Page 99 of Lost in Fire

“Not here. Not with this much damage. I need proper supplies, a sterile environment. And even then…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

Oh God. Please God…

The battle is winding down around us. Most of the Syndicate guards are down or fleeing. I look up to see Ember approaching, her shape gradually settling back toward human, though traces of scales still gleam along her arms.

“Is he—?” She can’t finish the question either.

“Alive,” I tell her, though the word tastes like a lie. “Barely.”

My daughter—our daughter—kneels beside me, her transformed features beautiful and terrible in equal measure. For the first time, the three of us are in the same place before everyone. A family, finally revealed.

The price was almost everything.

“We need to move,” Caleb’s voice cuts through my paralysis. “Syndicate reinforcements will arrive soon.”

I look down at Hargen, at the ruin I made of the only man I’ve ever loved. His eyes are closed now, his breath rattling in a way that makes my stomach roil. He’s a fighter. Always has been. But even fighters have limits.

Was survival worth this price?

The question follows me as we prepare to evacuate, as willing hands help me carry my broken lover toward safety. I’ve kept my daughter alive, revealed the truth, found allies I never expected.

But as I watch Hargen’s labored breathing, as I feel the weight of Ember’s confused stare, I wonder if some victories cost more than defeat ever could.

Chapter 33

Hargen

The world comes back in fragments.

Pain first. Searing, bone-deep fire that radiates from my chest outward, like molten lava poured into my veins. Then cold cloth against burning skin—a mercy that barely touches the internal fire consuming me. Voices murmur words I can’t quite piece together, their tones urgent but distant.

My body feels like a stranger’s. Every breath scrapes against raw tissue. My limbs seem disconnected, heavy as lead, refusing commands my brain struggles to form. I’m floating somewhere above myself, chained by threads of agony that keep dragging me back down.

Move.

The thought surfaces slowly through the haze.

Wake up. Find them.

But consciousness slips away like smoke.

Time becomes meaningless. Minutes bleed into hours, hours into something longer. I drift between awareness and void, catching glimpses of motion around me. Being lifted. Carried. The blur of ceiling tiles rushing past. The steady beep of machines that sound too loud, too insistent.

Vanya.Her name surfaces through the fog like something precious I want to hang on to.Ember.

The thought of them—of their faces, their voices—pulls me closer to the surface. Somewhere in the darkness, love burns hotter than pain.

***

Light stabs through my eyelids like needles. I force them open, blinking against the assault. Everything blurs together—white walls that seem to pulse with my heartbeat, medical equipment humming quietly, sunlight that feels aggressive after so much darkness.

A figure sits beside me, and as my vision clears, Vanya’s face comes into focus. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, no longer the severe style of the Shadowhand. Dark circles shadow her eyes. She looks exhausted. Fragile. When she sees me looking at her, her carefully controlled expression crumbles with relief.

“You’re back.” Her voice breaks on the words, tears spilling down her cheeks unchecked.

I try to speak but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades. The attempt sends fire shooting through my chest, and white-hot agony forces my eyes shut. My hand—Christ, when did I become so weak?—twitches toward her.

“Don’t try to talk,” she whispers, her fingers covering mine. Her touch is gentle, careful, like I’m made of spun glass. Her other hand brushes my face, whispering along my jaw as if she’safraid to touch me. “You’re going to be okay. The healers say you’re going to be okay.”

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