Page 17 of Lost in Fire

Silence. I can practically hear him weighing the options—the risk of trusting a known traitor against the value of a handler with intimate knowledge of Rossewyn capabilities and Aurora operations.

“You mentioned intelligence,” he says finally.

This is it. The bait Viktor prepared, carefully chosen intelligence that serves the Collective’s purposes while appearing to serve the Syndicate’s.

“Aurora has been organizing younger dragons into coordinated resistance. Viktor Parlance has been building a network of progressive dragons who want integration with human society.” I pause. “They’re planning to make their existence public. Full disclosure. Within the next six months.”

True information. Pre-approved by Viktor. The timeline is accurate, but Aurora wants the Syndicate to know this. Wants them to react predictably, to focus on the wrong threats while the Collective pursues their real objectives.

“How current is this intelligence?”

“Seventy-two hours. I maintained observation protocols even under the witch’s influence—the compulsion couldn’t override decades of training completely.”

“Stand by.”

The line goes quiet, but I can hear muffled conversation in the background. Creed’s running verification, probably cross-referencing with other intelligence sources to see if this information aligns with what they already suspect.

I try not to hold my breath while I wait for a verdict that will determine whether I live to see another sunrise.

“Cole.” Creed’s voice is crisp with decision. “Your intelligence aligns with patterns we’ve been tracking. This public revelation plan explains some recent activity.”

Relief floods through me. That intelligence will lead the Syndicate to focus on preventing Aurora’s public emergence—exactly what Viktor wants them to think is the primary threat.

“What are your orders, sir?”

“You’re coming in. Full debrief. Complete medical and psychological evaluation. If you’re telling the truth, if yourintelligence proves valuable, we’ll discuss reinstatement.” His tone hardens. “But understand this, Cole—you’re walking into a facility full of people who consider you a traitor. Your life expectancy is measured in hours until Command determines your value.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Transport will reach your location in forty minutes. Come alone. Come unarmed. And Cole?” A pause that carries a world of unspoken menace. “If this is some elaborate deception, I’ll personally ensure your death takes days instead of minutes.”

The line goes dead.

I sit in my truck, breath shuddering now that the immediate crisis has passed. In forty minutes, I’ll be back in Syndicate custody. In their hands. Subject to their judgment.

But also closer to finding Vanya. Closer to discovering the truth about her message.

I tap on my screen, type a brief message using the code Viktor taught me:

Package delivered. Invoice approved. Shipment proceeding on schedule.

His reply comes within seconds:

Understood. Safe travels.

The professional courtesy masks what we both know—this might be the last communication we ever share. If my cover fails, if the Syndicate discovers my true loyalties, Aurora will deny all knowledge of my mission. Viktor’s reputation, the Collective’s operations, the fragile alliance we’ve built—none of it can be compromised to save one operative.

Even if that operative is walking into hell to find a woman who might be a ghost.

I pocket the phone and settle back in my seat. Then I wait, watching the horizon for headlights that will carry me back to the life I thought I’d escaped forever.

When they come—two black SUVs moving in convoy—I’m ready. Or as ready as anyone can be for voluntary capture by the organization they’ve betrayed.

The men who step out wear tactical gear and expressions carved from stone. I recognize the posture, the weapons, the barely contained violence. Syndicate enforcement. The best of the worst.

“Hargen Cole?” The team leader’s voice could etch glass.

“That’s me.”

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