The Fox And The Last Dragon

Kane stepped through the debris, careful to not disturb the scene.

He crouched beside his overturned coffee table, running a finger along deep claw marks gouged into the wood.

"This wasn't just a message." Kane's voice hardened as he surveyed his home.

His television remained untouched on the wall.

The vintage record player his mother had given him—one of the few items of actual value he owned—sat dusty but unharmed in the corner.

Even his gaming console had been tossed aside rather than stolen.

Kane studied the claw pattern with narrowed eyes.

"Three distinct talons, curved inward." He traced the air above the marks.

"Too large for a lesser feline spirit."

He shifted to the bookshelf, where dust had settled unevenly across the surface.

"See how the dust pattern breaks here?" Kane pointed to an almost invisible disruption.

"Something moved through the air."

He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

"Sulfur undertones beneath... jasmine?" His eyes snapped open.

"We've got a partnership. Air spirit working with something reptilian, possibly a salamander variant."

Kane moved to the window, examining the sill where a faint purple residue glimmered.

"The air spirit masked their companion's magical signature."

"Clever. They knew I'd pick up on a reptilian's scent immediately, so they used wind manipulation to scatter it." He frowned.

"But they didn't account for the residual harmonics their dampening spell would leave behind."

Kane moved to his bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot rather than his hand.

The scene was equally devastating.

All his drawers were pulled out, clothes strewn across the floor like abandoned flags.

Cupboard doors hung open, their contents scattered.

He crouched beside his bed, where the mattress had been slashed open, stuffing spilling out like entrails.

The claw marks on the walls confirmed his suspicion—three distinct gouges carved deep into the plaster, matching those in the living room.

"They were looking for something." Kane ran his fingers along the wall, careful not to touch the marks directly. "Thorough bastards."

He glanced toward his nightstand.

The false bottom in the drawer remained intact, suggesting whoever did this didn't know about his hiding spots.

The closet door hung askew on broken hinges. Inside, his suits and jackets lay in heaps, each pocket turned inside out.

His gaze traveled upward to where a small air vent cover had been removed and discarded.

"Air spirit definitely went exploring." Kane's ears twitched backward.

Kane knelt beside his desk, fingers hovering over scattered papers.

Case files, informant lists, and field notes carpeted the floor like fallen leaves.

His eyes narrowed as he assessed the chaos.

"They didn't take any of this." He shuffled through the papers, finding his most sensitive documents left behind.

"Which means they weren't after Bureau intel."

He sat back on his heels, ears twitching in contemplation. If not his case files or informant network, what were they searching for?

His mind raced through possibilities. What did he possess that would warrant such a targeted invasion?

Kane froze mid-motion, a memory surfacing from the churning sea of his thoughts.

The Whispering Shard.

That raid on the black market den three months ago had yielded a peculiar artifact—a jagged crystal that hummed with an unsettling frequency only spirits could hear.

The reports claimed it could bend a spirit's will, twist their thoughts until they became puppets to whoever wielded it.

He'd personally delivered it to Evidence Lockup B-7, watched as Rina logged it into the system, and sealed it behind three layers of containment wards.

But someone clearly thought Kane had kept it. Or had information about it.

His gaze drifted to the shattered remains of his bathroom mirror, the glass crushed underfoot with particular violence.

The hiding spot behind it was empty—once his favorite place for sensitive items.

The patterns began to solidify in Kane's mind.

The trafficking ring he'd been investigating—the one operating out of that warehouse where Cyrus had saved him—would find the Whispering Shard invaluable.

With it, they could control dozens of spirits without the costly magical suppression tech they currently employed.

His tail bristled as the pieces aligned.

Behind him, something clattered to the floor.

Cyrus stood in the doorway, his foot having disturbed a fallen picture frame.

The dragon's face remained impassive, but his eyes glowed faintly in the dim light of the apartment.

"You're still here," Kane blurted, his ears flattening slightly in embarrassment.

He'd been so absorbed in his analysis he'd completely forgotten about his reluctant bond-mate.

"Evidently," Cyrus replied dryly, surveying the destruction with detachment.

Kane froze mid-thought, his tail stiffening as a connection sparked in his mind.

Why had Cyrus been at that warehouse? The timing was too perfect—the CEO of Veyr Corp appearing just as Kane was about to be killed.

And now his apartment was ransacked while he'd been away with Cyrus. Either they were watching him… or someone tipped them off.

He glanced at the dragon standing in his doorway, studying that impassive face for any hint of deception.

Those red eyes revealed nothing.

Had Cyrus orchestrated this? Was this break-in connected to Veyr Corp?

The trafficking operation had been massive, requiring significant resources and connections.

The kind of resources only a powerful corporation could provide.

Kane's fingers curled into a fist at his side.

Trust had never come easily to him, and now he found himself literally bound to the person he'd been investigating. Someone who might be behind everything.

Yet Cyrus had saved his life. The karmic seal wouldn't have formed otherwise.

Kane turned away, pretending to examine more damage.

Better to keep these suspicions to himself for now. Play the eager assistant, the grateful life-debt bearer, while quietly digging deeper.

Kane straightened, brushing debris from his hands.

"I'll just grab what's salvageable and file a report with the BSA. No sense in both of us wasting time here." He kicked aside the shattered picture frame.

"You've got that meeting later, right? Wouldn't want the great Cyrus to keep them waiting."

Kane's gaze swept across his ruined apartment, a bitter smile forming.

"Guess I'm lucky I've got somewhere else to stay." He glanced at Cyrus.