On the morning of my wedding, my mother threw my $2,000 silk dress into the fireplace

The fire exploded in a violent wall of orange fury, the porch timbers igniting with an ear-splitting roar. The heat slapped against our faces as the wooden structure caught like dry kindling, black smoke billowing up into the stormy canopy.

"Lucas, the cistern!" I screamed, lunging forward.

Before the guards could react, Detective Ruiz fired two shots from the tree line, striking the tires of Vance’s vehicles to prevent any escape. Lucas tackled the nearest guard, sending the second gasoline can tumbling harmlessly into the wet mud.

Julian grabbed Vance by the lapels of his expensive coat, slamming the executive hard against the fender of his sedan, twisting the cane from his grip. "It's over, Vance!"

"Look at the cabin, you fool!" Vance laughed maniacally, blood trickling from his lip. "It’s already gone! The archive is inside!"

The entire front facade of the cabin was engulfed in a roaring inferno, the flames licking up toward the attic windows.

Lucas turned toward me, his face illuminated by the raging orange light. "Elaine! The secondary terminal is in the basement vault beneath the hearth! If the floor collapses, the biometric sensor melts!"

Without a second thought, I sprinted straight toward the blaze.

"Elaine! NO!" Julian’s desperate scream cut through the roar of the fire as he struggled to pin Vance while lunging to chase after me.

I pulled my wet jacket over my face and vaulted over the flaming steps, kicking the scorched front door open. Inside, the heat was suffocating, thick black smoke swirling like a living beast. The floorboards were already blistering under my boots.

Lucas burst through the smoke behind me, coughing violently, his hand catching my wrist. "This way! The cellar hatch behind the brick fireplace!"

We scrambled through the burning living room, dropping to our knees as the smoke thickened near the ceiling. There, embedded in the stone foundation behind the hearth, was a reinforced steel hatch with a digital biometric interface.

The red digital clock on the panel blinked furiously: **11:59:20 PM.**

Forty seconds left.

"Both medallions!" Lucas shouted over the roar of collapsing rafters. "Slot them together into the circular recess!"

I pulled the fused silver coin from my pocket and jammed it into the circular central slot. The mechanism ground with heavy gears, and two illuminated biometric hand scanners lit up with a glowing green pulse.

*“IDENTIFY HEIRS,”* a digitized feminine voice echoed through the fire—our mother’s voice, preserved in the circuitry.

"Together," Lucas said, extending his left hand onto the scanner.

I placed my right hand onto the adjacent plate.

A sharp laser line scanned across our palms.

*“BIOMETRIC MATCH CONFIRMED. COMMENCING DECRYPTION... 11:59:45 PM.”*

Suddenly, a loud, heavy crack splintered the ceiling above us. A flaming support beam crashed down, pinning Lucas’s leg to the floorboards with a spray of blinding sparks.

"Lucas!" I cried out, grabbing the burning wood with my bare hands, ignoring the searing pain in my flesh.

"Elaine... don't let go of the panel!" Lucas choked out, pushing me back toward the scanner. "It requires continuous contact until completion!"

Through the roaring curtain of smoke and fire at the front entrance, a dark, heavy silhouette slowly stepped into the burning room.

It wasn't Julian. It wasn't Ruiz.

The figure stepped through the flames, completely unbothered by the falling embers. In its hand, a heavy steel revolver reflected the dancing firelight.

As the smoke parted for a fraction of a second, the gaunt, blistered face of Bernice Bradley stared back at me through the flames, her eyes hollow, dead, and twisted into a sickening grin.