I sat in the darkness of the safe house, a single laptop screen illuminating the grime on the walls. I had hacked into the manor's internal security feed through an encrypted bridge William had built. My chest felt tight—not from the smoke I'd inhaled at the college, but from the sight on the screen.
In the high-definition glow of the manor's front porch camera, I saw Detective Sarah Vance.
She looked disheveled. Her suit jacket was gone, her white shirt was stained with soot from the fire I'd started, and her eyes were wild. She was pacing like a caged predator. Beside her stood Ethan, looking every bit the professional officer, though I knew his heart must be hammering against his ribs as hard as mine was.
The door opened. Emily appeared.
She was wearing a silk robe over her pajamas, her hair messy from sleep—or the lack of it. She looked small against the massive oak doors of the manor, but as she stepped forward, she didn't flinch.
"Audio on, William," I whispered into my headset.
"Coming through now," William's voice replied. He sounded just as tense as I was.
"Detective Vance?" Emily's voice was steady, but I could see her hands trembling as she tightened the belt of her robe. "It's three in the morning. Has something happened?"
"Where is he, Dr. Rose?" Vance didn't waste time with pleasantries. She stepped into Emily's personal space, her face inches from hers. "Where is Oliver Thompson?"
"Oliver is at the office," Emily said without a second of hesitation. I felt a pang of guilt so sharp it made me wince. She was lying for me. The girl who spent her life saving people was now a co-conspirator in a felony. "There was an emergency with the shipping manifests for the Shanghai account. He's been there since midnight."
"Is that so?" Vance sneered. She reached out and grabbed a strand of Emily's hair, moving it away from her face. Ethan stepped forward, his hand resting on his belt.
"Detective, that's enough," Ethan warned, his voice a low vibration. "You're on private property without a warrant. You've had a long night. Go home."
"I just watched him jump out of a window!" Vance screamed, turning on Ethan. "I smelled the smoke on him! I know he's Andrew Parker! I know he's the one who's been making a mockery of this city!"
She turned back to Emily, her eyes narrowing. "You're a doctor, Emily. You took an oath. Are you really going to throw away your career for a man who is essentially a ghost? If he's at the office, call him. Put him on speaker. Let me hear his voice."
My blood ran cold. I was sitting in a garage in Queens, covered in blood and ash. If she called, I couldn't answer. The background noise alone would give me away.
"I won't disturb my cousin while he's saving thousands of jobs just to satisfy your obsession, Detective," Emily said. She took a step forward, forcing Vance to back up. She looked taller, stronger than I'd ever seen her. "If you want to speak to Mr. Thompson, make an appointment with his lawyers at 9:00 AM. Until then, get off our porch."
Vance stared at her for a long, agonizing minute. I could see the gears turning in her head. She was looking for a crack, a flinch, a bead of sweat. But Emily stood her ground.
"You're good," Vance whispered. "Both of you. But remember this, Dr. Rose: when the fire gets too hot, the people closest to it are the first to burn. I'll be watching."
Vance turned and stomped toward her sedan. She peeled out of the driveway, the tires screeching against the gravel.
The moment the car vanished past the gates, Emily's strength collapsed. She leaned against the doorframe, burying her face in her hands. Ethan immediately went to her, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"He's safe, Emily," I heard Ethan say through the speakers. "He got out."
"I hate this," Emily sobbed, her voice breaking. "I hate the lying. I hate the fire. Ethan, he's going to get himself killed, and he's taking us with him."
I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the cold brick of the safe house. Hearing her cry was worse than any wound I'd ever received. I had wanted to protect her, but instead, I had turned her life into a series of midnight interrogations and perjured statements.
"William," I said, my voice cracking. "I'm coming back. Tell Ethan to clear the service entrance."
"Andrew, you're injured," William protested.
"I don't care. I need to see her."
I stood up, ignoring the sting of the glass shards in my arm. I grabbed my bike and tore through the streets of New York, a shadow among shadows.
When I reached the manor, the lights were dim. I entered through the basement, stripped off the soot-stained clothes, and washed the blood from my skin as fast as I could. I threw on a clean sweater and headed straight for the library.
Emily was there, sitting by the fireplace, which was unlit. She looked up as I entered.
The moment our eyes met, I saw the shift. She didn't look at me with the admiration of a cousin or the hidden longing of the night before. She looked at me with fear.
"You're back," she said, her voice hollow.
"Emily, I'm sorry," I began, taking a step toward her.
"Don't," she said, standing up. "Don't apologize for the fire you started. Did you find what you were looking for? Is Andrew Parker officially dead?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Good," she said, walking toward the door. She stopped when she was right next to me. She didn't look at me. "Because I don't know who is standing in front of me anymore. Is it Oliver? Is it Andrew? Or is it just a mask?"
She walked out, leaving me in the silence of the room.
I looked at my hands. They were clean now, but the smell of the fire was still in my lungs. I had erased my past to save my future, but as I stood there alone, I realized I might have erased the only person who made that future worth having.