CHAPTER 2:ASHES DON'T STAY BURIED.
409 Words
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something else Cameron couldn’t name—something cold, something final.
She woke to the steady beep of a monitor and a dull ache pulsing through her body. Her throat burned as if she had swallowed smoke, and when she tried to move, pain flared sharply down her leg.
She gasped.
A nurse appeared instantly, calm and efficient, pressing her gently back against the pillows. “Easy. You’re safe now.”
Safe.
The word felt strange, hollow.
“What… happened?” Cameron whispered, her voice hoarse.
The nurse hesitated—just long enough for Cameron to notice. “There was a fire,” she said carefully. “You were found unconscious inside the building. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Fire.
The word echoed in her head, but when Cameron tried to grasp the memory, there was nothing. No flames. No screams. No face.
“I don’t remember,” she said, panic creeping into her chest. “I don’t remember anything.”
The doctor confirmed it hours later. Trauma-induced amnesia. Memories lost, maybe temporarily. Maybe forever.
No family came.
No one sat by her bed holding her hand or whispering her name. When she asked if anyone had come looking for her, the answer was always the same: no.
She learned she was an orphan. No records. No next of kin.
Just a name they’d found on a burned ID card: Cameron Boyce.
Three days later, he came.
She felt him before she saw him—the air in the room shifted, heavy and tense. When she turned her head, her breath caught.
He stood near the door, tall and immaculately dressed, dark eyes sharp with something unreadable. He didn’t look relieved. He didn’t look kind.
He looked haunted.
Their eyes met, and something twisted painfully in Cameron’s chest.
“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was deep, controlled, but beneath it was an edge—anger, grief, something dangerous.
“Do I… know you?” she asked.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
His jaw tightened. “No,” he said finally. “You don’t.”
But the way his gaze lingered on her—like he was memorizing every breath she took—told a very different story.
Dylan McCaffrey had waited years for this moment.
And now that he’d found her alive, breathing, untouched by the memories of that night, he didn’t know whether he wanted the truth…
Or revenge.
- Writer
