The Dragon's Claim

Chapter 3

Dorgan

Kuma snorts at Myan's quick exit, shaking his head, but the wide grin says it all. Family. Whether we bled into it or found it later.

I sit up straight at my desk, roll my shoulders back, and feel the buzz of upcoming business.

The easy part's over. The real work's about to start.

Just waiting on Bells now. If I'm lucky, he'll be late. That way, I can think of a clever way to avoid the Buba fallout I know is coming. There's no chance Kuma will stay quiet.

Minutes later, Bellamy strolls into my office, his eyes glued to the old tablet in his hands. I c**k my head to smile at him. The muscle in his jaw twitches, and I realize I must have interrupted his work in some way to irritate him this much. I suppress a laugh and straighten my face to address him. My little brother sure amuses me—the way he zones in on his work and then gets snarky if interrupted. Sometimes, it grates on my nerves, but more often than not, it amuses me. I know all his moods and his body language as plain as day.

We are very close, bonded over years of only having each other to rely on. Running from the army for years made me the overprotective brother. Meanwhile, Bells has turned into the snarky, cheeky little sibling. Not that he's little at all. Being a dragon shifter like me, he stands six feet eight tall—about an inch shorter than me—and all lean muscle.

"What've you got, Buba?" Kuma's words seem to have startled him, and I can't help the chuckle that escapes me. He'd zoned out again. Now, his irritation is no longer aimed at me. Instead, he fixes his ruby lizard eyes on Kuma. He’s ready to rant when Kuma suddenly shoves one of the radios from the desk in his face. "Got you a lil something, mano." He says playfully, a sneaky glint in his eyes. His look tells me he knows he's teasing a dragon shifter. Literally. Bellamy, lost in his new stash, scans the device. He glances at the tech goods retrieved. He’s about to check them out. I know I must step in fast if I want to get information from him before he zones out again.

"Bells, you said you found something?" I state more than ask; we needed to get rolling on this meeting, there were like a million other things to do. Did I mention the life of a leader is all glamour and no work? Right.

"Oh yeah, I’ve hacked into the army’s main server. This is no small feat, especially with the old software I’m using," he begins. I can see his irritation shift to excitement. He must have found something good. "The comms in the Camp Zero base went crazy early this morning. Someone or something important was taken from the camp. All soldiers were ordered to patrol and search. They even recalled soldiers from nearby camps and missions."

Bells steps forward, showing me the script of the comms on his tablet. I check the content and then pass the tablet to Dael. Kuma looks over his shoulder. Dael frowns, his eyebrows forming a "V," and then he looks up at me.

"This must be really important for this reaction," he says, his golden eyes focused as he thinks. I give him a minute; I have learned that it is usually worth it. He is the brains of our operation. He has a sharp strategic mind and great foresight. This may come from his eagle-shifter genes and more. After the years he has spent at my side, I normally heed his advice and trust his instincts. They have rarely ever led us astray. He sighs after a moment and says,

"We should lock down the base, boost security, and gather any info we can about this person or thing. "If they're this eager to reclaim it, it might be useful for us and our cause." I nod, having come up with a similar plan of action.

"Good job, little genius," Kuma rumbles, ruffling Bellamy's hair like he's still ten years old.

Then he claps him on the shoulder—hard enough to make Bells stumble forward a full step.

Seriously?

I bite my cheek to hold back a laugh. My brother grumbles as he tries to fix the bird's nest Kuma made in his hair. I'm pretty sure I catch the words "stupid giant bear" slipping out.

Kuma offers a charming, apologetic grin, one that could even calm an angry badger. Sure enough, Bells warms up in an instant. His glare melts into a real, genuine smile.

Nobody stays mad at Kuma for long. Bear magic.

"I'll go find Myan, update him on the changes, then hunt down Pan to boost security," Kuma says, tossing a lazy salute.

He throws a massive arm over Dael's shoulders and pulls him out of the office. The floor groans under his weight.

Seriously. Dude needs a warning label.

The room grows quieter. I can feel my brother watching me as I look back at the intercepted messages on the tablet. I chew absently on my bottom lip, trying to drown out the complicated mess of emotions curling in my chest.

I'm proud of him. Proud in a way that hits sharp and deep.

And underneath that pride, a bittersweet ache blooms.

Mama. Papa.

They'd never get to see what an incredible man he has become.

We couldn't have been more different growing up.

Me? Born to lead. Sharpened by discipline. Ruthless when I have to be, but always aiming for fairness.

Bellamy? Nerdy, awkward in crowds, brilliant with tech. He can fight if necessary. He could beat many shifters on base if he wanted to, but he'd rather use a keyboard and soldering iron than a blade.

Physically, we're cut from the same cloth. We are tall, lean, and toned. Our Asian heritage shows in our straight black hair and sharp dark eyes. That was before our first transformation.

Now?

My hair's streaked with silver; his glints with scarlet.

Our eyes shifted too, dark almond shapes now a touch reptilian, pupils slightly oval. Mine shine silver. His burn red.

And the tattoos—the mark of what we are now.

Dragon scales on our left hands, curling around the thumb joint. Great dragon wings cover our skin from the left pec, over the shoulder, to the shoulder blade and up the neck. They gleam faintly in the right light. His in blood red. Mine in silver.

Different colors. Different souls. But still—brothers. Unmistakably.

I glance up at him, standing there awkwardly, pretending to be busy but waiting for... something.

"Real good work, Buba," I risk, letting the old nickname roll off my tongue with a grin.

He shoots me a glare sharp enough to peel paint off the walls.

Quick, I follow it up with the truth.

"You're so freaking talented. Mother and Father would have been so proud."

I stand, leaning forward on my desk, my voice softening. "I'm proud of you."

For half a second, I catch it—him blinking fast, fighting the sting in his eyes.

But Bellamy's a master of the cover-up. He slaps on his best macho face, tossing his head like it's no big deal.

Still, the smile he flashes me—pure and beautiful and so damn him—says it all.

He turns away, heading to the table with the gear, but the air hums differently now.

Warmer.

And I let myself feel it for a moment before pulling the leader's mask back on.

Family. It's messy. But it's everything.

Sasha

I sit on the bench on the inside of the gates of the reserve; they have a proper security set up here. Which is essential with the plans the General has in mind. My thoughts are all over the place. The cool air brushes my skin, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. Pan sits next to me, his presence steady and grounded. He's always been like that—strong, protective, and fiercely loyal. But even now, as we share this rare moment of silence, I can feel the tension in him, too. He's waiting, watching, always on guard.

I look around and see the shadows moving. Shifters are watching from afar, keeping a close eye on us. Their movements are smooth and deliberate. They think they're being inconspicuous, but I was raised a warrior. I've always been aware of my surroundings, always alert. Father would have my head if I didn't notice.

The thought of him pierces my heart, sharp and cold.

Father...

The word echoes in my mind, filling me with a wave of grief I can't quite shake. The father I thought I had is gone. Taken from me in the blink of an eye, all that's left is the General. The one chasing me, the one after my blood. There's so much I don't know, so much that still lingers in the dark corners of my heart. But I can't dwell on that now.

Not with everything happening around me. Not when I have so much more to fight for.

"Tiny?" Pan's voice cuts through the silence, his tone soft but laced with concern. The name touches me deeply, the nickname that only he ever used. My only companion, the only friend and family I ever had. He sits a little closer, his eyes scanning me as if trying to figure out what's brewing beneath the surface.

"You okay?" he asks, his gaze steady but with the same protective edge he's always had.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I've always had to be strong. But in moments like this, the weight of everything feels almost too much to bear.

"Yes," I finally answer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry... it's all a bit much, you know? Everything—my reality was ripped away from me, I have more questions than answers... and the betrayal… by fath… I mean the General." I can't even get the word past my lips.

I see Pan's shoulders relax slightly, though I know he's still on edge. He doesn't need to ask more. He knows. We both do. And for now, that's enough. We don't need to say everything to understand each other.

"What happened?" he asks softly after we sat in silence for a while, his voice careful, as though he is afraid of what I might say.

I turn to face him fully, my hands trembling in my lap. It's like a dam breaking, everything I've been holding in spilling out in a rush. The words spill out before I can hold them back. My chest tightens as the truth I've hidden rises to the surface. Pan's eyes are filled with concern, but there's something more in his gaze—regret, maybe, or guilt. It cuts through me like a blade.

"Pan," I start, my voice shaky, "I was so blind, so stupid. I—I believed his lies. I thought... I thought he was different, that he cared. I thought I was confused. But no, I was wrong. So wrong."

I pause, my breath catching in my throat. "He doesn't love me, Pan. He's planning on using me—some kind of experiment. I can't... I can't even think about it without feeling sick."

I swallow hard, memory making my stomach churn. "And then I saw the shifters in the cages. They were screaming, Pan. They were begging for help. They didn't even have a choice. And I—I was part of it. I was going to be part of that."

My voice cracks, tears threatening to spill. I blink them back furiously, angry at myself for feeling so weak.

"Pan, why didn't you tell me?" The question bursts out of me, raw and desperate. "You knew. You knew all along, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me about all this? Why didn't you stop me from trusting him?"

I can feel the heat of the accusation in my words, the sting of betrayal biting at the edges of my mind. I want to be angry, but it's more than that. I want answers. I need them.

Pan stares at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his gaze softens, and he looks down at his hands, taking a deep breath. When he speaks, it's low, like he's not sure how to say the words.

"I thought if you found out you would do something stupid and get yourself killed. I know you, Tiny; you wouldn't have kept quiet. He's dangerous, Tiny," he admits. "Also, I didn't want to hurt you; I thought it might break you to know who and what he is." He looks up at me, his eyes filled with regret. "But I should have told you. I should have. I wanted to protect you, Sasha. I thought at least you would be safe with him; I didn't know what he planned, stars if I knew… that bastard." He spits out the last part, clenching his teeth.

I can see the pain in his eyes, the burden of his guilt. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel betrayed. Not only by him but by the whole situation, the world I've been thrown into without a choice.

"I should have told you," he repeats softly, almost like he's saying it to himself. "I'm sorry, Sasha. You deserve the truth. You always have. I never wanted to hurt you."

I don't know how to respond to that. The anger in me simmers, but there's no release. Instead, it twists into something else, something more difficult to deal with—grief. For all that we have lost. For all that I can never get back. And heavens, I cannot lose Pan again; I will not survive.

"We're in this together now, Pan," I say quietly, the truth of it settling into my chest. "No more secrets. I can't go through this without you."

He nods a silent promise in his eyes. We both know there's no going back now. Not from this war. Not from the things we've seen. The road ahead is unclear, but I can't afford to doubt him anymore. Not now. Not when we're this far in.

And so, with a heavy heart, we move forward. Together.