Page 29 of Ashfall

He flew me here in a helicopter.

Behind me, I hear him step forward, his movement smooth and unhurried, like he knew I’d hit the edge and have no choice but to turn back.

"You’re not a prisoner," he says. "If you want to leave, I’ll get you back. But before you do, you should see something."

I glance back, wary. "What?"

He walks over to a nearby stone table, carved into the dark basalt like an altar. Scattered across its surface are several charred notebooks, their covers brittle, corners curling from intense heat. I step closer, drawn despite myself. The pages are scorched and fragmented, but what's left is enough to make my skin crawl—scribbled equations I can't decipher, strange diagrams that pulse with something wrong, and symbols that look less like writing and more like warnings. Twisting spirals. Jagged lines. The kind of markings that feel older than language.The air around them feels colder somehow, like even the fire didn’t dare consume whatever secrets those pages still hold.

"Dennis Price’s logs," he says. "Before he disappeared, he left these. We found them at a burn site he never should’ve had access to."

I lean over, scanning the notes—and my eyes catch something: embedded GPS tags. Coordinates. As I trace the numbers with my fingertip, a chill skates down my spine. I recognize them. I’ve seen this region before in wildfire response reports—just north of a restricted zone buried deep in Forest Service records. A place flagged as unsafe because of unstable terrain and unverified seismic activity. But even then, there were whispers about odd burn patterns, erratic heat signatures, and sightings of strange symbols etched into scorched trees. Seeing them here, tied to Price's logs? It feels like confirmation of something I haven't wanted to admit.

"These lead into restricted federal land," I whisper.

Dax meets my gaze. "I think it’s where he’s been staging. Or hiding. Or worse."

I straighten. "I’m going."

His brows lift. "Alone?"

I meet his gaze, unflinching. "Yes. You already said I’m not a prisoner."

He steps closer, arms crossed, tension tightening his shoulders. "You don’t know what you’re walking into. That zone is dangerous, even without a rogue shifter waiting in the wings."

"And you think I haven’t figured that out?" I snap. "It seems he’s trying to attract my attention, which he’s got. If he thinks of me as just human, he won’t be anticipating that I’m any kind of threat."

Dax’s mouth opens, but I barrel on. "Dennis Price knows the Blackstrike Unit. He knows you, your patterns, your tactics. Ifone of you shows up, he’ll see it coming. But me? I’m just a 'mere human' to him. Disposable. Invisible."

He flinches at that—just a flicker, but I see it.

I press the advantage. "Let me go in. Let me be the variable he didn’t account for. You want to catch him? Then stop trying to wrap me in bubble wrap and start trusting me to do what I came here to do."

For a beat, he doesn’t speak. Then he sighs, long and low.

"You’ll need a ride," he mutters. "Rafe is on standby. He'll take you to the SUV we left at the base camp. Take it to the location. We'll be better able to track you."

I nod, and within minutes, I’m in the air, the rotors screaming overhead as the chopper lifts off the ridge and banks into the open sky. The air is sharp with altitude and smoke, and adrenaline buzzes beneath my skin like an aftershock. I glance out the open side of the helicopter and see him—Dax—standing alone on the landing pad, arms folded, wind tearing through his hair, the firelight catching on the hard lines of his face. He doesn’t move. Just watches me go. Like he’s imprinting the moment. Like he already knows this is going to change everything.

CHAPTER 14

DAX

Iwatch the helicopter vanish into the horizon, its blades slicing through the rising smoke. The sound fades, but the tension in my body doesn’t. Ember’s scent lingers—ash, citrus, defiance—and it coils inside me like a fuse waiting to ignite. My chest tightens with something raw and dangerous. Not fear. Not frustration. Something deeper. Older. A need carved into my very bones.

The dragon in me snarls with hunger, with warning. Every instinct screams to follow, to protect, to claim. She’s only just starting to understand what she’s walking into. And she has no idea how hard it is for me to let her go—how close I am to flying straight after her, whether or not she wants me to.

Mine. The word claws through me, not just as a thought but a truth that pulses deep in my dragon’s core—hot, demanding, elemental. Mine. It rolls through me like thunder, echoing with every beat of my heart. I feel it in my bones, in the fire stirring beneath my skin. The dragon inside me paces, restless and hungry. And gods help me, the part of me that’s still a man wants her no less. Wants her with heat and hunger, yes—but also with something far more dangerous. Something that sounds like forever.

But she wanted space. So I gave her distance—for now. Every instinct in me howled against it, but I held back. Let her breathe. Let her choose. Because even though the fire between us is undeniable, forcing her closer would only push her away.

I call forth my dragon.

Flames lick up my legs, swirl across my chest, and I give in to the surge. The fire moves like it’s part of me—curling with reverence and hunger. Skin gives way to scale as flesh is swallowed in flickers of molten light. My wings unfurl in a burst of heat, massive and sharp-edged, and I roar as the final wave overtakes me. The fire doesn’t consume me. It frees me. With one powerful leap, I tear off from the earth, rising into the sky. In a breath, the man is gone. The dragon takes the sky, forged in flame and bound to the wind.

I follow from above, gliding silently over pine ridges and scorched valleys, riding the thermals in lazy arcs while keeping just high enough not to cast a shadow she’d notice. The forest spreads out beneath me in a patchwork of dark green and burnt umber, whispering warnings only a dragon would hear.

I watch Rafe land the chopper smoothly on a narrow service road and help Ember down with a practiced ease that belies the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t seem to have said much, just nodded to her and led her to the waiting SUV stashed under camo netting near the tree line. I saw the way she paused at the door, scanning the horizon like she felt something—like she felt me. Then she slid into the seat, jaw set, gaze hard.

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