Page 60 of Lost in Fire

“Yes?”

“I’m proud to be your daughter.”

The words shatter what’s left of my composure. So much doubt, of wondering if I’ve damaged her with my choices, with the necessity of hiding who we are.

“I’m proud to be your mother,” I choke out the words.

Then she’s gone. Walking down my front path between armed escorts, getting into a vehicle that will take her away from everything she’s ever known.

I watch as the SUVs pull away. Three dark shapes disappearing down the shaded road, carrying my heart with them.

The house settles into silence. I sink onto the couch, finally allowing myself to collapse. The tears come in waves—grief and relief and terror tangled together. I’ve done the right thing. I’ve saved my daughter from the Ivory League’s reach.

But God, it hurts.

I cry until I’m empty, until there’s nothing left but silence. Then I stand, smooth my hair, and walk back to where my car is parked outside. The Shadowhand has work to do.

The world hasn’t stopped just because my heart is breaking.

Chapter 21

Hargen

The silence in the extraction vehicle feels like a weighted blanket.

I study Ember’s profile, watching her stare out the window at the landscape that transforms from woodland to suburban sprawl to wilderness. She hasn’t spoken since we left the house. Since her mother explained why she couldn’t come with us.

The memory of Vanya’s choice burns in my chest. The way she held Ember close, whispering promises she might not live to keep. The careful mask of composure that didn’t quite hide the terror in her eyes.

I can’t leave. The network depends on the Shadowhand’s continued presence.

I hate that she made the decision without consulting me, but I can’t deny the logic. If she disappeared now, it would be clear she was a traitor, and they’d investigate everything she’d been involved in. But God, I wish it hadn’t had to be that way.

Stubborn goddamn woman.

The vehicle climbs steadily into mountain territory, each mile carrying us further from the woman I’ve lost twice now. Beside me, Ember’s breathing has the careful rhythm of someone fighting tears.

“She’ll be okay,” I say quietly, though the words don’t ring true.

Ember’s laugh is bitter, too old for her years. “Will she? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like my mother just chose her job over her daughter.”

“She chose protecting dozens of other families over saving herself.” The defense comes automatically, though it doesn’t ease the fury burning in my gut. “Your mother has been safeguarding these people for years. If she disappears—”

“They die. I know.” Ember’s voice cracks. “She explained the math. The greater good. The needs of the many.”

She finally turns to look at me, and the pain in her eyes makes my chest tighten.

“But she’s my mom,” she whispers. “And I might never see her again.”

The simple truth of it breaks something inside me. So young, and she’s already learned that love isn’t enough to keep people safe. That sometimes the right choice is also the cruelest one.

Fuck this world and its impossible choices.

I reach for her hand, surprised when she doesn’t pull away. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly.

“We’ll find a way back to her,” I promise, meaning it. “Once you’re safe, once the Aurora Collective establishes secure communication—”

“You can’t promise that.” Her grip tightens. “The Syndicate doesn’t forgive. If they discover what she’s been doing…”

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