Page 39 of Lost in Fire

“Vanya.” He stops me with a hand on my arm, his touch burning through the fabric of my jacket. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Everything. The enhanced protocols that will expose Ember within days. The network of families whose lives depend on decisions I make in the next few hours. The choice betweensaving my daughter and protecting everyone else I’ve sworn to defend.

“That we’re running out of time,” I say instead.

It’s true enough. All of it—the investigation, the protocols, the careful balance that’s kept us safe for fifteen years—everything is accelerating toward a point where choices will be made for us if we don’t act first.

He studies my face for a long moment, reading the urgency I’m trying to project without revealing the full scope of what we’re facing.

“Alright,” he says finally. “Take me to her.”

I nod, though I’m fighting down fear. In a few hours, the most carefully guarded secret of my life will be exposed. The daughter I’ve protected through years of deception will finally meet the father who only just learned she existed.

And everything we’ve built—all of it—will change forever.

Chapter 15

Hargen

The corridors blur past in fragments of fluorescent light and concrete. Each step carries me further from the interrogation chamber where my world shattered and reformed, where grief collapsed into the miracle of Vanya’s face without that damned silver mask.

She walks beside me, spine straight, moving with the same grace that made me fall in love with her. But there’s something different now. A hardness in her shoulders. A calculation in the way she scans each junction, each security camera, each potential threat.

The Shadowhand walks through the Syndicate facility like she owns it.

Because she does.

My hands clench and unclench at my sides as we pass checkpoints where guards snap to attention at the sight of her. A woman I barely recognize anymore.

“Perimeter checkpoint ahead,” she murmurs, not looking at me. “Let me handle this.”

I nod because what else can I do? I’m a ghost walking through enemy territory, dependent on the woman who let me mourn her for nothing.

The security station comes into view—two guards, multiple screens, weapons that could turn me to ash in seconds. One of them looks up as we approach, then starts to rise.

“Shadowhand.” His voice carries respect and fear in equal measure. “We weren’t expecting—”

“Special protocols,” Vanya cuts him off, her voice carrying the arctic authority I heard in the interrogation chamber. “This asset requires immediate transfer to my private facility.”

She produces credentials from her jacket, sliding them across the desk with movements that speak of absolute confidence. I catch a glimpse of my own face on the documentation, labeled as ‘Security Asset K-7’ with clearance authorization under “Shadowhand Authority.”

The guard’s eyes widen as he scans the papers. “Elder, I’ll need to verify this through—”

“You’ll need to expedite this transfer.” Vanya’s voice drops to that dangerous softness I remember from our most intimate moments, now weaponized into something that makes the guard’s face go pale. “Unless you’d prefer to explain to Elder Vex why his priority intelligence operation was delayed by bureaucratic inefficiency?”

The threat hangs in the air. The guard’s hand hovers over his communication device for a heartbeat before he thinks better of it.

“Of course, Shadowhand. No delay necessary.” He hands back the credentials with shaking fingers. “Sublevel garage access is cleared. Will you require an escort?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He practically melts with relief as we move past his station. I catch his partner staring at me with undisguised curiosity—probably wondering what kind of prisoner warrants personal attention from the Ivory League’s most feared member.

If only he knew.

The elevator descends through layers of concrete and steel, each level taking us deeper into the facility’s heart. Vanya stands perfectly still beside me, but I can feel the tension radiating from her. She spoke of a bond, and I recognize it now. An invisible thread connecting us across years of separation.

“How long?” I ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

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