ECHOES OF A BURNING NIGHT.

Fire roared like a living thing. Cameron Boyce woke to heat clawing at her skin and smoke choking the air from her lungs. The old building groaned as flames tore through wood and memory alike, cracking walls and swallowing everything she thought she knew. Ash fell like black snow, burning her eyes, sticking to her tongue. She coughed, panic rising as she pushed herself off the floor. “Help—” Her voice broke, swallowed by the roar of the fire. She ran. Bare feet slapped against scorched wood as she stumbled down the hallway, the ceiling above her creaking ominously. Sirens wailed somewhere far away, muffled and distant, like they belonged to another world—one she might never reach. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest, every breath a sharp, painful drag. Something exploded behind her. The force knocked her forward, and she cried out as she hit the ground hard. Before she could move, a beam crashed down, narrowly missing her head. Pain exploded through her leg, white and blinding, stealing the air from her lungs. She screamed. Then—hands. Strong arms pulled her up, shielding her from the falling embers. She felt warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. A man’s voice cut through the chaos, rough and desperate. “I’ve got you. Don’t look back.” She tried to turn, to see him, but smoke burned her eyes. All she could make out was the firm grip around her waist and the steady strength that refused to let her collapse. The building screamed one final time. As they burst into the night air, everything went dark. Years later, Cameron would wake in a hospital bed with no memory of that night—no memory of the fire, the pain, or the man who carried her out of the flames. Only scars remained. Scars on her body. Scars in her life. And a lingering sense that the past had not finished with her yet. Because the fire hadn’t been an accident. And the man who saved her had lost everything that night—whether she remembered him or not.