CHAPTER 1: EMBERS IN THE DARK

The fire alarm shattered the midnight silence of Oakridge Apartments. Maya Chen bolted upright, her heart racing faster than her thoughts. Three years as a firefighter had trained her to wake instantly, but something made her felt different this time—a premonition that tightened her chest.

*Not again. Please, not again.*

She reached for her phone, surprised to find a text message waiting:

**Unknown: It's happening again. Apartment 4B. Come alone.**

Maya froze. Apartment 4B was directly above hers.

The sounding of the alarm continued as she threw on clothes and grabbed her emergency bag. The hallway was already filling with smoke, but not from above—it was coming from the stairwell. All her training told her to evacuate, but the mysterious text pulled her upward.

"Ms. Chen?" A voice called from the shadows. Maya turned to see Mr. Winters, the elderly man from 2A, clutching a metal box to his chest. "They told me you'd be leaving tonight. They said to give you this." Before she could respond, he pressed the box into her hands and disappeared into the swirling smoke.

*Who are 'they'?* Maya wondered, but there was no time. The box felt unnaturally warm.

When she reached 4B, the door stood ajar. Inside, the apartment was clean, no signs of fire, no smoke, just the distant wail of alarms. And sitting at the kitchen table was a man she thought had died five years ago.

"Hello, Maya," said Thomas Reeves, her former mentor. "I'm sorry about the dramatics, but we needed to be sure."

"You're dead," Maya whispered. "I identified your body."

Thomas shook his head. "What you identified was a very convincing replica. Please, sit. We have only minutes before they realize I've contacted you."

"Who? What is going on?" Maya demanded, staying rooted to the spot.

Thomas sighed. "The fire that killed your parents fifteen years ago—it wasn't an accident. And neither was the one that supposedly killed me." He nodded to the box in her hands. "That contains evidence that will explain everything."

As if on cue, the building trembled. A real fire, growing in intensity.

"They've found us faster than I anticipated," Thomas said, his eyes darting to the window. "The organization is called Ember. They've been staging fires for decades, pursuing something they call 'the Phoenix Protocol.' Your parents discovered it, just as I did."

Maya felt the blood drain from her face. "My parents were arson investigators, not conspiracy theorists."

"Open the box, Maya."

With shaking hands, she lifted the lid. Inside lay a worned-out leather journal—her mother's handwriting on every page—and a pendrive.

"That's only a copy," Thomas explained. "The originals are hidden where even I don't know. Your parents left a trail of breadcrumbs only you could follow. The last entry in that journal is the first clue."

The building shook again, more violently this time.

"We need to move," Thomas urged, pulling her toward a window that led to the fire escape. "They're here for the box, and they'll kill us both to get it."

"Who is 'they'?" Maya demanded.

"People with influence in every level of government and emergency services. People who can make others disappear. People who—" Thomas never finished his sentence.

The window exploded inward, showering them with glass. A sleek canister rolled across the floor, releasing a cloud of dense smoke. Maya's training kicked in, it was not regular smoke, some kind of nerve agent. She held her breath.

Thomas shoved her toward the fire escape. "Run! Trust no one in the department. Find Eliza Vega in New Orleans. She was your mother's best friend."

"I've never heard of her," Maya protested, clutching the box.

"Exactly. Go!"

As Maya clambered onto the fire escape, a figure in tactical gear emerged from the smoke. Thomas lunged at them, buying her time. The last she saw of him was his desperate struggle as the apartment was engulfed in flames that seemed to come from nowhere.

Maya descended the fire escape, the mysterious box clutched to her chest. Three floors down, a gloved hand reached out from another window, catching her arm. She nearly screamed until she recognized the face—Damien Cruz, another firefighter from her station.

"Maya! Thank God. Everyone's looking for you!"

Relief flooded through her, until she remembered Thomas's warning: *Trust no one in the department.*

"The chief sent me to find you," Damien continued, his eyes fixed on the box in her arms. "What's that?"

Maya made a split-second decision. "Just some family photos. Couldn't leave them behind."

Something changed in Damien's countenance, subtle, but Maya discovered it. His grip on her arm tightened. "Let me help you with that."

"I've got it," Maya pulled back instinctively.

Damien's friendly demeanor hardened. "I'm afraid I have to insist."

In the distance, sirens wailed—real firetrucks approaching. Damien's eyes flicked towards the sound, momentarily distracted. Maya seized the opportunity, bringing her knee up hard. Damien doubled over, his grip loosening just enough for her to wrench free and continue down the fire escape.

At the bottom, she delayed. The nearby streets would be filling with evacuated residents and emergency responders. If Thomas was right, some of them couldn't be trusted. Her car was in the parking garage, but that would be an obvious escape route.

Maya made another decision. She slipped the pendrive into her pocket, tucked the journal inside her jacket, and ditched the conspicuous box in a dumpster. Then she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and walked, not ran, towards the crowd of spectators gathering across the street.

As she merged with the onlookers, Maya looked back at her burning building. Damien stood at the edge of the emergency vehicles, scanning the crowd. Next to him was Fire Chief Wallace, a man who had been like a father to her after her parents died. The chief was speaking into his radio, his expression was grim.

Had he been lying to her all these years? Was he part of this "Ember" organization?

Maya slipped deeper into the crowd, with her mind racing. She needed to get to New Orleans, needed to find this Eliza Vega. But first, she needed to understand what exactly her parents had discovered—and why it had gotten them killed.

As she walked away from the only home she'd known for years, Maya felt the weight of the journal against her chest. Whatever secrets it contained had already cost too many lives. Now, they might cost her own also.

In her pocket, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. Unknown sender.

**They're watching the trains and airports. The woman in the blue sedan, three cars down. She'll help. Hurry.**

Maya looked up. Three cars ahead, was a dark blue sedan idled at the curb, its driver impossible to see in the darkness. Another trap? Or her only way out?

The wail of sirens grew louder. Damien appeared at the edge of the crowd, eyes scanning, moving closer.

Maya took a deep breath and made her choice.