Page 8 of Dying in Flames (Reborn 4)
“I think she will be fine,” I said quietly, trying to not consider the idea of our mate rejecting us because of our dragons’ protective natures.
No. It would be fine. She would be fine. I had to believe that.
“I hope so, because I have a feeling that we are going to have visitors once people receive word we are back in town. I don’t trust my dragon to keep his control.”
Anani grunted, nodding towards the television he’d just turned on, the channel turned to the news station. My eyes widened, realizing that it was a story about a missing woman… Maya. They thought she’d been kidnapped. Goddamnit.
I swore as I called for Atlas, my voice echoing through the house, knowing this was going to cause a ton of fucking problems.
“They camped out here for about fifteen days.” Atlas jogged down the steps, looking frustrated and already aware of our concern. “Fucking pests. I swear, the human media has always been insane, but this is something else. No doubt those fuckers from the FBI are going to be sniffing around again.”
“It does look bad,” Anani admitted begrudgingly. “What the hell are we going to tell them?”
“To fuck off,” Atlas bit out as I began boiling water, trying to consider how to handle this. A thought occurred to me, but it felt dangerous to give that much exposure to the bastard in question. Still, I put it out there.
“What if we told them she’d been kidnapped by Malcolm, who is now on the run, and that we managed to save her?” I asked quietly, causing both of them to look at me in surprise. “We may get a lead on where the hell the bastard is.”
My twin nodded, seeming to agree completely, and went back to watching the news.
“Let’s talk to Marco about that,” Atlas said. “It could work.”
I hoped it would, because we needed something to get the attention off Maya. Either way, I had a feeling our peaceful property wouldn’t remain that way for long. No doubt Atlas was going to want to increase security. I felt anger surge through me at people bothering—
“Ledger.” Atlas had a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my haze. The kitchen counter under my grasp had a hairline crack in it. I retracted my hand, trying to shake myself and the clear lack of self-control I was exhibiting.
“Go shower,” Atlas demanded.
Shit.I was still covered in blood.
I traveled upstairs, running a hand down my bloodied face, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. We needed a private island to move to. It was the only possible solution.
Outside of killing everyone that bothered us, of course.
