Page 14 of Forged in Fire

Emergency lighting casts everything in amber shadows, and I can hear the distant hum of climate control systems working overtime.

I slip inside, every nerve singing with anticipation that has nothing to do with tactics and everything to do with the compulsion that’s driven me for what feels like a lifetime.

The building’s layout is simple—central corridor with rooms branching off on both sides. Most doors are closed, but I can sense occupancy behind some of them. Sleeping guards, maybe. Or other prisoners.

The pull draws me deeper into the building, past what might be a common area, past doors marked with numbers instead of names. My enhanced vision picks out details that would be invisible to human eyes—scuff marks on the floor, worn spots on door handles, the kind of everyday wear that comes from regular use.

This isn’t a temporary facility. They’ve been operating here for months, maybe years.

The pull grows stronger with each step, until it’s less like a compass and more like a magnet trying to drag me forward. I turn a corner that leads into a large living area and freeze.

Kieran stands at the other end of the room, fully dressed despite the late hour, examining something on a tablet in his hands. He’s broader than I remember, stronger-looking, his dark auburn hair shorter and neater than the wild style he used to favor. But it’s unmistakably him—the set of his shoulders, theway he tilts his head when he’s concentrating, the familiar line of his profile.

He’s alive. He’s really, truly alive.

Joy explodes through my chest, stealing my breath and making my knees weak. All the false leads, all the dead ends, all the nights I wondered if I was chasing ghosts—none of it matters now. He’s here. He’s real. He’s—

“Kieran!” His name bursts out of me before I can stop it.

He spins toward me, and for a heartbeat, his eyes go wide with shock. Then recognition hits, and his face transforms with an expression I haven’t seen in years.

Pure, unguarded joy.

He’s pleased to see me. Not upset that I left him. Thank God.

“Iris.” He drops the tablet onto a nearby table, and it clatters forgotten as I launch myself at him.

Too easy,a little voice murmurs in the back of my mind. I ignore it.

His arms come around me with the same fierce strength I remember, lifting me off my feet and spinning me in a circle like we’re children again. I bury my face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him—still fall leaves and clean soap, still fundamentallyKieranbeneath whatever changes these years have wrought.

“You found me,” he whispers, and his voice breaks on the words. “I can’t believe you found me.”

“I never stopped looking,” I whisper back, mapping his face with desperate fingertips. He’s real, solid, warm under my hands. Alive. “Never. I knew you were out there somewhere.”

He pulls back to study my face, and I can see questions forming behind his eyes. How I found this place. How I got through their security. Whether I’m alone. But before he can voice any of them, his expression shifts.

“We need to go,” I say, the words tumbling over each other in my rush to get them out. “I have an escape route planned, a car waiting. If we move now—”

“Wait.” His hands frame my face firmly. Almost too firmly. “Iris, wait. There’s something I need to do first.”

What the hell?

What could he possibly need to do now?

“What?” My voice is sharp.

“Please,” he says. “It’ll only take a minute.”

I search his expression, looking for some clue about what could be more important than getting out of here.

“Kieran, we don’t have time. This place is crawling with guards, and they’re going to notice I’m here, eventually.”

“I know.” He glances down the corridor, then back to me. “But there’s something I need to show you. Something important.”

“Show me?” I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. “Show me what?”

“Just trust me, Iris.” His eyes are steady, serious. “You came all this way to find me. Trust me for just a little longer.”