Page 23 of Lost in Fire

I settle on the narrow bed, staring at acoustic tiles that probably conceal listening devices. In hours, I’ll face whatever “senior command authority” they’ve designated for my case. Someone with the clearance to decide whether I live or die based on their assessment of my claimed magical manipulation.

For a moment, I question what I’m doing here. Because one small slip could get me executed.

They’re going to kill our daughter.

Every time I question my sanity, I circle back to those words. The words that shattered my carefully constructed reality. That led me into the heart of enemy territory, carrying lies wrapped around desperate hope.

Somewhere in this facility or its allied structures, Vanya might be breathing. Might be watching. Might be preparing for a reunion neither of us expected.

Soon,I tell myself.Soon I’ll know if the message was real. If she’s really alive. If our daughter exists.

I close my eyes and try to find sleep, but my mind won’t settle. Too many variables. Too many ways this could end badly for everyone involved.

Hours pass. Maybe three, maybe four. I drift between restless wakefulness and fragmented dreams that feel more like memories.

Then footsteps echo in the corridor outside. Professional boot heels against polished concrete.

The lock disengages with electronic clicks. Two guards enter, their faces studiously neutral.

“Cole. Get up. It’s time.”

I swing my legs off the bed, instantly alert. “What’s the situation?”

“Senior interrogator is ready to see you.”

“Now?”

One of them snorts. “The Shadowhand keeps their own schedule.”

The Shadowhand.

I have to force myself not to do a double-take. Viktor’s primary intelligence target. The mysterious figure within the Ivory League who advocates for extreme purity measures while potentially protecting mixed bloodlines from behind the scenes. The most dangerous unknown variable in Syndicate leadership.

And apparently my final examiner.

“Any advice for dealing with them?” I ask as they escort me through corridors lined with security cameras.

“Don’t lie,” the first guard says. “The Shadowhand has ways of knowing.”

“And don’t piss them off,” adds the second. “Last person who tried that is still screaming in Sublevel Five.”

Fucking wonderful.

I’m about to face someone with a reputation for both supernatural detection abilities and creative torture techniques.Someone who could expose my mission with a glance or destroy my mind for entertainment.

Someone who might be the key to everything Viktor sent me here to discover.

We descend through multiple security levels, each progressively more restricted. The final level requires biometric authorization from both guards. The air grows colder as we go deeper, carrying traces of magical energy that make my skin crawl.

Finally, we reach a corridor lined with interrogation chambers. Each door bears a number and a status indicator. Most show green—available. One shows red—occupied.

That’s where we stop.

“Chamber Seven,” the first guard announces.

They unlock the door and step aside, making no move to follow me in. Whatever happens next, I face it alone.

“One piece of advice,” the second guard adds as I reach for the handle. “The Shadowhand doesn’t like wasted time. Answer their questions directly. Don’t try to be clever. Take a seat. They’ll be with you shortly.”

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