Page 58 of Fated By Fire

“Empirical evidence? Mara, last month, you based an entire story on a picture of the Mothman somebody had drawn on a paper napkin from Hooters.”

“So what? It was a good picture!”

I groan in frustration. “I actually saw a dragon, Mara. With my own two eyes.” I rub my face. “Look, if you cut me some slackon this, I promise I’ll never make you another tinfoil hat again. Deal?”

She heaves a sigh. “Fine. Deal. But you know how crazy this sounds, right? And you’re taking this from the Queen of Crazy.”

“I know,” I say, my voice softening. “But dragons are real, Mara.”

“Dragons are real,” she repeats, her voice growing firmer. “Woah.” She laughs. “This is actually pretty freaking cool!”

“That remains to be seen,” I grumble. “But I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not even as one of your wild ideas. This isn’t a game, Mara. People—dragons—could get hurt.”

“Dragons could get hurt… God, do you know how long I’ve waited to be in a conversation like this, Lennie? You’ve made my day. No, my week. Hell, my entire year!”

“Glad to be of service. Now promise me,” I say firmly.

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she sighs. “Okay. I promise. But you’d better call me with updates, got it? I’m not letting you disappear into a cabin with some billionaire dragon guy without knowing you’re okay.”

“I’ll call you,” I promise.

“And if you get in any kind of trouble, you activate the Mara bat signal. I’ll be there with my best kickass boots on.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes. She truly has no idea what I’m facing. “But Mara… seriously. Not a word.”

“Not a word,” she repeats. “But when you get back, you’re telling me everything. Dragons? Witches? This is the kind of stuff my TikTok followers would lose their minds over.”

“They’ll have to live without it,” I say firmly. “Love you, Mara.”

“Love you too, weirdo. Be careful.”

I hang up and slide my phone into my pocket, feeling a little lighter now that Mara knows. At least someone does. I grab a duffel bag from the closet and start shoving clothes into it, alongwith my laptop, my mother’s journal, and anything else that feels essential.

As I’m zipping up the bag, the door opens, and Caleb steps back in. He’s carrying a couple of grocery bags, which is such a bizarrely normal sight that it almost makes me laugh.

“Ready?” he asks, setting the bags down by the door.

“Yeah,” I say, slinging the duffel over my shoulder. I expect him to head out immediately, but instead, he walks further into the room and then stops at the corkboard.

“Do you mind if I take this?” he asks, unpinning the Polaroid of Mom that was stuck there. “There’s something I want to follow up on, and this might help.”

I feel a twinge of resistance but shove it down. “Sure,” I say. “As long as I get it back. I don’t have a lot of reminders of her.”

“Of course.” He nods solemnly. “I’ll guard it with my life.” He tucks it into his top pocket and pats his chest.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.” I jerk my head at the door as I reach for my keys. We’ve agreed that I’ll make the drive to the cabin behind him, so I’ll have my car there if I need it. “Let’s get this over with.”

He gives me a long look, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to figure out if I’m going to bolt. I’m not sure I’ve entirely ruled that out yet, but for now, I follow him out the door, bracing myself for whatever comes next.

I just pray it doesn’t involve being incinerated by a hoard of dragons.

Chapter 22

Caleb

The street lights rush past me as I navigate the winding roads back into Seattle. Leaving Elena at the cabin was necessary, but it doesn’t sit well with me. Every instinct screams to keep her close, but I can’t risk her safety—or the Heartstone’s—by letting emotions cloud my judgment.

As I pull into the underground garage of Craven Tower, the weight of the past few days settles heavily on my shoulders. Malakai’s betrayal, the Syndicate’s bold moves, and Elena’s unexpected heritage—all spinning threads in a web that threatens to ensnare us all.

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