The office was dimly lit now, thest streaks of dusk slipping beneath the horizon. Saphira sat curled sideways in one of the leather chairs, <b>her </b><b>legs </b>tucked beneath her, gaze drifting between the fire crackling low in the hearth and the silent stretch of sky outside the window.
Niks stood by the desk, phone pressed to his ear for what felt like the tenth time that hour. She watched the tension in his shoulders rise with each passing second of silence on the line.
“No signal,” he muttered eventually, setting the device down with a quiet thud. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, the motion slow and deliberate. “<b>If </b>I don’t hear anything by the end of the night… I’m going after them.”
Saphira’s chest tightened. She didn’t like it–not the waiting, not the silence, not the thought of what might’ve gone wrong. But still… she nodded. “As much as I hate the idea, I agree.”
Niks turned to face her fully, brow raised as if reading something else in her tone.
“I’m going with you,” she added, voice firm, rising from the chair.
“No,” he said quickly. “Saphira-”
She held up a hand, stepping closer. “I grew <b>up </b>in that pack, Niks. I know the territory better than anyone else you could take. The shortcuts. <b>The </b><b>blind </b>spots. The signs they wouldn’t seeing.“.
He hesitated–eyes narrowing, not out of disagreement, but because he knew she was right.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking again. “I should tell Zafira. She deserves to know what’s happening.”
Saphira’s voice gentled, but it didn’t waver. “Not yet.”
Niks nced at her, questioning.
“She’s still healing,” she said, her tone softer now. “And she may have just found her mate. If we tell her now, all we’re doing is giving her fear she can’t do anything with.”
He searched her face, then gave a slow nod, reluctantly conceding.
Saphira moved to his side, her hand resting lightly on his forearm. “We’ll find them,” she said. “But we wait. Just a few more hours. If they don’te through by then… we move.”
And in that quiet, standing beside him in the flickering firelight, Saphira felt the coil of dread twist again–but this time, it had purpose.
Saphira sat back down on the sofa, her knee brushing against the side cushion as she nced over at Niks. He was still standing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on nothing. The same restless pacing she’d watched him fall into all evening.
“Nik,” she said gently, patting the space beside her. “Please, Sit.”
He hesitated, jaw tight. But after a beat, he moved, settling beside her with a quiet exhale. His knee bumped lightly against hers<b>. </b>
“They’re okay,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking about the territory.<b>” </b>
He nced at her sideways.
She offered a small, crooked smile. <b>“</b>You know how many <b>times </b>my <b>dad</b>–Lupus–used to storm through the house ranting about terrible <b>phone </b>service<b>? </b>
A dry snort escaped Niks despite himself.
“I’m serious,” Saphira said, the smile tugging at the edges <b>of </b>her mouth. “The pack’s territory <b>wraps </b><b>in </b>and out <b>of </b><b>thick </b>forest<b>–</b><b>dense</b><b>, </b><b>high</b><b>–</b><b>canopy </b><b>stuff</b>. Half <b>the </b>ground is rock beds, and the signal drops like <b>crazy </b>once you’re three paces from the main <b>road</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
Niks rubbed a hand <b>across </b>his <b>jaw</b><b>, </b>thoughtful. “<b>Didn’t </b>they all mind–<b>link </b><b>instead</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
Saphira shrugged. “They did, mostly. But Lupus had… contacts. Human <b>ones</b><b>. </b>And when he needed to call <b>them</b><b>? </b><b>The </b>man nearly <b>threw </b><b>his </b><b>phone </b>off a cliff- more than once.”
That earned a faint chuckle from Niks. It wasn’t much–but it cracked through the storm cloud in his posture.
Saphira nudged him with her shoulder. “See? You’re already worrying about nothing.”
“I wouldn’t call it nothing,” he muttered–but the wordscked heat now.
She leaned into the lull between them, then added more softly, “Hey… can dragons mind–link?”
Niks blinked, clearly not expecting the shift. “Sort of,” he said after a moment. “It’s<b>… </b>different. Trickier. When I was younger, I managed <b>it </b><b>once </b>or twice<b>, </b>but only when things were bad–when instincts were sharper than thought.”
Saphira listened, curious.
He nced at her, eyes a little more thoughtful now. “I’ve heard it’s easier between mates. Once <b>the </b>bond is strong, and their dragons <b>start </b>to<b>… </b>sync. <b>It’s </b>not just thoughts–it’s emotions, intentions. Reflex<b>, </b>even.”
“I was thinking,” she murmured, voice quiet but thoughtful, “if dragons can mind link… what do we need to do <b>to </b><b>get </b><b>there</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
Niks nced at her, brow raising. “nning to read my mind already?”
She gave him a small smirk. “I just think it would make life easier.”
He chuckled softly, gaze warming as he leaned back beside her. “It’s not impossible,” he said. “But it’syered. First, you <b>need </b>to be fully in sync <b>with </b><b>your </b>dragon–mind, instinct, body. That kind of connection doesn’t just flick on overnight.”
Saphira nodded slowly.
There was a small beat of silence, and then he added more quietly, “Then there’s <b>us</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
She looked over at him, watching how his jaw tensed just a little. <b>“</b><b>Us</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Our rtionship,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “It’s strong. But… I know it hasn’t exactly been soft or slow. <b>I’ve </b>thrown a lot on you. We’ve had to survive more than… breathe.”
Saphira softened. She reached out and touched his knee gently, grounding him. “Niks, <b>we’ve </b>both done <b>the </b><b>best </b><b>w </b>long that existing together already feels like a kind of miracle.” <ol><li>d. We’ve been surviving for so </li></ol>
Still, he huffed a breath and offered her <b>a </b>small smile. “I should still find ways to… do better. Smaller things. Little dates<b>. </b>Space just for us<b>.</b>”
She gave him a look. “You don’t have to apologise for not taking me on a pic during a war,
“I might still n one,” he teased under his breath:
Then his <b>voice </b>steadied. “Once there’s trust between <b>us</b>–and strength<b>, </b>real emotional strength–that forms <b>a </b>kind of bond between our dragons<b>, </b>too, <b>And </b>once <b>they </b>sense that, they’ll start to connect. Not just <b>through </b>instinct, but through emotion. Through choice.<b>” </b>
Saphira leaned in, resting her head gently against his shoulder<b>, </b>heart beating a little steadier. “So they need time. Like us.”
“Exactly,” Niks said. “Time… and a chance to just be<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“Then <b>we </b><b>give </b>them that,” she whispered. “And maybe <b>one </b><b>day</b><b>…</b>I’ll hear <b>you </b><b>in </b><b>my </b>head and not just when <b>you’re </b><b>brooding </b><b>across </b><b>a </b><b>room </b>
<b>He </bughed, low and warm, and she felt it rumble <b>beneath </b>her cheek.
<b>Saphira </b><b>leaned </b>in, <b>the </b>heat <b>of </b>the <b>fire </b><b>casting </b><b>soft </b><b>light </b><b>across </b>Niks‘ <b>face</b>, her breath <b>catching </b><b>just </b><b>slightly </b><b>as </b><b>the </b>space <b>between </b>them <b>met </b><b>hers</b><b>–</b><b>steady</b><b>, </b>waiting–and <b>time </b><b>felt </b>as <b>though </b>it had folded <b>in </b><b>on </b><b>itself</b><b>, </b><b>quiet </b>and full of <b>promise</b>.
Then the shrill ring of the phone shattered the moment.
They both flinched.
Niks reached for the device instinctively, and when Jed’s name lit up the screen, the air in the room constricted. Saphira’s heart skipped.
For a beat, neither of them moved–just stared at the screen, breath suspended.
Then Niks answered, voice tense and low. “Jed<b>?</b>”
<b>Chapter </b><b>Comments </b>
3