Chapter 1 - THE DRAGON ON HIS NECKThe Girl Who Was Never Supposed to Be FoundThe wine glass was already tipping when the baby lunged.
Alina caught it by instinct, server's reflex, faster than thought. Her fingers closed around the stem a fraction before crystal met marble.
At the same instant, the infant threw himself forward.
Whoa. Easy—
He was nine months old, dressed in a tiny white shirt and dark vest, his cheeks wet with tears. He twisted hard in the man's arms, both hands reaching toward Alina with an urgency that made no sense.
The man holding him tightened his grip.
"You never do that."
His voice was low.
Not loud.
It didn't need to be.
Every conversation within twenty feet seemed to disappear.
Alina looked down.
The baby's tiny fingers closed around her index finger.
He stopped crying.
Not slowly.
Instantly.
The sound that came from him was soft and content, almost a sigh.
Alina smiled despite herself.
Then she looked up.
And saw the dragon.
The man's white silk shirt was open at the throat.
Black ink climbed from beneath his collar and curled up the side of his neck, wings spreading toward his jaw, claws disappearing under his shirt.
Alina's smile vanished.
She knew that dragon.
Not because she'd seen it in newspapers.
Not because she'd heard stories.
Because she'd spent twenty years being warned about it.
Her mother's voice came back so clearly it was almost spoken beside her.
"If you ever see the dragon, don't let him know who you are."
Alina's hands began to shake.
She pulled her finger free.
"I'm sorry."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"For what?"
"I have to go."
She turned.
His hand closed around her wrist.
Not violently.
Firmly.
Alina froze.
The restaurant around them was elegant, expensive, polished to the point of feeling unreal. Chandeliers. White linen. Crystal. Men in tailored suits seated too casually to be ordinary businessmen.
Four of them.
One near the entrance.
One at the bar.
Two behind him.
All watching her.
Alina's pulse hammered.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She looked at his hand around her wrist.
"Please let go."
His gaze dropped.
A small silver pendant hung at the base of her throat.
A dragon.
His expression changed.
Barely.
But she saw it.
"Where did you get that?"
"My mother."
"What is your mother's name?"
Alina stepped backward.
He didn't tighten his grip.
He didn't have to.
The entire room already belonged to him.
"My shift is not over," she whispered.
One of the men behind him almost smiled.
The dragon-tattooed man didn't.
"You're lying."
Alina pulled hard.
To her surprise, he let go.
She stumbled back, caught the edge of the service station and ran.
She didn't look behind her until she reached the kitchen.
Then she saw him standing exactly where she'd left him.
The baby was still staring after her.
And the man was staring at the pendant.
By the time Alina reached the employee exit, her lungs were burning.
She ran three blocks before realizing she wasn't being followed.
That frightened her more.
She spent the next twenty minutes changing buses, walking through a grocery store, taking a taxi for six blocks, then another bus.
It was the routine her mother had taught her.
Never take the same route twice.
Never use your real name twice.
Never let anyone know where you sleep.
Never trust a man with a dragon.
When Alina finally reached their apartment, the hallway light was out.
She stopped.
Her mother always left the hall light on.
Always.
Even during the day.
Alina unlocked the door.
"Mom?"
Nothing.
She entered.
The apartment smelled wrong.
Not smoke.
Not gas.
Something colder.
She found her mother in the kitchen.
Elena was standing perfectly still beside the sink.
Her face had gone white.
"You saw him," she whispered.
Alina's throat tightened.
"The man with the dragon."
Elena closed her eyes.
For twenty years, Alina had seen her mother afraid of thunderstorms, ringing phones, strange cars, unfamiliar footsteps.
She had never seen fear like this.
"Mom, who is he?"
Elena crossed the room.
She grabbed the pendant at Alina's throat.
"Where did you get this back?"
"You gave it to me."
"No."
Her mother's fingers trembled.
"I gave you the copy."
Alina stared at her.
"What?"
Elena looked toward the window.
Then the door.
Then back at her daughter.
"The real one was never supposed to leave this house."
Before Alina could answer, every light in the apartment went out.
Silence.
Then three knocks.
Slow.
Precise.
At the front door.
Elena's face collapsed.
She whispered four words.
"The Vescari found us."
Another knock.
This time harder.
And then someone outside said:
"Mrs. Marino, open the door."
Elena seized Alina's hand.
"Run."
A gunshot cracked through the apartment door.
Glass exploded from the kitchen window.
And somewhere in the darkness, Alina heard her mother scream her full name.
The name she'd never been allowed to use.
May you like
The name she had never known was dangerous.
"Alina Vescari!"
Related Stories
