Page 3 of Firedrake Betrayal
Her dad was adragon.
I turn to Shep. “That chain. While Atticus was busy gassing us, Jade sounded like she’d figured out how to get it off him. What if without that chain, dragon guy could suddenly be a dragon again?”
Shep returns my stare then slowly angles his head up.
I do the same.
A dragon blasted through the roof of the building, saving us from the trap Atticus caught us in—or that we walked right into. What’s to say another dragon didn’t take advantage of all that open sky to carry Jade away?
Thud.
A French curse rings out. I snap my head toward Isaiah.
He’s glaring down at a gray-faced Brennan who is slowly sitting up, looking, quite frankly, like fucking death. Blackened, smoking stone beside Isaiah suggests he was lucky to have avoided being turned into a crispy fried vampire.
“I wastryingtohelpyou,” Isaiah bites out.
“And see what you get for your trouble?” I cross over to Brennan. “Jade is gone. Would the other dragon guy have taken her?”
“He has a name, Patten,” Shep says.
“And I’ll remember to use it before I kill him for taking Jade.” I don’t look away from Brennan. “Hunter?”
“He might have. You’re sure she isn’t here?” Brennan moves to get up.
I lift my eyes because I have no interest in seeing Jade’s dad full-frontal.
Brennan slams into the ground before he’s made it up half-way.
“That doesn’t look good,” I say, my eyes narrowing when I spot something I missed before.
“What doesn’t look good?” Shep asks.
I point. “That.”
Right where the bolt punctured Brennan’s side are fine strands of silver that look like veins. And they’re spreading.
Shep bends to peer closer.
I grab his shoulder and pull him back.
Shep looks at me. “What is it?”
“Oh sorry, would you prefer a face full of fire?” I nod at the blackened spot that was very nearly Isaiah’s cremated remains.
Shep drops into a crouch beside Brennan. “He’s out cold. That bolt looks like it’s poisoning him. I should pull it out.”
So that’s how a crossbow bolt could take down a dragon the size of a tank.
Shep wraps a large, tanned hand around the bolt and pulls it out. I’d expected more blood to gush out. What little that does has flecks of silver in it. Something tells me that isn’t a good thing.
“I don’t think it hit an organ,” Shep says, tossing the bolt aside. “Rip some of your shirt so I can cover the wound. Maybe that’ll stop whatever is happening to him.”
Since I have no desire to look like I’m wearing a crop top, I snort. “Maybe we should?—”
“We need to leave.Now,” Isaiah interrupts.
“What’s the hurry?” I do another quick scan of the ruin. Nothing. It’s just us here.
