Page 26 of Lost in Fire

Two paces.

But Vex’s purification protocols are tightening around us like a hangman’s noose. Our daughter has been hidden all her life, but Vex is thorough. Methodical. He’ll find her.

Unless I stop him.

Unlesswestop him.

One pace.

My palm hovers over the biometric scanner, the final threshold between decades of deception and whatever comes next. Once I touch that surface, there’s no retreat into comfortable lies. No more pretending that Vanya Arrowvane burned to ash years ago. No more hiding behind my terrible reputation.

Just truth. Messy, dangerous, potentially catastrophic truth.

The scanner reads my DNA with a soft buzz. Magnetic locks disengage with mechanical finality. The door slides open, revealing the stark chamber beyond.

And there he is.

My heart stops. Starts again. Stops.

Twenty-one years of separation collapse into nothing. All of the grief and guilt and desperate hope crystallize into this moment, this impossible reality where the man I loved and lost sits three feet away, breathing and beautiful and more dangerous than ever.

And here I stand, about to face him. As the Shadowhand.

Chapter 10

Hargen

The steel door swings open, and I look up expecting another faceless interrogator in expensive clothes with a dead stare.

Instead, the world stops.

Ice-blue eyes fix on me from behind an ornately embossed silver mask. The metal covers most of her face, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. Eyes that have invaded my dreams.

It’s her.

Vanya.

Oh, my fucking God.

She’s the Shadowhand.

The mask hides her features, but I can see enough—the curve of her cheekbones, the way she tilts her head slightly in thought. Her silver-blonde hair is pulled back severely. She’s dressed in a tailored black jacket and trousers, making her look leaner than I remember. Not a hint of softness.

But it’s her. Despite the mask, despite the years, despite everything that should make recognition impossible.

For a moment, I’m mute. Can’t do anything but stare while every truth I thought I knew crumbles.

It’s true. She’s alive.

The woman I mourned. The woman whose execution I watched through tears and rage. The woman who’s haunted every quiet moment for two decades. She’s standing three feet away, wearing the face of the Syndicate’s most feared interrogator.

My hands shake against the surface of the desk, curling them into fists as I struggle not to surge toward her. Every instinct screams to touch her, to confirm she’s real, to close the impossible distance between us. But the surveillance cameras mounted in every corner keep me frozen in place.

She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s—

The Shadowhand.

The pieces click together with nauseating clarity. The mysterious Ivory League member who advocates for extreme purification while somehow sabotaging the worst operations. The figure Viktor sent me to identify and turn. The most dangerous double agent in magical society.

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