Chapter 72: Daydreams And Delays

Kane’s fingers twitched against the chair’s armrest.

His mind raced through the implications—returning to regular Bureau assignments, desk reports, and the familiar rhythm of his old life.

No more penthouse mornings.

No more watching Cyrus work through corporate strategies while pretending not to care.

No more shared meals or quiet moments that felt dangerously close to something neither of them would name.

"The investigation isn’t complete," Kane heard himself saying. "Veyr Corp’s resources have been invaluable in tracking international connections."

Commander Qi’s antlers caught the light as he tilted his head, studying Kane with renewed interest.

"You’re saying you want to maintain your cover?"

Kane’s throat felt dry. "I’m saying the mission requires it, sir. Walking away now would compromise months of intelligence gathering."

"And Drakhal? You’re comfortable continuing to work directly under him?"

The question carried weight beyond professional concern. Qi’s green eyes seemed to see straight through Kane’s careful composure.

"Cyrus Drakhal is..." Kane paused, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much.

"He’s proven to be a valuable asset to the investigation."

Commander Qi leaned back in his chair, bronze antlers gleaming under the office lights.

"Very well, Ashwood. Continue your undercover assignment, but I want weekly reports. No more communication blackouts."

"Understood, sir."

He left Qi’s office and navigated through the BSA’s familiar corridors to the investigative bullpen.

His real desk sat exactly as he’d left it. Ginsei glanced up from his workspace. His ice-blue eyes narrowed with surprise.

"Well, well. The prodigal fox returns to his natural habitat."

Kane dropped into his chair, ignoring the serpent’s tone.

"Miss me already, Ginsei?"

"Hardly. I assumed you’d forgotten where you actually work." Ginsei’s voice carried its usual silk-wrapped venom.

"Playing house with dragons must be exhausting."

Kane pulled up his computer terminal, fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Jealousy suits you."

Kane pulled up the report template, the cursor blinking against the white screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the words wouldn’t come.

Subject: Veyr Corp Investigation - Mediterranean Connections

He typed the header, then stared at the blank document.

Kane’s mind drifted to their time on the Silver Mermaid, Cyrus’s rare laughter during their ridiculous mini-golf game, and the way morning light had caught the dragon’s profile through their suite windows.

He shook his head sharply. Those moments weren’t part of the mission—they were dangerous territory he had no business exploring.

Kane deleted the line and started again.

Subject: Artifact Trafficking - International Network

Better. More professional.

He began typing details about Bernard Holloway’s operation, but his mind wandered again.

Was Cyrus back at Veyr Corp already? Had he handed over the chalice to Madam Xiu? Was he checking another item off his corporate to-do list?

Kane’s amber eyes drifted to the window overlooking downtown Feilun.

The dream state flickered through Kane’s memory—silver mist and crimson fire intertwining, the moment when they’d both stopped walking away from each other.

What had that meant? What would have happened if they’d kept moving toward opposite horizons?

Kane pulled out his phone and hovered his thumb over Cyrus’s contact.

He could ask about the chalice—whether Madam Xiu had accepted it, if their arrangement was officially complete.

But Cyrus was probably buried in meetings and corporate responsibilities. The last thing he needed was Kane’s random texts interrupting his carefully structured day.

Kane set his phone face-down on his desk and forced himself to focus on the report.

His phone buzzed against the desk.

Kane’s heart jumped as he flipped it over, expecting Cyrus’s name on the screen.

Instead, he found a message from Ginsei.

Still daydreaming about your dragon?

Kane’s ears flattened against his head.

He shot a glare across the desk where Ginsei sat less than five feet away, pale green hair perfectly arranged, ice-blue eyes fixed on his own computer screen with feigned innocence.

"Really?" Kane said aloud. "You’re texting me from your desk?"

Ginsei’s lips curved into that familiar serpentine smile.

"Your tail’s been twitching for the past ten minutes. Withdrawal symptoms?"

Kane deleted the message without responding and turned back to his report.

The afternoon sun slanted through the BSA’s windows. Kane saved his report and pushed back from his desk, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

Most agents were still buried in paperwork, but Kane had stretched his concentration as far as it would go.

"Leaving already?" Ginsei’s voice carried that familiar note of mock concern.

Kane shrugged into his jacket, avoiding the serpent’s calculating gaze.

"Finished what I needed to finish."

"How industrious." Ginsei set down his pen and leaned back in his chair.

"Since you’re free, why don’t we grab dinner later? We could catch up properly—you can tell me all about your Mediterranean adventure."

The invitation sounded casual enough, but Kane caught the underlying curiosity. Ginsei never did anything without an agenda.

"Thanks, but I already have plans."

"Oh?" Ginsei’s eyebrows raised slightly. "Anyone I know?"

Kane’s tail twitched before he could stop it.

"Just dinner plans."

Kane stepped out of the BSA, the late afternoon air warm against his face.

He pulled out his phone and hovered his thumb over Cyrus’s contact again.

The logical thing would be to call—let Cyrus know he’d chosen to continue their arrangement, and maybe suggest meeting for dinner.

But then Kane remembered Cyrus’s eating habits. The dragon doesn’t usually take his dinner...or lunch, or breakfast.

Still, Kane found himself walking toward the metro station.

The train arrived fifteen minutes late, packed with commuters.

Kane squeezed into a corner as passengers jostled around him. Every stop seemed to drag on forever—delays, mechanical issues, more delays.

By the time Kane emerged from the underground station near Veyr Corp, the sky had darkened to deep purple.

The towering glass building stood against the cityscape, but most of its windows were dark.

Kane approached the security desk, amber eyes scanning for any sign of life in the building’s upper floors.

"Excuse me, is Mr. Drakhal still—"

"Building’s closed," the guard interrupted, rising from his chair. "No unauthorized personnel after hours."

"I’m his assistant—"

"Move along, kid."

The guard’s hand moved toward his radio, clearly prepared to escalate the situation.

Kane backed away from the glass doors, hands raised in surrender.

He stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the building’s dark silhouette, wondering if Cyrus was still up there.