The street fell into silence as Owen's juvenile dragon form dominated the space—twenty feet of black scales and golden accents, wings spread wide enough to cast shadows across the entire intersection. His presence alone created pressure in the air, a weight that made breathing difficult for anyone without hunter-enhanced physiology.
Vonn's sword, which had been raised triumphantly moments before, now trembled in his grip.
"That's... that's impossible," he breathed, his face drained of its color. "It was just a hatchling. A baby. just a month ago—"
He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over broken pavement, his bravado evaporating like mist. His retreat didn't stop until he had put Rogers between himself and the dragon, using his partner as an involuntary shield.
