it had bullied every other skyscraper into submission. Glass and steel caught the sunlight, sleek and intimidating, the entire structure radiating the kind of wealth that made me want to check my bank account and apologize.
Inside, the lobby looked less like an office and more like the place rich villains met before casually buying islands.
Marble floors.
Living green walls.
Water features.
Soft lighting.
People in suits that cost more than my entire wardrobe.
I stepped inside and immediately felt like my blazer knew it was from a clearance rack.
A man passing by glanced at me.
I smiled.
He looked confused and kept walking.
Excellent. Thriving already.
But beneath the nerves, something else stirred.
The moment I crossed the lobby, awareness prickled over my skin.
Not fear but recognition.
Like some ancient, hidden part of me had lifted its head and gone, finally.
I froze near the security desk.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
We were not doing weird body vibes today.
Today was for being professional, employed, and emotionally unavailable to panic.
A smiling receptionist directed me toward a private elevator. The doors closed behind me with a whisper, sealing out the lobby noise.
The elevator rose.
And with every floor, the strange sensation intensified.
My pulse quickened.
My palms dampened.
The air felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.
By the time the elevator opened, my heart was pounding hard enough to qualify as workplace harassment.
A polished woman with dark hair and a warm smile waited for me.
“Miss Ashwood?”
“Yes. Violet is fine.”
“Welcome to Drakon Industries. I’m Celeste. Mr. Drakon asked that you be shown to your office before the executive meeting.”
“My office?”
She smiled like she knew exactly how absurd that sounded to me.
“Yes.”
I followed her through the executive floor, trying not to openly gawk.
The hallways were lined with glass, offering breathtaking views of the harbor. Sunlight spilled over warm wood floors. Art hung on the walls—real art, not motivational posters telling people to synergize themselves into a breakdown.
Employees moved with quiet confidence.
Several looked up as I passed.
Not in the casual way people glance at a new hire.
No.
This was sharper.
Stranger.
Like they sensed something.
The same way I had spent my entire life sensing things in others.
My skin prickled.
Celeste stopped before a set of double doors, then turned left instead.
“Before the meeting, there’s something we’d like to show you.”
I blinked. “That sounds either exciting or like the opening scene of a murder documentary.”
Her mouth twitched. “I promise, no murder.”
“Comforting. Weirdly specific, but comforting.”
She opened the door.
And I forgot how to breathe.
My office.
Not a cubicle.
An office.
A beautiful office.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the harbor, where sunlight scattered over the water like diamonds. Ships drifted below. The city stretched outward in glittering lines of glass and stone.
The room itself was elegant but warm.
A sleek desk faced the view. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall. A sitting area with two soft chairs occupied the corner. Plants brightened the space. The lighting was gentle.
A space designed for someone important.
My throat tightened.
Nobody had ever given me anything this nice.
Celeste’s expression softened. “Welcome to your new office.”
I stepped inside slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of the desk..
For the first time, I could imagine a life that wasn’t built around survival.
“This is…” I swallowed. “It’s beautiful.”
Celeste smiled. “Mr. Drakon approved the final layout himself.”
I stiffened. “The CEO?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her smile turned unreadable.
Before she could answer, the strange sensation returned.
Stronger.
Deeper.
It moved through me like a pulse.
Like a call.
I turned toward the closed boardroom doors at the end of the hall.
