Page 6 of Lost in Fire

“Then we fight.”

“With what army?” Her laugh was bitter. “Against my own bloodline? Against the Syndicate that owns you, body and soul?”

But I’d kept arguing, kept insisting there had to be another way. Right up until she kissed me goodbye and whispered that she loved me enough to let me go.

I’d thought that was the cruelest thing she could do to me.

I was wrong.

The last memory is the one that’s haunted me. Her execution, broadcast to all Syndicate personnel as a reminder of what happened to those who betrayed clan purity. I watched from my assigned station, mandatory attendance.

They chained her to a stake in the center of the ceremonial chamber. Her pale hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore the simple white shift required for ritual purification. She didn’t struggle. Didn’t plead. When the flames rose around her, she looked directly into the camera.

Then the fire consumed her.

Or so I thought.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stop the images. But they won’t be banished now. Not when I know they were all lies. Carefully orchestrated theater designed to… what? Protect her? Protect me?

Protect our daughter.

The possibility hits with crystal clarity. If Vanya faked her death, if she’s been alive all these years, then everything makes sense. The timing. The elaborate nature of her execution.Someone helped her disappear. Someone with access and influence, and the ability to orchestrate a deception that fooled the entire Syndicate hierarchy.

But why contact me now? After all these years of silence, why reveal herself unless the threat is immediate and desperate?

They’re going to kill our daughter.

The message pulses with urgency. Someone is hunting a young woman I never knew existed. My daughter.

Mydaughter.

The rage hits without warning, white-hot and consuming. For so long, I’ve believed that I’d killed the woman I adored through the simple act of loving her. Protected myself with a wall of careful emotional numbness, of turning myself into the perfect tool because I had nothing left worth protecting.

When all along, I was being played.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Some elaborate long-term strategy that required my complete ignorance to function. My grief, my guilt, my carefully constructed emotional distance—all of it serving some purpose I was never allowed to understand.

The silver ring feels suddenly heavy on my finger. A symbol of love, or the most sophisticated manipulation in Syndicate history?

Why now?

The answer comes with cold certainty. Because she needs my help. Because after all these years of playing whatever game has kept her alive, she’s finally run out of moves. Because the woman who let me believe she was dead is finally ready to trust me with the truth.

I stand, decision crystallizing with each breath. The betrayal burns, but beneath it lies something stronger. Somewhere out there is a young woman who shares my blood, who’s in danger, who needs protection.

My daughter.

I may not understand Vanya’s choices. May never forgive them. But I’ll be damned if I let our child pay the price for them.

I rub my eyes as I consider what this means.

I can’t do it alone. I’m one man against an organization that spans continents. One burned-out handler against whatever forces are threatening our daughter.

My mind runs through options, playing out scenarios that all lead to one solution.

I know who to contact. I just pray they’ll be willing to help after all that’s happened.

The autumn wind picks up as I leave the park, carrying the scent of dying leaves and the promise of winter. I pull my coat tighter and disappear into the crowd, just another anonymous figure on a busy street.

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