Page 56 of Lost in Fire

“We’re leaving,” I tell her, forcing steadiness into my voice. “We’ve arranged a team to get you someplace safe.”

She lifts herself into a sitting position, pushing a tumble of silvery hair out of her face. “So soon?”

“The sooner the better.” I smile. It’s forced.

“Where’s Mom?” she asks.

“Just sorting out a few things,” I say.

Gathering her strength for the goodbye that’s inevitable.

Ember stands and reaches for a duffel bag at the end of the bed. Her movements are careful, deliberate—someone processing earth-shattering revelations while trying to maintain control. I doubt she woke up yesterday thinking that her whole world would change within twenty-four hours.

“I need a few minutes to get ready,” she says quietly.

“Go ahead.” I leave the room and wait for her in silence.

In the distance, I hear Vanya moving through the house. The soft whisper of magic as she activates final protections. The careful erasure of our presence here.

She’s letting us go. Choosing sacrifice over selfishness. Proving once again why I fell in love with her in the first place.

But that doesn’t make leaving any easier. Doesn’t stop the fury burning in my chest at a world that forces impossible choices on the people trying to do right.

It’s so fucking unfair.

Chapter 20

Vanya

The sound of vehicles pulling up outside cuts through the pre-dawn darkness. Three dark SUVs, moving with military precision down the tree-lined lane that leads to the house.

This is it.

I press my palms against the desk, forcing steadiness. Voices drift from down the hall. Hargen’s low rumble, carefully controlled. Ember’s higher pitch, confusion threading through her words. My daughter being told her world is about to shatter.

Be brave,I tell myself.For her. For them.

But bravery feels impossible when every instinct screams at me to run, to grab them both and flee into whatever safety Viktor Parlance can provide. The Aurora Collective’s protected territories. Freedom from masks and lies and the constant calculation of survival.

Instead, I’m choosing to stay in hell.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway. Multiple sets—the extraction team is inside.

I smooth my hair, pull in a deep breath.

“Mom?” Ember’s voice carries from the living room, bright with nervous energy. “Are you ready?”

The question rattles my fragile composure. Ready. As if anyone could be ready for this.

I walk toward my daughter’s voice, each step deliberate. In the living room, controlled chaos. Three operatives in dark tactical gear, checking weapons and communication devices. A woman with steel-gray hair directing operations—team leader. And in the center of it all, Ember.

My daughter, clutching a hastily packed duffel bag, eyes flitting about anxiously. She looks so young.

She believes we’re all leaving together.

Oh God. How do I do this?

Hargen catches my eye across the room. His expression is controlled, but I see the pain underneath. The desperate hope that I’ve changed my mind.

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