Chapter 133: Standoff In Silk Sheets

Kane stared at the ceiling, tracing the subtle patterns cast by city lights filtering through Cyrus’s blackout curtains.

Beside him, the dragon’s breathing had settled into the deep, even rhythm of sleep, but Kane’s mind refused to follow suit.

The evidence board haunted him—all those scattered pieces demanding connection, begging to form something coherent.

"The Whispering Shard controls spirits," he whispered to the darkness, his voice barely audible above the distant hum of traffic below.

"The Screaming Shard amplifies power. The Mercy Fragment have healing properties"

He shifted carefully, trying not to disturb Cyrus’s sprawled form.

"Three fragments, three functions. Like notes in a song." His fingers twitched against the silk sheets, unconsciously mapping connections in the air.

"The binding agent... synthetic fusion... what if someone’s trying to recreate the original artifact?"

His eyes widened in the darkness as understanding crashed over him like ice water.

Just then, Kane’s phone buzzed against the nightstand, the screen casting a pale glow across his face.

Bob’s name appeared with a message preview.

Kane held his breath, watching Cyrus’s chest rise and fall.

The dragon’s arm remained draped possessively across the space Kane had occupied moments before, fingers still curved as if holding something precious.

Kane lifted the covers millimeter by millimeter. One wrong sound, one shift in the mattress springs, and those crimson eyes would snap open.

Dragon instincts didn’t differentiate between threats and midnight bathroom trips—they only recognized separation.

His bare feet touched the cold hardwood. Cyrus’s breathing hitched.

Kane froze, muscles locked in place, watching for any sign of wakefulness. Cyrus’s brow furrowed slightly, a soft growl rumbling in his throat, but his eyes remained closed.

Three careful steps carried Kane to the nightstand. He snatched his phone, thumb already sliding across the screen to silence any future notifications.

Kane squinted at the timestamp—2:47 AM. What the hell was Bob doing awake at this hour?

The message glowed against his retinas:

Found something about Mercy’s Echo in Dad’s private files. Can we meet up? Just us—easier to talk without your... intense friend hovering.

Kane’s jaw tightened. Bob’s diplomatic phrasing couldn’t mask what he really meant: without Cyrus breathing down their necks like a territorial dragon guarding his hoard.

Which, Kane admitted with a grimace, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

Another message appeared: I know this sounds sketchy, but Dad’s collection has some dark stuff. Things that shouldn’t exist. If this fragment can help your friend, we need to move fast.

Kane glanced back at the bed where Cyrus lay sprawled across the mattress, one arm stretched toward Kane’s empty pillow. Even in sleep, the dragon’s possessive nature couldn’t be contained.

Kane’s fingers trembled over the phone screen. He should wake Cyrus, explain the situation rationally.

But the memory of Cyrus’s barely controlled fury at the hotel made Kane hesitate.

This was about Rina. About saving her life.

Kane typed back quickly:

Where and when?

Bob’s response came immediately:

Marina Pier 7. Meet me in an hour. I’ll bring copies of everything.

Kane pocketed his phone and crept toward the door, each footstep calculated to avoid the floorboards that creaked. His hand closed around the handle.

The door didn’t budge.

A faint shimmer of red energy danced around the frame—dragon magic, seamless and absolute.

"Going somewhere?"

Kane’s blood turned to ice. He turned slowly to find Cyrus sitting upright in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist.

Those terrifying eyes glowed like embers in the darkness, pupils dilated with predatory focus.

"Cyrus, I can explain—"

"Can you?" Cyrus’s voice carried the dangerous calm that preceded volcanic eruptions.

"Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like my fox is attempting to sneak out for the second night running."

The possessive emphasis on ’my’ made Kane’s stomach flip. Kane swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"I was just going to the bathroom."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but desperation made him cling to it.

Cyrus remained motionless for a long moment, those crimson eyes studying Kane with unnerving intensity.

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Then Cyrus tilted his head slightly, and Kane caught the flash of something that might have been hurt beneath the dragon’s predatory mask.

"The bathroom."

Cyrus’s voice held no inflection, but Kane heard the weight behind those two words anyway.

"Yes."

Kane’s hands clenched at his sides, the phone burning like a brand in his pocket.

Cyrus rose from the bed calmly, crossing the room until he stood mere inches away.

Kane forced himself not to retreat, even as every instinct screamed at him to run.

"Kane." Cyrus’s hand came up to cup Kane’s jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone with devastating gentleness.

"Am I also someone you need to lie to?"

The gentleness in Cyrus’s touch shattered Kane’s defenses more effectively than any dragon fire could have.

Kane’s braced for fury, for possessive demands, for the territorial rage that seemed to simmer beneath Cyrus’s surface whenever Bob’s name arose.

Not this quiet devastation.

"I—" Kane’s voice cracked. Lying had been second nature since childhood, a fox’s first defense against a world that saw his kind as tricksters and thieves.

But those crimson eyes held no judgment, only patient waiting.

"Bob texted. He found something about the Mercy Fragment in his father’s files." The words tumbled out in a rush.

"He wants to meet me at Marina Pier...without you."

Kane’s stomach clenched, waiting for the explosion.

Cyrus said nothing. His thumb continued its gentle sweep across Kane’s cheekbone for another heartbeat before his hand dropped away.

Then he turned toward the closet.

"Cyrus?" Kane’s voice came out smaller than intended.

"Get dressed." Cyrus pulled on dark jeans and a black sweater with mechanical precision.

"If we’re meeting Bob Holloway at nearly three in the morning, I suspect we’ll need to be prepared for more than conversation."

Kane blinked. "We?"

Cyrus’s eyes found his in the mirror, that familiar protective gleam already burning bright.

"Did you think I’d let you go alone?"