Page 57 of Lost in Fire

“Extraction ready in five minutes,” the team leader announces. “One asset, minimal luggage. Transport window is tight.”

One asset. Hargen has updated them.

Ember looks between me and the operative, confusion creeping across her features. “Mom? Why did she say one asset?”

The room falls silent. Even the clicking of tactical preparations stops. Everyone looking at me—the woman who’s about to destroy her daughter’s world.

I cross to Ember, reaching for her hands. They’re warm, so different from my own cold fingers. “Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’re coming with us.” It’s not a question. It’s a desperate statement, a child’s certainty that her mother would never abandon her.

“I can’t.”

Ember’s face goes white. “What do you mean you can’t?”

How do I explain? How do I make her understand that sometimes love means sacrifice?

“There are people who depend on me,” I begin, but it sounds so goddamned weak. “Families like ours, with children who—”

“I don’t care about other families!” Ember’s voice cracks. “I care aboutourfamily! You can’t just stay here and die for strangers!”

Die. She’s not wrong. If the Ivory League discovers who I really am, death will be a mercy.

“They’re not strangers,” I say quietly. “They’re mothers and fathers trying to protect their children. Children who are hunted for the crime of being born different.”

“Like me.”

“Like you.”

“Then come with us!” Her grip on my hands tightens. “Help them from somewhere safe! You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead!”

Pure sense that makes my justifications crumble.

“It’s not that simple—”

“Itisthat simple!” Tears track down her cheeks now. “Choose us! Choose me! I’ve lived without a father my whole life—I can’t lose my mother too!”

The team leader clears her throat. “Ma’am, we really need to move. Every minute increases risk exposure.”

Exposure. Risk. The cold mathematics of survival that have governed my life for decades. But looking at Ember’s tear-streaked face, the numbers don’t add up anymore.

“Fifteen more minutes,” Hargen says firmly. “She deserves that much.”

The operative’s jaw tightens. “Sir, with respect, the window—”

“Fifteen minutes.” His voice carries authority I’d forgotten he possessed. Witch-born power, even in exile. “We’re not leaving without proper goodbyes.”

Ember turns to him, hope blazing in her expression. “Tell her, Hargen. Tell her she has to come with us.”

But he can’t. We both know that. Whatever brought him back into my life, he understands the impossible position I’m in.

“Your mother has responsibilities,” he says carefully. “People who will die if she disappears.”

“What about me?” Ember’s voice breaks completely. “What about whatIneed?”

The question I’ve wrestled with every day for fifteen years.

“You need to live,” I whisper. “You need to grow up somewhere the Ivory League can’t reach you. You need to become the woman you’re meant to be, not the shadow I’ve forced you to be.”

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