Page 109 of Wings of Shadow
Nikolaas hasn’t spoken since we left Draken Manor. He’s gripping the wheel so tightly the leather creaks, his jaw clenched like iron. We’re not allies. Not friends. But the storm in his eyes matches mine—and for now, that’s enough.
I don’t care that we travel in silence. I don’t need his words. All I need is a target. All I need is her.
The compound comes into view like a wound in the forest. Hidden deep within the Forêt Domaniale de Rambouillet, the Mahindra base sprawls out beneath the trees—camouflaged with glamours and illusion, encircled in layers of magical wards and reinforced steel. From above, it’s nothing more than shadows and brush. From the ground, it’s a fortress.
Nikolaas kills the headlights as we roll to a stop in the shade of old pines. The air is crisp, quiet—but wrong. It smells like old metal, burned incense, dried blood. I open the door, stepping out into the night, and every muscle in my body coils with anticipation.
The dragon beneath my skin is already stirring, hungry and poised. He can smell her. The fear. The blood. The chains.
I draw a deep breath, steadying myself against the tremor of fury. The trees whisper around us. Magic pulses faintly through the underbrush.
Nikolaas shuts his door softly and circles around the SUV, his voice low and razor-edged. “Remember what matters. We get in, we get Clarissa, and we get out.”
My gaze flicks to him. His face is hard, expression unreadable—but his eyes betray him. Gleaming gold. He’s on the edge.
“Understood,” I growl. “Nothing else matters.”
But we both know that’s a lie. Because if they’ve hurt her—if she bears even one mark from them—I won’t leave anything standing.
We move through the trees like shadows, fast and silent. Every branch we pass hums with latent magic. Wards—sloppily disguised, hastily triggered. They knew someone might come. But they never prepared for us.
Not for two dragons.
Nikolaas raises a hand, signaling a stop. I freeze, crouched beneath a thicket of brambles, the static buzz of protective spells prickling over my skin like needles. Ahead, a tall iron gate glimmers with spellwork—veins of light pulsing up and down its frame. Behind it, the compound stretches inward like a beast’s maw.
“We need to hit them fast and hard,” Nikolaas mutters. “Their wards are tuned for stealth threats—not shifters. If we breach with force, it’ll confuse them long enough to break through.”
He turns to look at me.
“On my count, we shift. Straight through the front. Let panic be our cover.”
I nod, my muscles already tensing in anticipation. As much as it galls me to follow his lead, I know this isn’t the time for power struggles. We need to work together if we’re going to save Clarissa.
Nik starts the count—three fingers raised.
Three…
Two…
One.
I let the change rise like a tide.
Strength surges through my limbs—searing, electric, ancient. My spine arches as bones stretch and reforge, scales racing across my skin in black ribbons of obsidian and ember. My hands become talons. Wings explode from my back, massive and midnight-hued. Fire rises in my throat, caged and ready.
Nikolaas shifts beside me, golden and radiant, his form larger than mine but barely contained, heat rolling off him in waves. His eyes glow like twin suns.
Together, we erupt through the trees, claws tearing through undergrowth and ward lines alike. Alarm spells burst in showers of sparks as we tear through the compound’s perimeter. The wards scream—but we bellow louder.
The gates break in half beneath the might of our maws.
Our combined roar shakes the forest.
Mahindra guards spill from buildings, wide-eyed and shouting, casting frantic incantations that bounce harmlessly off our scales. One of them raises a gleaming hand—Nikolaas incinerates him with a single breath. Another tries to run. I snap my jaws and crush the earth at his heels, sending him sprawling.
Steel towers rise ahead. Tunnels snake beneath them.
Clarissa’s scent burns in my nostrils—faint, but unbroken. She’s alive.
