Kaelridge, 7:04 a.m.
The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft sizzle of blueberry pancakes on the griddle. Morning light spilled through the windows, catching on Lora Vega's hair as she hummed a low, distracted tune. She moved with the rhythm of familiarity, flipping golden batter with practiced ease, but her eyes kept drifting toward the stairs.
Jonathan was still upstairs—resting, recovering, or doing a damn good job pretending to. Ethan hadn't come down either. The air in the house felt heavier since last night. Not with smoke or fear, but with something older. Like something sacred and dangerous had passed through and left fingerprints in its wake.
Lora was flipping the second batch when her phone buzzed against the counter.
Maureen.
She answered in the second ring.
"Hey, Maureen."
"Is Ethan with you?" The voice on the other end was smooth—too smooth. Each word came like polished steel wrapped in velvet. Calm, composed, but Lora heard the subtle shift. She'd known Maureen long enough to recognize the tone: disappointed mother, lightly dusted with worry.
Lora straightened without realizing it. "Yes, he is. He came back with Jonathan last night. Your boy got my Jonny out of quite the situation. Did he tell you he was staying over?"
At the other end, Maureen stood in her own kitchen, sunlight gleaming across the marble countertops, worry etched into her perfect features.
"No," she said quietly. He didn't. I was… concerned. But I had a feeling he might be at your place. I'm sorry if he was any trouble."
Lora chuckled. "Maureen, come on. I love when Ethan visits. He's a joy. Always respectful, always helpful. He even offered to do dishes last time he was here."
There was a pause.
"Why don't you come over?" Lora added, already moving to prepare more batter. Bring Elijah too. "I'm making enough pancakes to feed a small army, and you and I could use a smoothie and some adult conversation."
A soft chuckle hummed through the phone. "That does sound good. We'll be there shortly."
Then Maureen's voice dipped, almost conspiratorial. "Do me a favor, though. Don't tell Ethan I'm coming. He knows he should've called me. Mama's going to chew him out a bit."
Lora laughed, flipping a pancake with flair. "Consider it done. He's a good kid—but yeah, he should've told you. "A little fire from Mom is well-earned."
"Us mothers have to stick together."
"Always."
Meanwhile, in Maureen's driveway, Elijah sat in the passenger seat of the sleek black SUV, arms folded across his chest like a barricade. He glared out the windshield, one leg bouncing, fingers tapping a sharp rhythm against the armrest.
"He didn't even invite me," he muttered under his breath. And he stood me up. We were supposed to go flying last night."
Maureen didn't reply right away. She closed the front door behind her, sliding into the driver's seat with royal grace and starting the engine.
"There was an incident," she said evenly. "He made a choice."
Elijah scoffed. "Without me."
"You're angry."
"I'm furious."
She didn't argue. She didn't need to. Elijah wasn't just angry—he was hurt. Not that he'd admit it. His pride wouldn't allow it, but Maureen knew her son's storm ran deeper than thunder and lightning.
Still, the promise of Lora's pancakes did ease the tension a little. Not that he'd say so out loud. Not even under threat of death.
He liked Lora. He respected Jonathan—even if the mortal was more fragile than he cared for. But he was loyal, brave, and honest. Elijah could respect that.
And if those thugs had done any worse to him…
Elijah's jaw flexed. His fingers twitched.
He would've taught them a different kind of pain. Elijah's dark face lightened as Maureen pulled into the driveway. Elijah couldn't wait for pancakes, and to give Ethan a taste of his silent wrath.
The kitchen smelled of blueberries, cinnamon, and quiet judgment.
Ethan came down the stairs last, shoulders relaxed—but only on the surface. He smelled Maureen's perfume before he saw her. That faint spice-and-rose scent always came before something intense. He rounded the corner to find her already at the table, calm and poised like a queen holding court.
Elijah sat beside her, arms folded. Not a glance. Not a grunt of acknowledgment.
Jonathan looked unsure of where to put his eyes. Lora just smiled and offered Ethan a plate.
"Morning," Ethan said, scratching the back of his neck.
Maureen didn't respond. Neither did Elijah.
Jonathan cleared his throat. "You, uh… sleep okay?"
"Yeah," Ethan muttered, sliding into his seat across from his brother.
"Good," Elijah said, his voice cool but polite. He turned, smiling at Jonathan. "Hey, want to hang out later? Maybe spar? Or hit the cliffs?"
Ethan's eyes twitched.
Jonathan blinked. "Uh… yeah. Sure."
Elijah nodded, then turned to Lora. "Miss Vega, these pancakes are amazing. Seriously. And this smoothie? Perfect ratio. You ever thought about opening a café?"
Lora beamed. "Aren't you just full of charm this morning."
"I try."
Ethan chewed a piece of pancake like it had insulted him.
And still—Elijah didn't look at him.
After a few more bites and tension thick enough to choke on, Maureen set her fork down, wiping her mouth with a napkin as if preparing for ritual execution.
"Ethan."
He stopped chewing mid-bite.
"I would like you to explain why I had to call Lora this morning to find out where my son was."
Ethan swallowed hard. "I… I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to? "That's your answer?" Her tone never rose. Not once. But the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "You disappeared. No message. No call. You made me worry."
Ethan looked down. "I just… I reacted. Jonathan was in danger. I couldn't risk—"
"I understand that," she interrupted gently. "I'm proud of your heart." But I'm disappointed in your judgment."
Then Lora spoke—soft, but firm. "You scared your mother, Ethan. I know your heart is in the right place. But no matter how old or strong you are, you don't get to stop being her son."
Ethan's mouth opened, then shut again.
Maureen's voice softened. "Imagine if something had happened to you, and I never got the chance to say goodbye. That's what you risked. Not just your secret. My heart."
Ethan stared at his plate.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "To both of you."
Maureen gave a quiet nod. Elijah still didn't look at him.
Jonathan, meanwhile, had gone completely still.
He watched them—the royal bloodline of fire and fury—seated around a mortal table with mismatched chairs and a chipped syrup bottle. These weren't just friends. They were dragons. Ethan, who melted four men in a heartbeat. Elijah, silent and glacial. Maureen, whose presence felt like divine judgment.
And he was just… Jonathan.
A mortal.
And yet—they all cared. They were flawed. Petty. Loving. Dangerous.
And he was the only human alive who knew.
And maybe… he liked that.
Later, in the quiet of the Vega backyard, Elijah leaned against the fence, arms crossed. Jonathan stood nearby, trying not to look nervous.
"You're a good liar," Elijah said casually.
Jonathan blinked. "Huh?"
"For staying calm. For not screaming. "For not telling the world what you saw." He turned, and this time his eyes were serious. Cold as a winter ocean. "If you ever speak a word of what Ethan is to anyone… I'll break every bone in your body before you finish the sentence."
Jonathan didn't blink.
"I won't."
Elijah tilted his head.
"I'd die before I betrayed him," Jonathan said, voice steady. "And I don't say that lightly."
A long silence passed between them.
Then Elijah's stance relaxed. Just a fraction.
"Good," he said. "Because if you are ever in danger… I'll come for you."
Jonathan smiled faintly. "Like a storm?"
Elijah smirked. "Like the end of the world."