Sparks and Smoke

Chapter 14 – Sparks in the Smoke

Two days after the Berlin raid, the world began to notice.

Amara sat in a café in Amsterdam, her hood up, eyes flicking between her phone screen and the street outside.

On the screen: a leak. A partial data drop. The files from the Berlin facility—edited and redacted for safety—now hitting headlines across the globe.

"Private Defense Conglomerate Implicated in Global Surveillance Scheme."

"Daedalus Ties to U.S. Oversight Division Uncovered."

Amara didn't smile. She didn't feel victory. Not yet.

Because this was just the surface.

---

Back at the safehouse, Elias and Nyra sat shoulder-to-shoulder, poring over schematics and cross-referencing Daedalus outposts.

Nyra leaned in closer than she needed to.

"You're good at this," she said quietly.

Elias didn't look up. "It's not about being good. It's about being right."

Nyra watched him a moment longer. "Still… I see why she trusts you."

He paused.

She added, softer, "And I see why it scares her."

---

Later that night

Amara entered the room as Nyra left it.

She caught the tail end of a look Nyra gave Elias. Not just admiration. Something else.

Amara said nothing… but something in her chest tightened.

"Progress?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

Elias nodded. "We found a Daedalus transport route. Myra's in transit to Rome. She's not hiding anymore."

"Then neither should we."

---

In Rome

The streets were packed with noise, but Amara moved through them like she belonged. The others hung back as she took point.

It had been weeks since she'd seen Myra in person.

And she was ready.

Elias stayed close, though quieter than usual.

She finally asked, "Are you okay?"

He hesitated.

"I'm trying to be."

Amara nodded, then glanced at him. "You and Nyra… seem to work well."

He looked at her sharply. "She's been helpful."

Amara didn't respond.

But the doubt was there now. Just a sliver.

And Nyra could feel it too.

They found her in Rome.

Myra Solarin wasn't hiding. She was watching a violin performance in a crowded plaza, dressed in elegance that didn't belong to a fugitive.

Amara saw her from across the square—and froze.

That same silver hair, pinned perfectly. That calm smile.

The woman who had once braided Amara's hair now wore the look of someone who orchestrated betrayal with grace.

Elias stepped beside her. "Do we make a move?"

Amara shook her head. "No. She's expecting us."

---

They waited until dusk, following Myra through the winding alleys until she entered a gated villa on the outskirts of town.

Inside, the confrontation began.

Amara stood firm across the marble floor, fists clenched.

"You left West to die."

Myra didn't blink. "I warned her. She made her choice."

"She was your sister."

"She was reckless. I had to survive."

Elias watched silently as the conversation spiraled—grief twisting into accusation, and truth bleeding out.

"Then tell me what she meant," Amara said suddenly. "Her last words. 'Tell him. Don't trust anyone.' Who was she talking about?"

Myra hesitated.

"You really don't know?" she said quietly.

Elias stepped forward. "You do."

"She wasn't talking about me," Myra said. "She meant your father, Elias."

---

The room shifted.

Elias's breath hitched. "She knew about him?"

"She knew everything," Myra replied. "Jonas Bell helped build Daedalus's legal arm. He tried to back out when things went too far. But by then, Evelyn had him wrapped around her finger."

Elias turned away, shoulders tight.

Amara watched him, then turned back to Myra. "And what about you? Why come to Rome? Why now?"

"Because Evelyn wants to eliminate all liabilities. Including me."

---

Later, back at the safehouse

Elias sat alone.

Nyra approached, handing him tea. "You okay?"

He nodded but didn't speak.

She sat beside him, closer this time. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

He looked at her—tired, wounded. Grateful.

And for a moment, Nyra let herself hope.

From the hallway, Amara watched them.

Just a second too long.

Then turned away.

It started with static on the comms.

Michael adjusted the radio, frowning. "Someone's pinging our frequency. It's encrypted."

"Can you trace it?" Elias asked.

"I can try. But whoever it is… they know what they're doing."

Amara leaned in. "Could it be Evelyn?"

"Maybe," Nyra said carefully, "but this isn't Daedalus code."

Michael gave her a look. "How would you know?"

Nyra paused. "Because I wrote it."

---

Silence followed.

"You what?" Amara asked sharply.

Nyra sighed. "Before I tried to expose Daedalus, I… built backdoors. Traps. Just in case I ever needed leverage."

Elias stepped closer. "And you didn't think to mention that?"

"I didn't think it would follow me this far."

"But it has," Amara snapped. "And now we're all targets."

---

That night, while Michael and Mason tried to trace the source, Elias found Nyra on the rooftop.

She sat with her knees drawn in, arms around them.

"You lied," he said.

"I didn't," she replied quietly. "I just didn't tell everything."

"There's no difference."

Nyra looked at him. "I didn't think you'd trust me if I told you who I used to be."

"I trusted you anyway."

She looked at him—vulnerable, shaken. "Do you still?"

He hesitated.

And that moment of silence—just a breath too long—was enough.

Amara was watching from below. She felt something, like a pang in her chest.

---

The next morning

The safehouse was breached.

Alarms blared. A drone dropped a canister through the kitchen window. Smoke. Chaos.

Michael yelled for everyone to move.

Elias pulled Amara toward the back exit while Nyra covered them.

They made it out—but just barely.

Outside, as they drove away in a stolen car, Amara looked at Nyra in the rearview mirror.

"You led them to us."

Nyra shook her head. "I swear I didn't."

Elias looked at her.

And for the first time, he wasn't sure what to believe.

The safehouse was gone.

Burned, compromised, untraceable. They took refuge in a half-renovated hostel on the outskirts of Florence—bare walls, no heating, and too many silences.

Amara sat at the edge of her bed, her eyes on the cracked floor tiles.

Elias stood in the doorway, the tension between them almost palpable.

"Say it," he said.

She looked up. "Say what?"

"That you don't trust me anymore."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

---

She rose, stepping closer. "This isn't about trust. It's about who we're trusting."

"Nyra risked her life back there." Elias said

"She also kept things from us. From you. And I know you feel something—"

He cut her off, voice sharp. "I don't."

Amara's breath caught.

Elias softened. "I don't want to."

"That doesn't mean you don't."

---

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Nyra heard every word.

She turned away before she could hear more, but it didn't matter. The truth had landed.

And it hurt.

---

Later that night

Mason passed Amara a folded note. "This came through a private network. Yours."

She opened it carefully, eyes narrowing as she read:

"You're running in circles. Look to West's legacy. You've missed something important."

Elias read over her shoulder. "Legacy?"

"Not a message," she whispered. "A place."

Her mind flashed back to a childhood summer—West's study, always locked. A box on her desk, filled with news clippings and red-stamped files.

There was more to her aunt's warnings than she'd realized.

Amara's heart pounded. "We need to go back."

"To where?"

"To where it all began. To her house."

The house stood still.

Dust clung to every surface, and the air inside was heavy with memories Amara wasn't ready for. She stepped in first, her hand brushing the familiar archway where her aunt once hung wind chimes. They were gone now—like West.

Elias followed in silence.

The others stayed behind in the car. This part—this was for Amara alone.

"Are you sure about this?" Elias asked.

"No," she admitted. "But I need to see."

---

In the study, she moved to the desk instinctively.

The drawers were locked, but she knew where the key was hidden—behind the third book on the right shelf. West always kept it simple but clever.

Inside the drawer, a small black journal. West's handwriting.

Amara flipped through pages filled with dates, names, and sketches of networks—Daedalus cells, aliases, deals.

And tucked inside: a letter.

She unfolded it with trembling fingers.

> Amara, if you're reading this, I'm already dead. You were never supposed to be part of this war. I tried to keep you out. I failed.

Tell him. Don't trust anyone. It was never about the files. It was about the boy. About Elias. His father knew. Evelyn knows. And now… he must know too.

Watch the ones closest to him. Especially her.

Amara read the last line again.

> Especially her.

Her stomach turned.

"She meant Nyra," she whispered.

Elias stepped closer. "What does it say?"

Amara looked at him. "That she was protecting you… and warning me."

---

That night

Back at the motel, Amara sat alone with the journal.

She didn't tell Elias everything. Not yet.

But the weight of it sat between them.

He looked at her across the room. "You're quiet."

"I'm thinking."

"About Nyra?"

She nodded slowly. "And about what it means to trust someone."

Elias looked down. "I still trust you."

She wanted to say it back.

But the words caught in her throat.

Because even now, somewhere deep inside, she wasn't sure if they could both survive what was coming.