Page 81 of Lost in Fire

The equipment beeps, signaling the end of our stolen moment. Cassia stands, her expression shuttering as she adjusts settings and records false data.

“The verification is complete,” she announces loudly for the benefit of anyone listening. “Results will be submitted to Elder Vex directly.”

As she gathers her equipment, she pauses beside me one last time. “I’ll come again tomorrow if I can.”

Then she’s gone, and I’m alone with the chains and the runes and the knowledge that I have three days left to live.

I lean back against the cold wall, exhaustion claiming every muscle. In the darkness, I imagine I can still feel them—Hargen’s steady presence, Ember’s bright energy—even through the binding chains’ suppression.

It’s an illusion, of course. A memory of connection rather than connection itself.

But sometimes, memories are all we have left.

Chapter 27

Hargen

The helicopter blades cut through the dawn sky, their rhythm matching the urgency of my thundering heart. Viktor stands beside me on the Aurora Collective’s helipad, his weathered face grim in the pale light.

“I can’t officially sanction this,” he says, voice muffled by the rotors. “But I won’t stop you, either.”

I adjust the tactical vest they’ve provided, checking the weapons secured at my waist.

“You’ve done what you can,” I respond tersely, then glance sideways as another figure emerges from the shadows.

“I figured you could use some help.” Viktor puts a hand on my shoulder. “She volunteered.”

Nadia Frost approaches, her tall, lean form clad in dark fatigues, black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail.

“Her tracking abilities might prove useful,” Viktor continues. “I would do more if I could. The Collective protects its own.”

Nadia reaches us, shouldering a lightweight pack. “I know what it’s like to lose family to those bastards.” Her voice carries an edge of personal pain. “Besides, someone needs to keep you from getting yourself killed before you find her.”

Movement catches my eye. Across the rooftop, Ember stands in the shadow of the building, arms crossed, watching our preparations. Her fair hair whips in the helicopter’s downdraft, and even from this distance, I can see the anger radiating from her posture. But she doesn’t interfere.

“Time to go,” the pilot calls out.

Viktor clasps my shoulder. “Bring her home, Hargen.”

The flight to Seattle passes in tense silence. Nadia stares out the window, occasionally consulting what looks like an ancient compass that spins without regard for magnetic north. I check and recheck my equipment, running through scenarios in my mind. Each one ends with either Vanya dead or me failing to reach her in time.

Stop thinking that way. You’ll get there.

The helicopter sets down on Craven Towers’ rooftop landing pad with a bump. As the rotors wind down, I see the welcoming committee waiting: Lila, her silver-streaked dark hair catching the sunlight, flanked by the imposing figures of Caleb and Dorian Craven.

Lila reaches me first, pulling me into a fierce embrace. “It’s good to see you, Hargen. I’ve been worried sick.”

“Thank you for agreeing to step in,” I reply, meaning every word. After all that she suffered under Syndicate control, she still finds ways to help others.

Caleb extends his hand, amber eyes serious. “Lila explained the situation. We have resources that might help.”

I shake it, appreciating the firm grip and direct gaze. The Cravens and I share history—not close friendship, but mutualrespect built on centuries of navigating the supernatural world’s politics.

Dorian nods in greeting, his eyes holding the same intensity as his twin’s but tempered with something less rigid; I suspect that there’s a wicked sense of humor lurking there. Although I doubt there’ll be an opportunity to confirm it.

“The others are waiting,” Caleb says, leading us toward the elevator.

The conference room occupies half of the fifty-second floor, its glass walls offering panoramic views of Seattle’s skyline. Modern tactical displays line one wall while ancient dragon artifacts rest in protective cases along another—a perfect representation of how the Craven clan has adapted to the changing times.

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