BURN WITH ME

Chapter Seven — The Day It Burns

I was in the middle of a briefing when everything went wrong.

Not the kind of wrong you can fix.

The kind that changes the direction of everything.

My phone buzzed in my pocket once, twice, three times.

The signal.

The one we hadn’t used yet.

Move now. No questions.

I stood up.

Hargrove glanced at me from across the table. “Voss?”

“Bathroom,” I said, already moving. Calm. Casual. Like my world wasn’t collapsing in real time.

I stepped out, walked fast down the corridor, cut through a side door into a maintenance hall—

And then I ran.

The message hit me all at once.

They found the first package. Mara is burned. Get out now.

Then another.

Roof of the Callahan Building. Ten minutes. Please.

Please.

I slowed for half a second.

He had never said that word before.

And somehow, that was the thing that made my chest tighten—not the danger, not the urgency.

That.

I took the stairs two at a time.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t think.

He was already there when I pushed through the rooftop door.

Wind hit me first. Cold, sharp. The sky hung low and grey above the city, like everything was waiting.

He stood near the edge, back to me, phone in hand.

Still.

Too still.

He turned when he heard me.

And for just a second—less than a second—something broke through.

Relief.

Raw. Immediate. Unfiltered.

Then it was gone.

Filed away.

Hidden again.

But I saw it.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“Mara got out,” he said quickly. “She’s safe. But the first package is compromised. They know something’s moving. Not what—but they’re tightening everything. Communications, access—” his jaw tightened “—including yours.”

My badge.

My way in.

My cover.

“How long?” I asked.

“Hours. Maybe less.” He exhaled sharply. “I needed one more day, Lena. If I had one more day—”

“Stop.” I cut him off. “Don’t waste time. Think.”

He went quiet.

Then I watched it happen—the shift. The way his mind snapped back into focus.

“The second package,” he said. “I can still get it. But I need physical access. The digital routes are gone.”

“Where?”

“Sub-level three.”

I stared at him.

“You want to go back inside.”

“We go back inside,” he corrected. “Together.”

Of course.

“You get me through security,” he continued. “Your badge still works—for now. I access the archive directly, pull the data, and we’re out. Twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes.

Inside a building already turning against me.

“With you?” I said.

“Yes.”

I let out a breath. “This is a terrible plan.”

“I know.”

“What’s the second option?”

“We run. Now. With what we have.” A pause. “It might be enough.”

Might.

I thought about the names. The files. The people.

My mother.

Seren.

All of them reduced to might.

“No,” I said.

His gaze sharpened.

“Twenty minutes.”

He nodded once.

“Stay close,” I said. “Do exactly what I say. If I tell you to run—”

“I run.”

“And if something goes wrong—”

“It won’t.”

“Caelum.”

“It won’t,” he said again, quieter this time. Not confidence. Not really.

Something else.

I looked at him—really looked at him.

At the man who had changed everything.

And I made a decision that had nothing to do with the mission.

“Let’s go.”

Sub-level three was cold.

Metal. Air that didn’t move. Silence that felt too tight.

We moved fast, quiet, instinctively in sync.

Like before.

Only this time, there was no hesitation between us.

He stayed close—just behind my shoulder.

Close enough that I could feel him there without looking.

At checkpoint two, I badged us through seconds before the guard turned.

At checkpoint three, I used an override I’d memorized years ago.

The archive door loomed at the end of the corridor.

He stepped forward, hand brushing the panel.

Blue light flickered under his fingers.

Controlled.

Precise.

The door unlocked.

We stepped inside.

“Twelve minutes,” I said.

He moved to the terminal.

I stayed at the door.

Watching.

Waiting.

Listening for the moment everything fell apart.

“Eight minutes.”

“I know.”

“Seven—”

“Lena.”

“What?”

“I work faster when you’re not counting.”

I exhaled.

“Fine.”

Silence stretched.

The building above us carried on like nothing was happening.

Like it wasn’t already burning from the inside out.

“Got it,” he said.

I turned.

He was already pulling the drive, slipping it away.

Six minutes.

“Move.”

We moved fast.

Back through the corridor.

Checkpoint three—barely cleared.

Checkpoint two—

Twenty feet from the stairwell—

My badge failed.

Red light.

And then—

Alarms.

Loud. Sharp. Everywhere.

They knew.

“Run,” I said.

We ran.

The stairwell exploded with noise.

Doors slamming open above.

Boots hitting metal.

The sound of a system locking down.

I had run toward that sound before.

Now I was running from it.

We hit the ground floor exit hard, burst into the alley—

Cold air slammed into my lungs.

We didn’t stop.

Left. Right. Through a narrow gap between buildings.

Out onto a street.

Keep moving.

Half a block.

One.

Two.

A recessed doorway.

Deep enough.

We stopped.

For a second, all I could hear was my own breathing.

Then his.

Close.

Steady.

Alive.

The alarms faded behind us, swallowed by the noise of the city.

I became aware of everything at once.

His shoulder against mine.

The heat of him.

The fact that we made it.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

I glanced down.

My arm—scraped. Shallow.

Didn’t even remember when it happened.

“It’s nothing.”

“Lena—”

“It’s nothing.” I looked at him. “We got both packages. That’s what matters.”

He held my gaze.

Then nodded. “It’s enough.”

“Then I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

For a moment, he just stood there.

Then slowly—carefully—he reached for my arm.

His hands were warm.

Steady.

He turned my wrist slightly, inspecting the cut like it actually mattered.

Like I mattered.

“You scared me,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“I know.” His eyes lifted to mine. “You still scared me.”

The space between us felt smaller.

Closer.

Too aware.

“Caelum—” I started.

“I know,” he said softly.

Like he understood what I couldn’t say.

Maybe he did.

That might’ve been the most dangerous part.

I didn’t pull away.

He didn’t let go.

The city moved around us, unaware.

The evidence that could destroy everything sat in his pocket.

And whatever this was—

This thing between us—

Was done waiting to be ignored.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

He looked at me.

And for the first time—

He didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know.”

And somehow—

That felt like the most honest thing he’d ever given me.