Page 83 of Pyre

He hesitated.

“But mostly—”

Lucas assessed her reaction. “Because if no one knows there’s a cure, they can use the infected however they see fit. The ones who don’t lose it, like you, need a purpose—a reason to live through their damned eternity. They recruit kids, the ones who aren’t even thermophiles, straight out of high school to fighttheir wars. You’re stronger, faster, practically invincible. Why wouldn’t they use you?”

The words landed like a blow. The room shrank around her, the artificial glow of the desk lamp casting long, accusing shadows. The air thickened, pressing against her ribs. She gripped the edge of the chair, nails biting into the worn leather, grounding herself against the tide of horror swelling inside her.

Then came the guilt. It hit first, sharp as a scalpel, slicing through her defenses. The faces came next, unbidden—every person she’d hurt, every life she’d destroyed for the cause. Some blurred together, others stood out in stark clarity. A mother clutching her child. A man too slow to run. The way their screams silenced.

She shoved them back, locking them away. Later. She’d deal with them later.

Now, she needed the anger.

“Where do you and Edward come into this?”

Lucas exhaled, slow and measured. “You know the basics about Edward.” He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. “Accidentally became a thermophile. Worked as a scientist. Watched his daughter grow older than him while he stayed frozen. His wife died. He hated his immortality and threw himself into searching for a cure. It took him nearly thirty years—he didn’t sleep, didn’t do anything but work. And eventually, he found it.”

His fingers tapped against the desk, a nervous rhythm. “He offered it to the government, hoping to help others like him. They took his notes.” A pause, then, quieter, “Then they burned his lab.”

Something flickered in Lucas’s expression, a heaviness that settled into the space between them.

Ruby forced her voice to stay steady. “And?”

His face hardened. “His daughter and granddaughter had gone to visit him that day. They brought him dinner. They didn’t know he didn’t need to eat. The TCA locked them inside the lab and let them burn along with it. Edward got home just in time to breathe in their phlogiston without realizing what he’d done.”

A slow, sickening crawl of nausea twisted through her gut. The crackle of fire, the acrid stench of burning flesh—she could hear it, smell it. The image clawed at her mind, too close, too familiar.

If he had felt the agony of losing a daughter, how could he inflict it on her?

Lucas must have seen the question forming in her eyes. “Because he needed to build his cause. For decades, he experimented on regular people, hoping to create someone strong enough to expose the infection—someone who could defy the TCA. That’s where I came in. I was already working for the TCA when my partner became infected. They blamed Edward. I don’t know how, but he found me a few weeks later. Told me the truth. We’ve been working together ever since.”

The floor tilted beneath her.

Ruby narrowed her eyes. “How do I factor into this?”

Lucas hesitated. His hands curled into fists against his thighs. “You were his greatest success. The strongest. The angriest. I just had to push that.” He swallowed hard, then met her eyes, something raw and unspoken flickering behind his own. “I—I told Edward about Jonah, back when you two were getting close as recruits. I chose his sister. I sent you on the first assignment. And every other assignment.”

A slow, creeping cold spread through her limbs.

The chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her breath steady, measured. A thin crack splintered across the cheap laminate desk where her hand rested, pressure building beneath her fingers.

The child, her cries silenced by the roaring flames. The old man who hadn’t even realized his wife died. His screams, sharp and raw. The failed farmer and his lover, holding hands as they burned.

Her stomach churned, guilt twisting into something sharper, something with teeth.

“How much does Jonah know?”

Lucas hesitated. “Just that there’s a cure.” He rubbed his jaw. “I can fill him in on the rest—if you think he wouldn’t try to stop me.”

“From what?”

“Exposing it. All of it. Thermophiles. The cure. Everything.” Lucas leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. “I’ve been gathering evidence for the last five years. I have enough to publish, but I need something big, something dramatic, to make people listen.”

He paused, watching her reaction.

“Edward did terrible things in the name of vengeance. And I helped him in the name of exposing the truth. I’m sorry for what he did to you, and how I contributed, but we need you.”

The words settled between them, heavy as a death sentence.

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