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I weave past the few cars on the road, their speed far too slow for me. My singular goal at the front of my mind: get to Sylus immediately. Any other thoughts were forcefully shoved aside, I didn’t have the mental capacity for anything else.
To process what happened back in Skyhaven.
That Caleb was still alive.
What he did.
No, no, can’t go there.
I rev my bike even faster and the rest of the N109 zone passes in a blur.
Finally I pull into the garage under his mansion, barely putting the kickstand down and turning the bike off before I’m striding through the entryway. Mephisto swoops by, cawing anxiously. I hadn’t seen him at the beginning of my ride, so he must’ve only started tailing me for the past few minutes.
Going through the main foyer, I don’t get my usual welcome from Luke and Kieran, but that’s okay. Not sure I could manage any words right now. I make a beeline for Sylus’s office, barely holding off the chaos in my mind.
I just need to get to Sylus. Then I’ll be safe.
He’ll make sure I’m safe.
But when I push open the door, I’m greeted with silence. No classical music drifting from the vinyl player, no snarky comment about barging in without knocking, nothing to indicate his grounding presence.
Panic squeezes my chest, but there’s a couple more places I can check first. The armory, the boxing gym, the kitchen. Surely he’ll be here somewhere, right? He’s gotta be.
I know this was the longest I’d been off the grid and out of contact with him since we’ve gotten to know each other, but he knows how it is. How missions work, how you have to infiltrate and go underground sometimes to deal with problems. He’s the head of Onychinus after all. Surely he does things like that all the time.
Mephisto follows me as I search the rooms, cawing softly every once in awhile as if to try and soothe my growing anxiety. When I find the master bedroom empty, I lose motivation to look any more.
He’s not here.
Sylus isn’t here, and the twins aren’t here.
Despair threatens to swallow me whole. I was barely holding it together, and reaching him was the main reason I hadn’t crumbled yet. Still, there was one last shred of hope. I wasn’t completely alone. Mephisto was here—on his perch now—watching me with his ruby eyes. Which meant Sylus would know I was here. Probably on his way to see what was wrong and why I had shown up out of the blue at an uncharacteristic time for me.
I just need to hold out until he gets here.
SYLUS
Something was definitely wrong.
First, she had gone radio silent for several days—not responding to any of his calls or texts—and then Mephisto spots her riding at a breakneck pace towards the base at 2:53 in the morning like her tail was on fire? Normally she rode more safely than that.
Every protective instinct demanded he return and find out what scared her so much.
And kill it immediately.
Only issue was he had been out with Luke and Kieran dealing with some pests, which hadn’t been close to home. They were en route but still 45 minutes away when she finally reached the base. His chest ached as he briefly checked Mephisto’s live feed again, showing her frantically searching the rooms for him.
He would’ve called her, except she didn’t seem to have her phone on her. Otherwise she would’ve seen the texts he left.
If she lost it, I’ll buy the newest version and give it to her tomorrow.
After he’s made sure she’s safe, checked her for injuries, and completely destroyed any and all threats.
He presses down on the gas pedal even more, phantom echos of claws gripping the steering wheel, determined to bend space and time to get back at record speed.
When Sylus finally reaches his base, he pulls up next to her bike, noting the helmet carelessly dropped on the concrete floor. She usually at least hangs it on one of the handle bars. His long legs eating up the distance, he makes straight for where Mephisto last reported her location. Where she hadn’t moved from in the past 30 minutes.
First thing his sharp gaze snags on when he entered the master suite was the bedding. Rather, how much of it was missing. The multiple pillows were gone and the comforter seems to have been pulled off unceremoniously, leaving only the mussed up sheets on the king sized mattress.
Something pricks at the edge of his subconscious, an idea he dare not let solidify.
A quick scan of the rest of the room reveals nothing else out of place, no other possessions of his seized by the normally feisty kitten. The only other indication something was amiss was the door to his walk in closet was cracked open.
“Sweetie?” Sylus asks, knocking softly before slowly pushing the door wider.
Instead of feeling relief, his heart cracks as he takes in her huddled form, tucked as far into the corner as she could manage. Under a row of hanging shirts, she was curled up in a nest of pilfered pillows and a comforter cocoon. Every aspect of her behavior—the unnatural stillness, the unfocused eyes, how tightly she clung to the blanket—screamed that she was in full on survival mode, perhaps had even gone into shock.
And her first instinct was to soothe herself with her mate’s scent. His scent.
He shook his head slightly as if to dislodge the thought he’d been trying to resist. She’s human, she wouldn’t think the way he does. She didn’t have ancient, primal instincts demanding things a dragon would require. No, what he needed to focus on taking care of her first. Finding out what happened.
She didn’t seem to have registered his presence though, so he tried softly calling out again.
“Kitten, are you injured?”
He eased himself towards her, crouching down to her level. He was just about to reach out and brush her shoulder when she became a blur of movement. She struck hard and fast, pulling out a dagger that had been hidden under the comforter, seeking to defend herself against this invader.
But Sylus was faster.
He caught her wrist with the blade inches away from his chest, never once taking his eyes off of his precious hunter. Internally, he swelled with pride at how ferocious her ambush had been, even in her vulnerable state. She thrashed and attempted to free her arm, but Sylus held firm.
“It’s only me, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She faltered, finally looking at him directly. She blinked a few times, as if to clear away whatever visions were haunting her, and he held still. Seconds tick by—although it felt like eternity—and recognition dawned in her gaze.
“Sylus.” Barely audible, and whatever was holding her together seemed to break.
The knife clattered onto the floor as she burrowed into his arms, seeking refuge in his embrace. Her sobs shook her whole body, and he could feel the hot tears on his shoulder. He held her tightly, anchoring her through her storm. One hand rubbing soothing motions up and down her back, while the other gently checked for wounds, searching for any hint as to what happened to his beloved.
Once satisfied that there were no physical injuries, Sylus shifted positions so he sat with his back against the wall of the closet. He cooed reassurances at his kitten in his arms while adjusting her so she was most comfortable, keeping her head tucked in the warmth of his shoulder.
“I’m here, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”
He would sit and hold her for the rest of eternity if she wanted.