Chapter 69 Dante
I found them where I knew they’d be.
Lucian stood near the edge of the streetlight spill, posture tight, eyes scanning every shadow like he could bend the dark itself if he tried hard enough. Amara was beside him—arms crossed, chin lifted, fury practically radiating off her in waves.
The second she saw me, she stepped forward.
I didn’t get a word out before she spoke.
“Before you say anything,” Amara said sharply, “no. I should be here.”
I exhaled through my nose. “This isn’t—”
“She’s my best friend,” she cut in. “And I am not bailing on her now. Not when she’s scared, not when she’s hurting, and definitely not because you decided to open your mouth without thinking.”
She jabbed a finger straight into my chest.
Hard.
“Quit making Seraphine doubt herself,” she snapped. “Or I swear to whatever ancient dragon god is listening, I will kick your ass myself.”
Lucian made a low sound beside her. Not a warning.
Agreement.
I looked down at the finger on my chest, then back at her face.
“She was finally happy,” Amara continued, voice breaking just enough to hurt. “She was starting to feel powerful, confident—like she mattered as herself. And you ruined it with one stupid, careless comment.”
The truth of it hit harder than any blade.
“I didn’t mean—” I started.
“I don’t care what you meant,” she said. “Intent doesn’t clean up the damage.”
Silence stretched.
Then she added, quieter but no less deadly, “You don’t get someone like her twice.”
I swallowed.
Lucian finally spoke. “She chose you,” he said simply. “Even when she was terrified. Even when it cost her everything.”
Amara nodded. “So here’s what’s going to happen.”
She stepped closer, eyes locked on mine.
“You’re going to get her back. You’re going to prove—to her, not to the dragons, not to the kings—that she’s wanted. That she’s chosen. That she’s enough exactly as she is.”
I held her gaze.
“And,” Amara added, a dangerous smile curving her mouth, “when this is over? I expect you to propose. And not some half-assed, ‘we’re mates so it’s assumed’ nonsense.”
She leaned in.
“I want the most beautiful proposal imaginable. The kind she’ll remember for the rest of her life. Because that’s what she deserves.”
For a moment, the world went quiet.
Then I nodded.
Slow. Certain.
“I will,” I said.
Amara searched my face, looking for hesitation.
She didn’t find it.
“I’ll do that,” I continued, voice steady, fire settling into something unbreakable. “And more. I’ll spend the rest of my existence making sure she never doubts herself again. Never feels second to anything—dragon or otherwise.”
Lucian’s shoulders eased a fraction.
Amara stepped back, satisfied—for now.
“Good,” she said. “Because if you don’t?”
She smiled sweetly.
“I’ll remind you.”
And gods help anyone who stood in her way when that happened.
I nodded once.
“Everything,” I said, voice tight. “But we have to find her first.”
Amara didn’t look pleased—not even a little. Her jaw clenched, eyes flashing like she had a dozen things she wanted to say and none of them were kind. But for once, she let it go.
Lucian stepped in before the silence could turn ugly.
“Did you pick up her trail again?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“No. Dead end. It went cold about an hour ago. I was lucky to follow it as far as I did.” I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration burning hot and useless in my chest. “It leads into neutral territory… but I don’t know if pushing in blind is smart. If we cross without warning, we could light a fuse we can’t put out. I won’t risk her life—or yours—on a bad call.”
I hated how uncertain I sounded.
Lucian didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll handle it,” he said calmly.
He was already pulling out his phone, fingers moving fast, precise. This was his domain—quiet power, controlled chaos. I watched him type, send, wait.
Amara crossed her arms and shot me a look that promised we weren’t done talking later.
Minutes stretched.
Finally, Lucian nodded once, eyes lifting from the screen.
“I’ve only alerted Thane and Valin,” he said. “Both are… displeased. But they’re contained.”
“And Kael?” I asked.
Lucian shook his head. “Doesn’t need to know. His territory’s too far out anyway. He’d have to cross someone else’s land to get here, and that would spark the exact war we’re trying to avoid.”
I nodded, decision slamming into place.
That was enough.
I didn’t wait for agreement.
I turned and moved—fast, decisive—straight toward the invisible line that marked neutral territory.
The air changed the second I crossed it.
Heavier. Watchful. Like the land itself was holding its breath.
I didn’t look back.
I knew Lucian and Amara were right behind me—I could feel them, water and steel at my back—but the truth was brutal and simple:
I had no idea where to look.
No trail.
No map.
Just a burning certainty in my chest that she was out there, scared, fighting, alive.
And I would tear apart every forgotten corner of this world until I found her.
Neutral territory be damned.
Lucian caught up to me and clapped a solid hand against my back—grounding, familiar.
“We’ll search every inch,” he said, voice steady and lethal. “Every tunnel, every ruin, every forgotten structure. Even if it kills us.”
I didn’t slow.
“I know,” I replied. “That’s why I didn’t stop.”
Amara swore under her breath and moved ahead of us, boots crunching against gravel and broken concrete. “Okay—before you two go full suicidal hero mode,” she said sharply, spinning to face us, “we need to think.”
I shot her a look, heat snapping under my skin. “We are thinking. We’re thinking find Renee and—”
“No,” she cut in. “You’re reacting. Renee doesn’t react. She plans.”
I stopped.
Lucian did too.
Amara took a breath, clearly forcing herself to slow us down. “If you were her—shadow dragonborn, manipulative, patient, and currently holding a bunch of kidnapped women—you wouldn’t be out in the open. You wouldn’t be moving fast. You’d be somewhere forgotten. Somewhere people don’t go anymore.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Sublevels. Old infrastructure.”
“Exactly,” Amara said. “Storm drains. Abandoned transit hubs. Decommissioned facilities. Places neutral territory stopped caring about decades ago.”
Something clicked—but it raised something else.
I turned my head, slowly, studying her.
“Then answer me this,” I said. “If Renee is collecting dragonborn… why didn’t she take you?”
Amara blinked. “What?”
I stepped closer, voice low, intent. “Your dragon is right at the surface. Even now, I can feel it. So can Lucian. If Renee is hunting power—if she’s gathering dragonborn—why leave you behind?”
Lucian stiffened.
His eyes snapped to Amara.
“…Why didn’t I realize that?” he whispered.
Amara looked between us, genuinely confused now. “Wait—what are you saying?”
Lucian took a slow step toward her, studying her the way only another dragon could. “Your aura. It’s strong. Stable. Not dormant like Seraphine’s was. If Renee was acting purely on instinct—on hunger—you would have been an obvious target.”
Amara’s brow furrowed. “But she never even looked at me twice.”
Exactly.
A cold realization slid into place.
“Because Renee isn’t just collecting dragonborn,” I said grimly. “She’s collecting specific ones.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. “Unawakened. Untrained. Easier to break.”
“And easier to mold,” Amara finished quietly.
I nodded. “Seraphine wasn’t just powerful. She was vulnerable. Conflicted. Human enough to doubt herself.”
Silence fell heavy between us.
Lucian exhaled slowly, anger bleeding into something darker. “That means Renee didn’t miss Amara.”
“No,” I said. “She dismissed her.”
Amara’s hands curled into fists. “So she wanted Seraphine because she didn’t know what she was yet.”
“And because,” I added, fire stirring, “Seraphine was starting to choose.”
Lucian looked at me sharply. “Choose you.”
“Yes.”
Which meant Renee hadn’t just taken Seraphine to collect her.
She’d taken her to stop that choice.