Conner had been too young to remember the fire that had permanently scarred him, but the burns had left him terrified of fire. He didn’t even like eating in restaurants with a fireplace, wouldn’t set foot inside a home with one. The sight of a large open flame paralyzed him. He watched the blaze clawing away at the building, consuming more of it each second.

He was alone now, with his brother, in much the same way their lives had started: in the face of an unstoppable fire. Thirty-three years ago, it had been Conner who had lain helplessly as the fire advanced. Desmond hadn’t saved him. There was something fitting about leaving him, completing the cycle. But Conner was ashamed of the thought. Those dark impulses were exactly the thing Desmond had tried to help him control. Tried and failed. He was what he was.

The fire was closer now. Conner felt himself start to shiver, as if he were naked in the Arctic. The force rattling his body, however, was not cold, but fear—an overwhelming, petrifying force.

He heard footsteps behind him, but Conner barely turned his head. Yuri squatted down in front of him. His face was bloody, one eye swollen shut.

He examined Conner, searching for a wound, confusion clouding his face when he found none.

His voice was hoarse, perhaps from the smoke inhalation. “What’s happened?”

“I can’t,” Conner whispered.

Yuri glanced at the flames closing on them, seemed to understand.

“You must, Conner. Every man faces his demons. Yours is here. Will you cower and let it best you? Now is your chance. Show me what you really are.”

Chapter 128

Chapter 128

On the landing of the smoke-filled stairwell, in the glow of the emergency lights, Peyton ripped her clothes off. First the body armor, then the breathable mesh Kevlar undershirt.

She knelt over the garments, clad only in her bra and khaki pants, and drew the knife from a sheath on her belt. She cut two long strips of mesh from the short-sleeved shirt, wrapped one around her mouth, and handed the other to her mother. The older woman followed Peyton’s lead.

Peyton pulled the shirt back on, and wrapped the body armor around her left arm, prepping it to use as an insulated shield against the fire. She made sure her comm unit was still affixed.

She crouched down and turned her back to her mother. “Climb on.”

“Honey.”

“Mom, do it. We don’t have time to argue.”

Lin Shaw exhaled as she stepped closer to her youngest daughter. Her voice seemed to slip deeper into her British accent as she muttered, “Well, there’s no need to be rude.”

With her mother’s arms around her neck, Peyton rose, hit the door handle with her armor-wrapped hand, and rushed into the hall.