The dinner at the manor was suffocating. Silence hung over the table like a shroud, as if Death itself had settled over the room. Yet, beneath the stillness, Noko and Relena were energized. They thrived on the tension, knowing that at any moment, Drake’s shadow side could swallow them whole.

  ?Relena leaned toward her cousin, her voice a sharp, provocative needle. "Does Kay know how small you really are?"

  ?The room went cold. Drake didn't say a word, but he shot Relena a look that pierced her to her core—a dark, controlling gaze that wordlessly reined her in. Relena felt a thrumming heat bloom inside her, and Noko felt it, too.

  ?Across the table, Lazerlot suddenly winced. A chaotic flood of mental images and raw, desperate thoughts began to bleed into his mind—and only his. He caught the pulse of their shared desire: Take me. Fuck everyone here. Let them watch. We want you.

  ?Lazerlot’s eyes widened, his face flushing with confusion. He looked between the two women, wondering if he was losing his mind or if they were truly broadcasting such reckless, carnal thoughts in the middle of a formal dinner.

  ?Drake stood, his presence dominating the room. "Well then. Shall we get going, ladies?"

  ?Noko and Relena rose in unison. "Yes, Daddy," they said, the word slipping out before they quickly corrected themselves: "Yes, sir."

  ?The rest of the table sat paralyzed in shock. Drake turned his attention to Crisis, his voice deceptively smooth. "Crisis, look at me. Call me when that list is ready for pickup. My number is at the bottom."

  ?Drake flashed a smile, but his eyes told a different story. Something ancient and predatory had awakened within him once again. The car ride was a suffocating void. The only sound was the low, hungry growl of the engine as it revved through every green light. Lazerlot opened his mouth to speak several times, but the words died in his throat; the air in the car was too heavy to breathe. The drive took only thirty-five minutes, but to the three of them, it felt like thirty-five hours.

  ?"Lazerlot, please stay in the bus for the night. The three of us have to talk," Drake said. His voice was a low, gravelly tone dripping with the same darkness that had consumed the dinner.

  ?Relena and Noko stood frozen on the pavement. As Lazerlot retreated to his seat and returned to his stoic, robotic self, Drake merely pointed toward the apartment. Both women giggled—not with joy, but with a sharp, jagged edge of fear. They walked ahead of him, and the apartment door clicked shut behind them with the finality of a coffin lid.

  No lights. Only the cold blue wash of moonlight slicing through half-drawn blinds, painting silver bars across the hardwood. Drake didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air itself seemed to thicken in his presence, heavy with the same ancient, predatory cold that had drained the color from Mr. Peacecraft’s face.

  Relena and Noko stood frozen a few steps inside, still in their dinner finery—Relena’s silver dress catching moonlight like liquid mercury, Noko’s dress blues crisp and authoritative even now. Both breathing too fast. Both pupils blown wide.

  Drake leaned back against the door, arms crossed, watching them. The smirk from dinner lingered, but it had sharpened into something crueler. Hungrier.

  “Strip.”

  The command landed soft. Almost gentle. That made it worse.

  Noko moved first—always the soldier, obeying before thought could catch up. Buttons parted under trembling fingers. Fabric whispered to the floor. Relena followed a heartbeat later, slower, like she was fighting every inch and losing beautifully. The silver dress pooled around her ankles like spilled moonlight.

  They stood bare before him, skin prickling in the chill, hearts slamming loud enough to hear.

  Drake pushed off the door. Slow steps. Deliberate. Each one echoed like a countdown.

  He stopped in front of Relena first. One hand rose, fingers curling lightly around her throat—not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Possessing. Her pulse fluttered wildly against his palm like a trapped bird.

  “You pushed tonight,” he murmured, voice gravel and smoke. “Poked the dragon in front of your family. In front of him.” His thumb stroked once along her jugular. “Did it feel good, little needle? Knowing I’d have to remind you who owns the point?”

  Relena’s lips parted on a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

  His grip tightened—just enough. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her knees soften.

  Behind her, Noko stepped closer, pressing her front to Relena’s back, hands sliding up to cup Relena’s breasts, offering them up like tribute. Noko’s breath was hot against Relena’s ear. “We both wanted it. We broadcast it. Couldn’t help ourselves.”

  Drake’s gaze shifted to Noko. Dark. Endless. “And you, soldier? You looked at me like you wanted to be broken tonight.”

  Noko’s chin lifted in defiance, even as her body betrayed her—nipples tight, thighs pressing together. “Maybe I do.”

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  He released Relena’s throat only to fist a hand in Noko’s short hair, yanking her head back sharply. She moaned—low, involuntary, wrecked.

  “Good girls don’t lie,” he said. “And you two? You’re very, very bad tonight.”

  He walked them backward like that—Noko’s hair in his grip, Relena stumbling in front—until the backs of their knees hit the edge of the massive bed. Black sheets. Black headboard. Shadows swallowing everything except the three of them.

  Drake shoved them down together. They landed in a tangle of limbs, breath hitching.

  He loomed above, still fully dressed, the dragon pin on his lapel glinting like a warning.

  “Hands above your heads. Both of you.”

  They obeyed instantly.

  He climbed onto the bed, knees bracketing their hips, pinning them beneath his weight without touching. Not yet.

  “You’re going to take everything I give you tonight,” he said quietly. “Every dark piece. Every memory I’ve carried. Every time I wanted to ruin you both and never let you leave.” His fingers traced down Relena’s sternum, between her breasts, lower, lower, stopping just short of where she ached. “And you’re going to thank me for it.”

  Relena arched, seeking contact. “Please—”

  “No.” His hand snapped to her throat again—firmer this time. “You beg when I say.”

  Noko whimpered beside her, thighs clenching. “Drake—”

  He turned that lethal gaze on her. “You too, baby. You’ll beg. You’ll cry. You’ll come apart screaming my name until you forget every other man who ever looked at you.” His free hand slid between Noko’s thighs, fingers gliding through slick heat without mercy. “Because you belong to the dragon now. Both of you. And dragons don’t share. They devour.”

  He leaned down, mouth hovering over Relena’s. “Say it.”

  Relena’s voice cracked, raw and reverent. “We belong to you.”

  Noko echoed it, broken. “We belong to you.”

  Drake’s smile was slow. Feral. Beautiful in its cruelty.

  “Then let me remind you what that feels like.”

  His mouth crashed into Relena’s—violent, claiming, tasting of wine and rage and something older than time. Noko arched up, seeking his touch, his teeth, anything. Hands tangled in sheets, in hair, in skin. The room filled with gasps, whimpers, the wet sounds of surrender.

  And in the moonlight, the dragon finally let the darkness pour out—wrapping around their throats, their wrists, their hearts—until there was nothing left but the three of them, burning alive in the memory of what they’d always been meant to become. ?As the sounds of the night filled the apartment, Lazerlot sat outside in an Adirondack chair parked next to the bus. Beside him, a compartment on the vehicle slid open to reveal a fire pit and a cooler packed with ice and silver containers of green liquid.

  ?"Thank you, Bus," he said softly.

  ?He watched the night sky, his mind drifting to memories of adventures with his team. He thought of how they used to do this very same thing—drinking and laughing around a fire. He remembered L.O.K.I. and Brutus debating different ways to ambush enemies, while Bene-Dict and Cassi-US challenged each other to see who could lift more.

  ?But as the nostalgia faded, a pain tightened in his chest. He knew he and the rest of the team should have been watching Nazarene more closely. Only his love, Judas, had been the one not to trust him. Lazerlot leaned back, finished his drink, and drifted off to sleep.

  ?As the sun rose over the horizon, the bus shimmered. A woman walking her dog passed right by them, seeing nothing at all; it was as if Lazerlot and the vehicle had vanished from sight. Meanwhile, inside the apartment, Drake was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He heard the faint stirrings of the two women from the bedroom. When they finally emerged, they moved like ghosts—exhausted, worn out, and barely awake. Both were clad only in oversized shirts, their bare legs moving sluggishly as they reached for mugs and poured their coffee.

  ?They leaned against the counter, mirrored reflections of exhaustion, taking long, desperate sips. Noko was the first to break the silence.

  ?"Okay," she croaked, her voice still rough. "What the hell was that last night, Drake?"

  ?Relena nodded in silent agreement, her eyes fixed on him.

  ?Drake set his cup down slowly. He took a measured breath, his gaze turning distant. "My full name is Dragonis Sanguis Dragool. I am the firstborn male of the Dragool lineage. My family history stretches back one hundred and fifty thousand years. To the world, we are merely tailors and seamstresses—but we are the architects of vanity."

  ?He looked at them, his eyes sharp even in the morning light. "Since the dawn of humanity, every leader—from tribal chieftains to modern billionaires—has shared one common trait: Vanity. To look powerful, they needed the best. The Dragools perfected a science of tailoring that made a man feel like a god and a soldier feel invincible. Because we were 'just the help,' the elite spoke freely in our fitting rooms. We measured the chest of a King while he discussed a secret invasion; we pinned the hem of a CEO’s trousers while he orchestrated a market crash."

  ?He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. "We operate under a single, unbreakable rule: The world is a garment, and we are the ones who hold the needle. We didn't find power in the stars; we found it in the secrets of the men who tried to rule them."

  ?"They call me the Dragon of Memory," he continued. "I was born with a photographic mind and commanded to remember every confession, every lie, and every sin ever whispered in a Dragool fitting room. I was taught how to weaponize those secrets—and how to harness the darkness within the human mind. Last night, you saw that darkness. I let it take control, but I am the one who holds the leash."

  ?Relena cleared her throat, her voice small. "And in the bedroom? Was that the 'Dragon,' or was that you?"

  ?Drake let out a short, low laugh. "That was me. I give so much control of my world to others during the day, but I always take it back in the bedroom."

  ?Noko and Relena stood in silence, the weight of his words settling over them. They understood what he was saying, yet the true depth of the man standing in their kitchen remained a mystery they were only beginning to unravel. The three of them stood in a heavy, contemplative silence until the apartment door slid open. A large Samoan man walked in, looking sharp and unassuming in a well-tailored suit and tie, finished off with a pair of casual flip-flops.

  ?But as the door clicked shut behind him, a sharp electronic hum filled the air. The image of the man rippled like a heat haze and dissolved, the holographic "Uncle" persona folding back beneath the plates of his metallic armor. Within seconds, the suit and skin were gone, and Lazerlot stood before them in his true, cold-metal form.

  ?"Crisis showed up with the list," Lazerlot said, his mechanical voice vibrating in the small kitchen. "He’s finished loading the weapons onto the bus. We’re prepped and ready to move."

  ?He paused, his sensors sweeping over Noko and Relena in their oversized shirts before settling on Drake, who still held his coffee.

  ?"But before we go," Lazerlot continued, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I would like to talk to the three of you. We need to make sure we are all on the same page before we step back into the fire."