Page 5 of Saving the Last Heir
My jet-black hair was dull and dirty from the days of travel, my wavy curls unkempt and messy. Even my body looked tired—broad, muscular shoulders hunched forward as if exhausted beyond measure, eyes bloodshot. Each iris was bright blue, but my left pupil was fully and completely dilated from an accidentin childhood, making that eye appear black with a faint rim of icy blue.
Throwing back my drink, I hissed as the liquid burned its way down my throat. I poured another drink before sitting at my desk, looking over the stacks of papers. My duties weren’t as extensive as they would have been had there been more winged dragons, but I did still have things that needed my attention. Our holdings—real estate, moderate and large corporations, as well as smaller businesses that needed to be run—were still vast.
Without members of our race to work the day-to-day tasks, many of those companies had been handed over to humans or other magical races. Though, I still had to sign off on dozens of things a month. Since I’d been gone so long, things had piled up. Setting my glass aside, I went about opening envelopes and logging onto my computer to dive into the dozens and dozens of emails I had.
The work had the opposing effects of both getting me back in touch with all that was required of me, but also lulling me into a stupor of exhaustion. After nearly an hour, I lost track of what I was doing. I blinked a few times, then gave up and rested my head on the desk.
A scream rent the air, tearing me from sleep. Blood curdling and piercing, it dragged me from the abyss of dreamless darkness into wakefulness. The scream came a second time, more gut-wrenching than the first. It was the sound of heartbreak and horror.
“Mom?” I cried, stumbling from my desk and out to the hallway.
In the corridors, I heard the distant sounds of voices calling out. Others had awoken to the sound of my mother’s screams as well.Adrenaline pumped into my veins, shredding the last vestiges of sleep and sending me sprinting down the hall. The third cry sounded like a lament. My heart slammed so hard, trying to shatter my ribs and tear free of my body.
All I could think of was getting to my mom. A hundred images flashed through my mind. A break in? Intruders? Perhaps some feral or rabid wolf shifters had somehow gotten through the reinforced doors and windows of the estate? Or worse, some faction of drakes or wyrms had come to finally rid the world of flying dragons once and for all?
Mom’s sobbing led me back to the hatchery, where I stumbled in to find her on her knees sobbing uncontrollably.
“Mom? What’s wrong? What…”
I trailed off, stumbling as I fell to my knees at the sight of what had caused her such distress. Such heart-rending sadness and hopelessness. The ring of heated stones was empty. Not a shattered shell, not a birthed child. Nothing. The egg was missing. Gone.
2
SHYANNE
“Can you send Dominic in here?” I said over the speakerphone on my desk.
“Sure thing, boss lady,” Eric—one of my mechanics—said and hung up.
Going back to the spreadsheet for parts ordering, I tried to think of how best to do what I was about to do. Did I go the gentle route? The hard-ass route? Or something in between?
A few moments later, a soft knock came at my door.
“Come on in, Dominic,” I called, closing my laptop.
The young man stepped in, looking both confused and nervous. “Uh…hey, Shyanne—er, shit, sorry. I mean, Ms. Witmer.”
I nodded to the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “Sit down, kid.”
The hesitant smile on his face vanished, and he sat down quickly, interlacing his fingers, then wedging them between his legs, eyes locked on the floor.
For a few uncomfortable moments, I sat there, waiting for him to speak first. When it was apparent he wasn’t going to say anything, I stepped in.
“You were late again, Dom,” I said. “That’s the fourth time this month. And for fuck’s sake, you only work here on the weekends, so that’s not a lot of days to get here on time.”
His head snapped up, panic flaring in his eyes.
“Shy—damn—Ms. Witmer, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I was up late last night studying for finals. I lost track of time. I came in as soon as I woke up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “At eleven-thirty? Shift starts at seven.”
His shoulders slumped, and for a second he didn’t look like a seventeen-year-old junior in high school, but more like an eight-year-old boy who’d disappointed his parents.
“I was up until almost four this morning. It’s the algebra that’s fucking—uh…messing me up. I’ll do better. I promise.” He held his hands out pleadingly.
Shaking my head, I sat forward and folded my hands on my desk. “Kid, this is a business. Because you were late, we had to postpone the engine rebuild on the sixty-eight Mustang. When you started your apprenticeship a year ago, you knew how important it was to be on time. You need an entire shift to learn. I think we both know what I have to do.”
He leapt to his feet. “Please, I’ll work late tonightandSunday. I’ll clean the toilets in the employee bathroom every shift for the next month. I’ll pick up your lunch for you every day. Ms. Witmer, I love this garage. I love cars. I have to get into trade school, and Ineedthis job to help pay for stuff and save forschool. I need this apprenticeship to keep my scholarship too. I can’t?—”
