Page 90 of Lost in Fire

“Tell me about Ember,” she says suddenly, her voice softening on our daughter’s name. “How is she adapting? Is she angry with me for sending her away?”

Our daughter.

The words still feel surreal, a miracle I’m struggling to fully comprehend. “She’s extraordinary, Vanya. I see you in everything she does—the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking, the slight smile she tries to hide when she’s amused.”

Vanya’s face softens, the years and worry falling away for a moment. “She set the curtains on fire trying to make them ‘prettier’ when she was seven. Turned them all shades of blue and purple until they ignited.”

I laugh despite everything, the sound strange in this grim place. “She nearly did the same thing to the tablecloths in the cafeteria. Something about the color being ‘tragic.’ Viktor had to intervene before she redecorated the entire facility.”

“She’s always had opinions about aesthetics.” Vanya’s smile is genuine now, reaching her eyes and transforming her face. “Strong ones.”

“She reminds me of you. That same core of steel beneath the surface.” I smooth her hair back. “And she picks things up so fast. Three days with a spellbook and she was creating modifications even Viktor hadn’t considered.”

“Smart girl.” Pride colors her voice.

“Takes after her mother.”

We fall into comfortable silence, bodies curved toward each other. Outside our cell, footsteps echo as guards make their rounds. But here, in this stolen moment, we could be anywhere. We could be the people we might have been without the forced separation.

The silence stretches, comfortable but increasingly heavy with unspoken fears.

“If we survive this…” I begin, unable to finish the thought.

“We’ll find somewhere. The three of us.” Her voice carries quiet determination that doesn’t quite mask the uncertainty beneath. “Somewhere they can’t reach.”

The weight of “if” hangs between us. Tomorrow brings execution or rescue, with no guarantees either way. The red light on the camera remains dark—a small mercy that allows us this moment of honesty.

“Viktor is probably working on something right now,” I say, needing to believe it’s true. “He has resources. People who owe him favors.”

“So does Cassia. She’s probably working from inside.” Vanya nestles closer, her body fitting against mine as perfectly as it did hours ago, as perfectly as it did twenty-one years ago. “She’s had contingencies in place for years.”

Not much to pin hopes on. A progressive dragon leader who prefers diplomacy and a Syndicate researcher walking a tightrope between loyalty and treason. But it’s something. It’s more than we had yesterday.

Exhaustion creeps in at the edges, the adrenaline of our reunion finally fading. Vanya’s breathing slows, her body growing heavier against mine. Sleep calling despite the circumstances, despite the execution that awaits unless something changes.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” she whispers, words slurring slightly as consciousness begins to slip. “You. Us.”

I tighten my arms around her, my cheek pressed to the top of her head. Whatever happens tomorrow, I need her to know something… something I should have made sure she heard every day we were together.

“I never stopped loving you, Vanya Arrowvane. Not for a single day.”

Her response comes out on a sigh as sleep claims her: “I love you, too. Whatever happens, remember that.”

I watch her face relax in the harsh overhead light, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the fan of her lashes against skin, the slight furrow between her brows that remains even in sleep. Even here, facing execution, I feel more alive than I have in decades.

Because she’s here. Because our daughter exists. Because sometimes, against all odds, love survives even the worst betrayals—those done to us and those we commit ourselves.

Outside, the facility begins to stir with the first signs of dawn shift change. Distant voices, the clang of metal on metal. Time slipping away.

I close my eyes and let myself hope. Not because hope is rational, but because it’s the only weapon we have left.

Chapter 30

Vanya

The warmth surrounding me feels like a fortress against the world outside. Hargen’s arms encircle me completely, his chest rising and falling against my back in a steady, comforting rhythm. His fingers trace lazy patterns along my forearm, and I can feel the tension in his muscles slowly unwinding. For these stolen moments, we’re not prisoners. We’re not doomed. We’re simply two people who found each other again against impossible odds.

His breath stirs my hair as he murmurs something in his sleep—my name, I think—and my chest tightens with fierce protectiveness.

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