Chapter 4

As darkness closed in around me, a name surfaced through the fog of my consciousness. Nathan Cross. The memory flashed vividly—screeching tires, shattered glass, and a man trapped in a crumpled car. I had been first on the scene, pulling him free moments before flames engulfed the vehicle. We'd exchanged numbers afterward, a polite gesture neither of us expected to use.

Now, as my throat constricted and my vision dimmed among the scattered ashes of my son, I fumbled for my phone. My fingers, swollen with hives, clumsily navigated to my contacts. There—Nathan Cross. I pressed dial, praying he would…