(Vera’s POV)

Fire has a way of remembering what it touches.

Even when the flames die, the scent lingers—the heat stays buried under your skin, haunting you like a heartbeat that refuses to stop.

When I opened my eyes, that was all I felt. Heat. Pressure. Pain.

And Nicolas’s voice—somewhere between fury and prayer.

“Vera! Stay with me!”

The world came back in flashes.

Smoke. The crash of waves below. A red sky tearing itself apart. And Nicolas’s hands—rough, ...