Zeke's POV
“I was supposed to be dead.”
The words sat on my tongue, bitter, like the ashes I tasted that night.
I exhaled, gripping the balcony railing, the rusted metal biting into my palms. The city sprawled below—cars honking, neon lights flickering, life moving on. But not for me. I was still stuck in that fire, trapped in the moment my entire world turned to smoke.
“You’re doing it again.”
Jax's voice cut through the silence. I didn’t turn.
“Doing what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Staring into nothing like it’s gonna bring back the past.”
I huffed a humourless laugh. “Maybe this time it will.”
Jax sighed, stepping closer. “It’s been five years, Zeke.”
Five years.
I squeezed the railing tighter. My fingers twitched with the phantom heat of that night. The crackling flames, the suffocating smoke. My father’s voice, roaring over the chaos—his final words lost in the inferno. The guards, dead. The halls I once ran through, swallowed by fire.
And me?
I was supposed to burn with them.
But then—her.
I still remember the feel of her hands, the way she yanked me from death’s grip. I remember the urgency in her touch, the scent of her—smoke, sweat, something sweet underneath. Dark hair, pale skin, storm-colored eyes. A face I never forgot.
A face I never found again.
“Zeke.” Jax’s tone was sharper now, yanking me back. “You’re not the only one who lost something that night.”
I turned to face him. “You lost your home. I lost my family.”
His jaw clenched. “We all lost something. You’re just the only one who refuses to move the hell on.”
Move on?
I let out a slow breath. The problem was, I couldn’t. Not when the people who burned my family alive were still out there. Not when I had spent every second of these last ten years hunting them.
And not when I still hadn’t found her.
The girl who saved me.