Ashes of Our Flame
Episode 13: "The Girl Who Changed Her Name"
The rain fell like secrets—quiet, steady, and impossible to outrun.
Nova Quinn stepped off the midnight train, her black hoodie soaked, her boots tracking mud through the terminal. No one noticed her, and that was exactly how she wanted it.
Gone was the Kara Voss the world had whispered about. The masked girl who burned an empire. Dead to the world.
Now, she was Nova—no past, no attachments, just a mission.
And that mission led her to Blackridge—a city darker than the last, where whispers of human trafficking, weapon smuggling, and elite-backed terrorism filled the alleys like smoke.
Her contact was late.
That wasn't a good sign.
She waited near a flickering streetlamp outside the station, pretending to scroll her phone. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes scanned every corner. Every movement.
Then a hand touched her shoulder.
She spun, already drawing her blade.
"Whoa, whoa!" a voice hissed. "It's me."
It was Talon, Agent Rhea's second-in-command. Young, wiry, with tired eyes and a permanent smirk that couldn't quite hide the burn scars on his neck.
"You're late," Nova snapped, sheathing her blade.
"Traffic," he deadpanned. "And a corpse on the train tracks. Your welcome committee."
"Someone know I'm here already?"
"Hard to tell. Blackridge doesn't like strangers—especially ones who ask too many questions."
He tossed her a flash drive.
"Everything you need is on here. Your cover: Nova Quinn. Tattoo artist. Apartment's two blocks west. No pets, no visitors. We'll contact you in 48 hours."
Nova caught the drive. "And the target?"
"Still gathering intel. All we know is they go by 'The Crow.' Untouchable. Controls every illegal deal in this city—and may have ties to the international black ring. Think Vale family… but worse."
Nova's eyes sharpened. "Good. I missed the thrill."
Talon stared at her for a second longer.
"You know, they talk about you in headquarters like you're a ghost story. The girl who lit the match and vanished."
Nova said nothing.
He leaned closer.
"Just don't get caught this time. Ghosts don't get second deaths."
And then he vanished into the crowd.
---
The apartment was small—clean but hollow. The kind of place that didn't hold memories.
Nova unpacked two shirts, a burner phone, and a photo she swore she wouldn't bring.
It was old.
Torn at the edges.
Adrian's smile barely visible.
She shoved it into the back of a drawer.
This was a new chapter.
Emotions were a weakness.
---
By day, Nova worked in a shady tattoo parlor owned by a woman with one eye and a shotgun behind the desk. She inked skulls, flames, and prison dates on men who didn't flinch. She said little. Observed much.
By night, she slipped through alleys, listening to whispers. Following clues.
The Crow wasn't just a name. It was a myth.
Some said he ran the docks. Others said he operated from an abandoned church, guarded by killers dressed as priests. No one knew his face. No one lived long after asking.
But Nova had time.
And patience.
Until a name surfaced in one of her quiet hunts.
Lysandra Vale.
Adrian's cousin.
Marcus Vale's niece.
Alive. In Blackridge.
Running the books for The Crow.
Nova's heart clenched for the first time in months.
If Lysandra was involved… Adrian had to know.
But contacting him now would compromise everything.
Would destroy the walls she'd built.
She didn't sleep that night.
---
The next day, Talon returned.
"You've been noticed," he said, pacing.
"By The Crow?"
"No. By someone worse."
Nova raised a brow.
"Interpol?"
He shook his head.
"His name is Ronan Vane. Ex-special ops. Hired gun. Hates freelancers like us. And word is, he's taken a special interest in you."
"Why?"
Talon pulled out a surveillance photo.
It was grainy, but the image made Nova's blood freeze.
Her. Walking home.
Hand in her jacket. Eyes scanning.
Ronan behind her. Watching.
Stalking.
"His file is locked even to us," Talon said. "But Rhea's orders are clear: Do not engage. If he corners you, run."
Nova stared at the photo.
"Running's not really my style."
Talon looked at her for a long moment.
"You sure you're ready for this city?"
Nova's jaw clenched.
"I was born for it."
---
That night, she traced the first clue to The Crow's operation.
A nightclub called Vesper—where the elite drowned in sin and secrets. Nova entered wearing a red wig, tight leather, and a stolen VIP pass.
Inside, the music was dark. Heavy. Bodies moved like shadows.
She didn't dance.
She hunted.
At the bar, she saw her.
Lysandra Vale.
Older now. Sharper. Wearing designer black and laughing like nothing had ever touched her.
Nova moved closer, her heart pounding.
Then—another presence.
Someone behind her. Close.
Too close.
A low voice whispered in her ear.
"You don't belong here, firefly."
Nova spun—knife in hand—only to face a man in a charcoal suit and icy blue eyes.
Ronan Vane.
He smirked.
"I've been looking for you."
---
To be continued in Episode 14...
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