WILDFIRE

🧭 CHAPTER 2

The air was thick. Too thick. Smoke clung to her skin like a second layer. Every breath tasted of copper and ash. From her earpiece came a mix of voices—some screaming, others barking orders—and then, only the constant crackle of static.

But through all of it, she heard just one name. Bianca. And that made her run.

Every hallway seemed to stretch longer with each step. Every door she opened brought another explosion, another endless corridor, or slammed shut in her face.

Too late. Always too late.

Then—silence.

She knew before she saw it. Silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

One more step, and the dim light from the hallway spilled across the room. Bianca lay curled in on herself, as though trying to shield against something that had already happened—something that had stolen the warmth from her skin and the spark from her eyes.

“You promised to keep her safe.” A whisper brushed her ear. She recognized the voice instantly—Bianca’s brother, Nico.

Lorence dropped to her knees beside Bianca, just as she had before. And then—an explosion at her side. The force ripped her away from her fallen teammate, weightless, ears ringing, vision darkening. Bianca was the last thing she saw.

Then—

She woke up. Gasping. Heart pounding like gunfire. Her eyes swept the room, searching for something—anything—that would anchor her back to reality. Her gaze landed on the table beside her bed. Something was missing. But she forgot it instantly when the cold air brushed against her damp skin.

She turned toward the balcony door—open, though she remembered leaving it shut.

A woman sat casually on her chair, holding a glass of Chaos Theory. Dark hair swayed with the breeze.

“I was thinking of waking you up,” a smooth, velvety voice said softly. “But I read somewhere you shouldn’t wake people from nightmares.”

The woman turned her head. Her smile was slow, deliberate. A curve of lips that carried more than warmth. The red stones in her choker gleamed like droplets of blood at her throat.

“Chrissy?”

“It’s been a while, Rence.” She raised her glass in a toast. “Salute.”

She downed it in one motion and placed the shot glass upside down.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought Eden already told you.”

“She only said you were coming.”

“Oh.” Christine’s expression shifted, as though remembering something. “I forgot to tell her. Never mind—we’ll see her later today. Lunch is on me.”

Lorence stayed silent. She didn’t have to speak. Instead, she studied her friend. Christine wasn’t just different. She had changed. Completely transformed into someone unrecognizable.

The girl who used to linger like a quiet shadow at Alec’s side was gone. In her place stood an ethereal, calculated, untouchable woman.

“Who are you?” The question slipped out, and she felt ridiculous—she knew the literal answer. At least, the obvious one.

“I would say I’m still me. But that would be a lie.” Christine smiled faintly, as though humoring her. “Let’s keep it a mystery for now.”

Lorence was speechless. Once, Christine would have offered a hundred reassurances to keep anyone from worrying. But this Christine—this one seemed to play mind games, and Lorence dreaded where they might lead.

“I’ll be off now. I still have something to finish before lunch.” She tapped Lorence on the shoulder, then turned to a shadowed corner. “Let’s go, El.”

From the darkness stepped a tall man—easily 6’3”. Ash-blond hair, bluish-grey eyes, a faint scar running diagonally across his jaw. He moved out first, and Christine followed—until she stopped, eyes falling on the item on the bedside table. She stepped closer, picking it up with care.

“Still keeping this old thing?”

It was an aged brass compass. Christine flipped the lid open, staring at the words Lorence knew by heart—words whose meaning had shattered the day she learned of the betrayal.

No matter where you are, you can always come home.

“‘Home is north.’” Christine read softly. “Funny how it always points north, but you can’t even tell if that’s where you really want to be.”

Christine walked up to her and gently placed the compass in her hand.

“Remember—you don’t have to go anywhere to find home. You can always build one. I’ll see you at lunch.”

She tapped her shoulder again in parting.

“Does Alec know you’re here?”

Christine paused mid-step. For a moment, Lorence thought she wouldn’t answer. But just as she crossed the doorframe, Christine looked back, wearing that same Mona Lisa smile.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Arrivederci.”

Lorence was left staring at the compass in her hand. She wanted to throw it away. But courage failed her. Instead, she pulled open her bedside drawer and tossed it inside.

Still unsettled, she changed into her running gear. A jog would clear her head.

Running always helped. Any physical exertion did. With music blasting in her ears, she focused on her breathing more than her surroundings—until she spotted Vee not too far ahead, watching a scene unfold among a group of people.

It was him.

She recognized one of the men—and the woman with him. The same man who had been slapped at her bar, caught on a date. She approached Vee, startling him when she suddenly gripped his shoulder.

“What’s happening?”

─── ⌖ ───

“What the hell, Dom?”

JT was annoyed, to put it mildly. A Lexus LC 500 blocked his path—the very car he’d been planning to buy, until his friend Dominic got it first. With their joking rule against twinning, JT had settled for another.

And out of that car stepped Dominic—alongside JT’s ex-girlfriend, Tanya.

All JT had wanted was a peaceful walk in this place that reminded him of the riding club he once called home. Why was that too much to ask?

“Ty, chill.” Dominic’s voice was calm. “Just talk to Tanya. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it was.” Tanya cut in. “I know now. Dominic told me it was Reina you had dinner with. You were trying to find a gift for me—for our anniversary. I know that now. And I forgive you.”

“I know how you are in relationships,” Dominic added. “You’ll regret it if you don’t fix things with Tanya.”

“Seriously, Dom.” JT shook his head, sighing deeply. “Of course you know. You’re my best friend. I followed you after you left Tanya.”

Tanya froze at that. JT could tell where her thoughts went. Her gaze flicked to Dominic, searching for confirmation.

“Ty…” Dominic began, but the words failed him.

“Dom, you’re my friend,” JT said firmly. “And like you said—you know me. So at least give me some dignity. Don’t make me just someone’s doormat.”

“Doormat?” Dominic’s face twisted with disbelief. Then anger. He shoved JT back a step. “If that’s what you think you are, what do you think I am? I was there. I’ve always been there. And she still chooses you.”

JT fell silent.

“Maybe it would be better if it were you instead of me.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“No!” Tanya shoved herself between them, clutching his arms tightly. “I love you. I’ll only ever love you. Whatever you saw, whatever you heard—it was nothing. Tell him, Dominic!”

But Dominic said nothing. He only looked away.

“I meant every word,” he said at last.

Tanya’s hand flew across his face in a sharp slap.

“You’re making this worse. Fix it!” she screamed at him.

JT turned his back on the two of them, leaving Tanya to shout at Dominic about how he had ruined everything—and how he needed to fix it.

Before slipping into his car, JT caught a glimpse of two women watching. One of them was the same woman he had seen behind the bar counter.

She turned her head, met his gaze for a fleeting moment, then looked away—leaving him with a question he couldn’t yet name.